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lord-explosion-baku · 3 years ago

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Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

#bnha mermay #mermaid au #siren!shinsou #mermaid!hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #reader insert #trident tale

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red-writes · 3 years ago

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Career oriented

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first.

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you.

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg.

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore.

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club”

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?”

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm.

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right?

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am”

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort.

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy.

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try.

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified.

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest.

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous.

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally.

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be”

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date.

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin.

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead.

“Okay, I have an idea”

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again.

“What do you say?”

“Alright!”

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work.

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake.

“No, just realized somethin’”

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?”

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face.

“You look pretty when you're having fun”

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other.

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed.

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged.

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax.

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was.

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road.

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face.

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming.

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together.

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer.

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were. He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside.

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you.

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move.

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you.

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head.

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips.

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time.

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy.

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest.

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it.

“That’s my hard working girl”

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment.

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want”

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Goodnight love”

“Night Kats..”

335 notes · View notes

thegeneralguy · 4 years ago

Text

A good role model

Hello! Thanks to @amalianetwork for helping me out with this story. Its a bit shorter than what I usually post on here, but it struck some heart strings inside of me. I hope you enjoy it.

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“Come on Matt! We’re going to be late for the festival!”

The excited shrieks came from a young child not older than ten years of age. His wavy blonde hair was encased in a blue baseball cap, and he was wearing an old button shirt. He was grabbing the hand from an older young man, pulling him forward with haste. Both boys looked very alike, age being the most differentiating factor between them.

“Ease up Cole, your number starts at seven. There’s plenty of time.”

“Yes, but I want to rehearse one time before the show. Mrs. Davis said all kids in our class had to meet an hour before to practice our song”

Matt advanced reluctantly, feeling uneasy in his attempt at formal attire. He adjusted his badly-knotted tie and tried his best in accommodating his oversized shirt. But he knew it was a necessary sacrifice, because this was supposed to be Cole’s “big night”. He would do anything for his little brother, even if it meant dressing as a buffon. The boys were rushing through the parking lot of the local theatre, amongst a sea of other families heading to the entrance. They entered the building and immediately headed backstage to deliver Cole to his class. Matt made sure his small bowtie was in place, but when he tried to take the cap from him, Cole swatted his hand away.

“Cole, you know you’ll get in trouble if you throw a fit over that cap again. All the kids in your class have to be dressed the same.”

Cole pouted and grabbed his head with both hands, securing it on his head.

“Please let me keep it. I’m scared to perform without it.”

“Okay you win. Just this one time though. You’re a big boy now, there are some rules you have to follow.”

“You’re the best Matt!”, said the little boy hugging his brother.

“Just remember to have lots of fun! I’ll be watching you from the front rows. And remember, once your act is over we gotta go.”

“That's not fair! Mrs. Davis is gonna take us all for pizza once the show is over.”

“I’m sorry C. You know Aunt Gertrude doesn’t like it when we go out late.”

“I don’t like Aunt Gertrude. She’s mean.”

Matt kept a straight face not to give a bad example, but he knew what his brother was talking about. Their aunt was a real menace sometimes. Especially when her rules were disobeyed.

“Don’t be like that buddy. Aunt Gertrude has been nice to us, so we have to obey the rules of her house. Besides, I’ll take you for pizza on the weekend. What do you say?”

“Yay! Thanks Matt. I’ll hurry up after the show, I promise. See you later!”

Cole then turned around and sprinted towards his group. Matt looked at his brother tenderly, remembering all they have gone through together. The blue cap was originally his, a gift from their father. They never had a lot to begin with, and after his parents were gone, the cap was one of the only mementos he had from them. He remembered hugging it terrified, as the police explained to him with gruesome detail for a twelve year old how his parents had been killed in a mugging. Cole had been only five at the time. Their aunt was their only living relative, so they were placed in her house. Cole couldn’t stop crying during the first night, so Matt gave him the blue cap and told him as long as he had it, his father would be there with him. Five years had passed, and the little boy still took the cap everywhere. Convincing Cole to take it off to wash it was a real hassle sometimes, but Matt managed. He was a good big brother after all.

Matt went to his seat and watched the recital in silence. Group after group they performed, excited families bursting in applause every time their kid went onstage. The young man was growing increasingly nervous, watching the minutes turn into an hour. The show was taking too long, which meant arriving at his aunt’s too late and having to deal with her wrath. He was lost in thought when suddenly Cole’s group was onstage. He cheered and applauded his little brother, who along with his classmates presented a potpourri of popular songs. He immediately recognized him due to the blue garment sticking out of the sea of white shirts. Once the number was done, he stood up from his seat and went to meet his brother backstage to take him to their aunt’s.

Their Aunt Gertrude was a solitary woman, preferring to live alone and far away from any other neighbor. The little house stood right at the edge of the woods, standing lonely amongst the dark trees. The car was parked on the driveway, so Matt knew immediately their aunt was home. He prepared mentally for the fit she was about to throw when she saw them coming in through the door. Once they made it inside, he sent Cole straight to his room and went into the living room, where his aunt was sitting on her usual chair watching TV.

“So, look who finally decided to show up. This isn’t a hotel you know.”, said the fat woman looking hatefully at the scrawny teenager.

“I know Aunt Gertrude. Cole had a school event he couldn’t miss, so we stayed out until late.”

The woman sneered at Matt, and then continued watching her show.

“You know misbehavior has consequences right? You were out past dinner time, so there won't be any dinner for you.”

Matt felt the rage coming up from his stomach. He disliked the woman a lot, but he knew she was the only reason the brothers were allowed to stay together. She knew that too, so she made sure to exploit that fact every time she could. He didn’t mind missing dinner, he was used to it. But Cole had to eat, or his stomach would hurt again and he wouldn't be able to sleep.

“I can miss out on dinner today and tomorrow if you want, but let Cole eat something. It was a tough day for him.”

“You should’ve thought that before breaking the rules. Rules are necessary, or else you will end up like your good for nothing dad. He got my sister killed, you know. Only a bad person does that.”

Matt tightened his fists so hard his nails dug into his skin causing some bleeding. His father was his aunt’s favorite subject, always belittling and berating him. But he was a good man, very hardworking. A real example for Matt. His only mistake was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Don’t you dare talk about him…”, he grumbled quietly. His aunt let out a cruel cackle, and glared at him angrily.

“Or what? You are just like him, you know. A useless dead weight under my roof. But not for long. You got one more night. After that, you’re turning into an adult, which means you gotta earn yourself a life.”

Matt had been so busy with his brother that he had completely forgotten about his birthday the day after. His aunt had been telling him she was going to kick him out that same day, but he always thought she said that only to intimidate him. Thinking about leaving Cole with that monster alone sent a chill down his spine.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking you little asshole? As soon as you’re eighteen, you’re legally not my problem anymore. Besides, it’s good you learn how the world works. Not that your father ever taught you that. In fact, I think Cole was lucky to grow up without his bad example!”, said the woman laughing loudly. “Now, better get your shit ready. I’m calling farmer Joe tomorrow to see if he has some job for you. If you’re lucky he might even let you stay in the barn with the rest of his boys. Now, get out of my sight. My next show’s about to start.”

Matt just turned around and left completely speechless, hearing the loud music from the TV and his aunt laughing as he went upstairs to his room. Cole was already showered and wearing his pajamas, the blue cap still on his head. Matt sat down next to him on his bed, trying to keep his composure and not burst into tears.

“Listen Cole, I have to tell you something,'' he said, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words. “You know tomorrow is my birthday, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t forget. I even wrote it in my calendar to get you some chocolate.”, he said excitedly before realizing he just ruined the surprise. “Oh no, I just ruined your present.”

“No buddy, it's okay. You know I love chocolate.”, said Matt grabbing the little boy’s head. “But listen, tomorrow I’ll be eighteen. And that's a very special number. So special, that people invite you to participate in certain activities!”

“What do you mean?”, asked Cole with a puzzled look on his face.

“Well, farmer Joe has invited me to his special club on his land, so I’m very excited I can go now. There’s only one small problem, I have to go sleep there too so I can do everything the guys there do.”

Cole just stared at his brother, tears welling up behind his eyes.

“You’re gonna leave?”

“Don’t be sad buddy. This is a great opportunity for me! Besides, I’ll come to visit you every day, I promise.”

Cole threw himself at Matt, his little arms embracing him as strong as they could. Tears ran down his rosy cheeks, and he could barely articulate the words due to the knot in his throat.

“But I don’t want you to go! I don’t want to be alone in this house. I’m scared.”

“I know buddy, I know.”, said Matt hugging his little brother. “But listen, remember what I told you about that cap? As long as you have it, dad’s going to be here with you. And so will I.”

Both brothers embraced for hours, refusing to let each other go. Cole cried until he fell asleep, so Matt tucked him into bed and waited until it was late enough to go down and steal some food for the boy. His aunt went to bed just before midnight, so he had to wait until she was gone to go to the pantry. He was almost falling asleep when he heard the TV going off, and the heavy steps of his aunt going into her room. He hesitantly stepped out of their bedroom, and swiftly went down to get some food for Cole. His body was very light, so that helped him move silently on the wooden floor. He brought up some snacks, leaving them on Cole’s night table, completely missing the clock just striking midnight.

He went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Taking off the horrible oversized shirt he stared at himself in the mirror. He was practically just skin and bones, lacking the proper nutrition and exercise for a good development during puberty. His dirty blonde hair was pulled back on a bun, looking just a shade darker than his brother’s. His aunt was right, he was pathetic, scrawny and weak. Barely a fitting example for Cole. But he didn’t want his brother to grow up without him. It was already bad enough he had to grow up without a dad, only to have his big brother be taken away too. He wished that both of them could stay together. That he was enough for his little brother, so he could provide him with the life he deserved.

The lights in the bathroom flickered, and the window was suddenly opened by a strong gust of wind, startling Matt. He started to get lightheaded, grabbing the small sink to prevent himself from falling. “It’s probably hunger”, he said to himself. But the more seconds passed, the worse he felt. He started sweating cold, drops falling down his face and his pale body. He watched a shadow creep over his skin, thinking he was starting to faint from starvation. When he raised his hand to touch the darkness, rough bristles greeted his fingertips. He was growing hair, all over his body. He watched it get longer and thicker, a thick mat covering his chest, and crawling down his flat stomach painting a thick treasure trail on his skin. Tufts of hair poked out from under his arms, his sparse armpit hair getting far denser. The shadow then climbed up his neck, fully flourishing on his face to form a short beard. Matt felt its roughness with the palm of his hand, fully enthralled by the sensation.

He then felt his bones elongate, shooting him a few inches towards the roof and lengthening his limbs. He looked like that creature slender-something kids were so obsessed about. Once his skeleton finished its growth, the muscles followed suit. He felt incredible heat emanating from his body, as each muscle twitched and grew to enormous size. Size packed on his chest, fully forming two massive pillow-like pecs sticking out from his torso. His cleavage was so deep he could probably put his entire thumb in it, and probably crush it too if he squeezed hard. Muscle packed on his shoulders as well, growing like two bowling balls. It made him look monstrously wide, fully condemning him to a life of having to go through doors sideways. His arms surged with power and grew as well, fully surpassing the width his legs had before. Thick hairy pythons hung to each side of him, resting at an angle due to the thickness of his triceps. His back then rounded out like a shield and expanded into a hairy muscular landscape. The lats were so big they looked like the could fall off of him at any moment.

He heard his stomach grumble, as it blew forward sticking out just a few inches behind his chest. Thick abs could be seen on the curve of his belly. His ass blew his dress pants into oblivion, each cheek swelling like a Christmas turkey. The legs followed suit, thickening into titanic proportions, powerful enough to sustain such a heavy top. Even his feet grew a few sizes, fully completing his transformation. Matt just stared at his new body speechless, feeling control over each fiber. He flexed his big arms, and bounced his heavy chest. A deep chuckle left his throat, and he realized his voice grew much deeper as well. He was so entertained by his new figure, he missed the clumps of hair falling from his head. His hair thinned out a little bit, and shortened itself into a clean cut, contrasting with its previous unkempt image.

Matt looked like a new man. His kid used to tell him he looked the size of a barn, just like that Disney song he liked from the film with the talking furniture. He was very bad with names, but he knew what movies his son liked. Matt scratched his head, confused by the thought of having a child. He was only eighteen, barely old enough to have a kid. But a body like this couldn’t belong to a young kid. A body like this took years of dedication, of pain and sweat, of discipline. He looked like the perfect dad, strong enough to protect, and big enough to climb over like a jungle gym. Matt smiled looking at himself in the mirror. His features changed and rearranged themselves into those of a masculine man. His nose was bigger and his brow stuck further out. Even a cleft formed on his now square jaw. He looked tough, but also lovable.

The maelstrom of memories fully blew Matt’s mind away, turning him into a perfect dad. He felt his dick snake up under his belly, and his balls drop lower and heavier like a mature plume, virile enough to spread his seed wherever he wanted. The rush of testosterone triggered more changes in him. His muscles got denser, more lived in. Crow feet printed themselves next to his eyes, and his skin got rougher fully aging two full decades.

“I’m one sexy motherfucker.”, grunted Matt, flexing before the mirror. He dedicated years of hard work and discipline to his body, and it showed. He loved the tight feeling of a shirt about to burst due to his titanic arms, or how the buttons popped open on their own due to his heavy chest. But even his glorious physique wasn’t his most valuable treasure. That was his son.

Reality rearranged itself around Matt, as memories of Cole growing up with him changed into those of a father raising his son. He remembered how tiny he looked when he held him in his arms, or how scared he looked when Matt dropped him in kindergarten for the first time. He remembered the recitals, the little league games, the birthday parties, the nights with Cole on his bed due to a nightmare, the camping trips. Everything he did, and had, was for his son. He was happy to grow up next to him, so he could teach him about the same hard work and discipline he put into his own life. Hopefully, Cole would grow up to be a good man like his father. And with those genes, hopefully big and strong too.

When Matt came back to his senses, he was standing in a nicely furnished bathroom. He adjusted the glasses on his face, and checked himself one last time before going out. The short sleeved shirt looked perfectly fitted to his big body, his arms almost ripping the tight sleeves apart. He came out of the bathroom to find the luxurious interior of a suburban home. He wanted his kid to have all his necessities covered. The memory of the tiny house in the woods and the monster within fully erased from existence.

“Come on Cole, you don’t wanna miss out on a good pizza, do you?”, he shouted, his deep bass shaking the foundations of the house.

“I’m coming dad!”

Young Cole came rushing down the stairs. His blonde hair shined brighter, and his blue eyes sparkled with excitement. He took his coat and headed towards the front door, where his dad was waiting for him. Matt noticed the small blue cap on the little table next to the door.

“Aren’t you gonna wear your cap?”, he said, handing it to his son. Cole just smiled at his dad, and turned the cap away.

“I’m not scared anymore dad. I don’t need it.”

Matt just smiled and opened the door for Cole. The happy family then headed out into the sunshine to live the rest of their lives together. Nothing would be able to separate them.

#musclegrowth #daddy #hairy hunk #reality change

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Text

Breathing In

Sequel to: “In Too Deep”

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Cheating (Past), Mentions of toxic relationships

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: It’s not just about leaving a person behind, it’s about leaving behind what feels to be a separate world, one you want to detach from yet you still want to hold onto for the twisted comfort it gives you, the familiarity of it all. But then again, you’ve been drowning in the deep too long to still want to hold on, and all you want is to swim up to the surface and breathe in.

Requested by the lovely readers who showed the first fic “In Too Deep” so much love and support. I’m so glad to be writing a sequel for this piece because I enjoyed writing it so much! I love the storyline and I can’t express how grateful I am the Anon who sent in the request for it in the first place. Love you all, Vy ❤

A romantic relationship should never be a responsibility. A person should never be another person’s responsibility. One cannot be a pillar and stand strong while the other is falling apart, leaning on them and depending on them for everything in their life. That’s not love, it’s hell. It’s a job you get paid for with nothing but exhaustion, pain and emptiness. Your mind’s constantly flooded by images of all those times you could’ve experienced had those ‘what if’s happened.

What if she didn’t turn up to class late that day? What if she didn’t need anyone to distract the professor for her to get in the classroom undetected? What if when Kaylor asked for sex as a repayment she refused and slapped him across the face?

Well, things would be different. She wouldn’t be living like this, that’s for sure. She’d be working her ass off, just like she’s wanted to all her life. Coming from a family of drunks and bums, she’s always wanted to prove her worth, not to others but to herself. To prove that ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’ doesn’t always apply. She’s always been terrified of that saying, never wanting to become like her parents and older siblings. Never wanting to become like Kaylor who started off as her acquaintance, proceeded to become a guy she regularly hooked up with and then became her boyfriend. And then, the worst decision among all she’s ever made, she allowed him to slip that ring onto her finger and a few months later exchange vows with her in front of an altar. Had her phone not died the night prior to meeting him, none of this would’ve happened. She’d have several normal jobs instead of one barely-paying one and one she didn’t know she ever even signed up for - taking care of Kaylor.

She’s been drowning in the deep for so long, she can barely remember. Long enough to forget how breathing in feels.

However, she’s not the only one.

He has his own fulfilled ‘what if’s as well: what if he hadn’t left his apartment that night? What if he had stopped after the second beer like he originally intended to? What if he didn’t choose exactly that night to socialize with the stranger who sat down on the bar stool next to him. What if he simply paid for his drinks and left?

But he didn’t, he didn’t do any of that. Didn’t manage to preserve himself, didn’t manage to keep it in his pants or hide the lust in his eyes. Still, the hook-up on its own wouldn’t have been so horrible had it not led to what it did afterwards. Had it not led to a relationship with one very fragile girl. A girl much like him, too much like him. Constantly insecure, fearful, paranoid, dependent, distrusting. A girl always in need of a firm grip on her hand and an external voice telling her it would all be alright because her internal voice is never optimistic. Her own mind doesn’t like her, she can barely stand it, and he got caught in that crossfire.

He can’t really picture what he would be doing with his life if it wasn’t for Ida, he’s that sucked in. He’s that deep into this mess. It’s not water he’s drowning in, it’s quicksand, the type that’s taken form with his regret and self-hatred as a base. Breathing in would result in sand-filled lungs but at this point his only wish is to breathe in, no matter the consequences. After all, if it doesn’t save him it’ll kill him and he can live with that.

Still, it hasn’t all been dark for our broken lovers. There are several ‘what if’s Corpse and Y/N don’t ever wanna imagine or know the outcome of. Such as, for example: What if the two of them never met? What if they didn’t strike up the relationship question? What if they didn’t share that kiss in that parking lot that night. That single contact between their lips was the only thing they didn’t regret that night. What they regret the most, however, is walking away from one another, spiraling their situation out of control, turning it into a twisted, sticky spiderweb, laced with the sin of cheating on a significant other.

If it were as simple as people make it out to be - break up with the other person instead of cheating - they would’ve done it so long ago. They would’ve been far from here. Very far from this fucking place and these fucking problems had they been the ones holding the leash of their fate rather than let the current of events manipulate them.

Maybe they’re a little late with the grasp of this realization, but that’s not what matters. What’s important is the here and now, the events that are about to occur or not occur. The actions that will or won’t be taken. Y/N and Corpse have been a will they/won’t they pair from the very start, always leaning more towards won’t because of how impossible it all felt. How hopeless the spiraling hell they were in made them feel.

But now the tables have turned.

Corpse was the first to leave his hell-cell. He did so by cutting things off with Ida a week ago. He did so rather gently and caringly, promising he’s always a phone call away whenever she needs him. It took a lot of preparation and guts he didn’t have but had to develop in order to execute such a delicate operation and make it a successful one. The response he got from her was rather surprising.

“I was hoping you’d call it off.“ She said with a small smile, shocking him to the point of letting out a small gasp, “I mean, you know me, I could’ve never done it. But I hated what I was doing to you and I hated myself even more for not being able to stop and...“ she trailed off, her lips pressing in a thin line, eyes glistening with tears, “...I’m so glad you did it. You’re saving both of us, trust me.“

As he was packing his stuff, he overheard Ida’s phone call with her parents, telling them she wanted to move back in with them for a little while but refused to answer any further questions, at least not over the phone. That was the biggest relief, a whole-ass boulder lifted off him, allowing him to finally breathe in. But he wasn’t breathing in at full lung capacity, he still isn’t even no as he stands outside a gas station, leaning on the side of his car which is loaded with all his belongings which he doesn’t have many of, thankfully. He’s waiting for her - the half of this relationship that’s still swaying between will it/won’t it. Corpse is all will, all in, ready for a new, fresh start, ready to be able to breathe the air of the real world, feel the breeze of a real life finally. Whereas Y/N is not as certain, not as prepared and a lot more emotionally attached. It’s understandable, she’s leaving behind a husband, not just a boyfriend.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Corpse. I won’t be able to live if something happens to him. I’ll forever feel guilty, I’ll hate myself forever. You gotta understand.“ She told him the same night him and Ida had their break-up. He called her, telling her he had some big news to share. His excitement was quickly shot down when she gave him this response, eyes glossy with sorrowful tears.

He understood.

She asked for time. He gave it to her.

He gave her an ultimatum. She gave dubious agreement.

The ultimatum? : meet him at this gas station, with her belongings, right at sunset, prepared for the adventure filled with struggles, the whole experience of starting new.

And so he waits, watching as the sun goes lower and lower, leaving the scene to be taken over by the moon and now dark and starry sky - just like his hopefulness is stepping aside for his depression and dread to take over.

She’s not here. She hasn’t tried to reach out to tell him anything. Even a rejection would’ve been better than to let him wait here, his heart breaking a bit more with each passing minute. All this time he’s been trying to convince himself he’ll move on without her if she doesn’t show up. He’ll skip town like the two of them planned to do together. He’ll leave and leave it all behind, Y/N included. But now, looking from this standpoint, being barely a minute away from having to put his foot down on the gas pedal and drive out of the city, pass the sign that’ll tell him he’s passed the threshold, he finds it brings him almost physical pain.

He’s not sure he can do it.

With a heavy sigh he spares the horizon one final glance to see there are only faint traces of the sun he was observing just minutes prior, the final reminder that he has to go now, has to stay true to himself and respect the ultimatum he posed, no matter how much it hurts emotionally, mentally or physically.

Just as he’s about to enter his car, he hears what sounds to be footsteps, but before he can even look up to check where they’re coming from a loud, cheery yell startles him.

“HEY! Look what I got!“ He’d recognize that voice anywhere and no matter what words it says, it’ll always grab his full attention just like it did just now.

Corpse whirls around to face the direction of the voice to see her, Y/N beaming at him brighter than the sun he just watched set. Over one shoulder she has a duffel bag and in the opposite arm she’s dragging a suitcase and if that isn’t confirmation enough, in her free hand she proudly wields what looks to be a document. When she gets closer, his eyes widen at the realization of what she’s holding - divorce papers.

“H-how?“ He stutters in disbelief, his jaw hanging, his heart beating like crazy, his eyes brimming with tears of joy that’s just exploded throughout his chest like a firework.

She rolls her eyes, dropping the papers, suitcase and duffel bag in the dust, “You talk too much.“ With that, she rushes over to him, throwing her arms and legs around him, her head nuzzled in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

Breathing in, they’re both breathing in, with full lung capacity at that - something they never thought they’d have the chance to do, but here they are. Here they stand, shamelessly in each other’s tight , loving embrace that they never want to have to let go of again, afraid of the wrong eyes seeing it.

They are finally free, finally out of the deep end and back to being afloat, floating towards the nearest island to make it their own. And on that note...

“Let’s get out of here.“ Y/N whispers in Corpse’s ear, her fingers tightening the hold of his shirt at his shoulder blades.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

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angryinternetduck · 3 years ago

Text

Lucky

hello hello and welcome to halloween !!!! in august!!!! i know it's weird haha but here's about 6.7k words of harry styles x reader during halloween. featuring a "haunted house" and a cute cat with two names. also caramel apples. enjoy!

masterlist | ask

The house was haunted.

You were sure of it.

And yeah, you thought, looking up at the ginormous mansion looming above you, you were incredibly grateful that the house had fallen to you, but the whole thing was starting to feel like the beginning of a bad horror movie.

Some old relative had died - you weren’t close with them at all, and you felt a bit bad that the only feelings associated with their death were happiness at getting their property - and left you their estates. You’d moved in a few weeks ago, and now you were hearing things.

Things like scratching in the vents, and howling in the wind, and glasses mysteriously crashing to the floor of their own accord in other rooms. The floors always creaked at night, and so did the doors, which randomly swung open and closed.

You hadn’t really wanted to tell anybody about all of this or your suspicions, fearing you’d come off as a bit crazy. Of course, the few people you had told had just laughed and given you the It’s an old house - it’s settling bullshit.

Which you didn’t believe. At all.

What did that even mean, “the house is settling”? Settling for what? Settling down, like it was some middle aged guy who was about to have kids with his wife in the fifties? Or maybe it was settling down like it was angry, and had had a tantrum, and was just settling down into a calmer state. Not that that was any more comforting.

Now, as you struggled to get your key to turn in the lock, you wondered if you could sell the house or something. Everybody you’d asked for advice had told you to wait and fix it up, that you’d regret giving it up when you had four kids and a husband and needed space.

They’d also said it looked like shit so you’d get a crappy deal unless you fixed it up.

Then again, those were the same it’s settling people, so what did they know?

You sighed, finally getting the key to turn, and shoved your shoulder into the door. Making a mental note to oil the door - again - as it creaked, you shut it behind you with your foot before stepping into the living room and collapsing onto the couch.

The couch matched the house: gray, run down, and creaky. There were patches sewn in every so often, and it smelled like old lady perfume. It did the job, though, which was very convenient in the moment but didn’t exactly motivate you to buy a new one very quickly.

You’d turn on the TV, but there wasn’t one. Instead, you stared at the empty, ashy fireplace while you gathered the gumption to get up and off the couch. After a few seconds, you heard something - a little skittering sound in the walls - and frowned, pulling yourself up and towards the stairs.

It was probably just mice, but accompanied with everything else, you weren’t about to take any chances. The stairs, like every other part of the house, creaked as you walked upstairs. You’d almost gotten used to the floorboards around the corner creaking before you got to them, but it still spooked you a bit. When you glanced around the wall and there wasn’t anyone there, as usual, you got changed into comfortable clothes as quickly as you could.

Then you collapsed into the bed. After washing the sheets a few (ten) times, you’d gotten rid of the musty smell, and the huge victorian frame and feathery mattress had become your safe haven. The whole room had become your safe place, really - you’d cleaned and swept until it had somewhat resembled a nice bedroom and not a dusty old crypt.

Once you were there, safe in your room with your headphones on, the house didn’t seem all that bad. A huge window covered the wall right next to your bed, looking out onto rolling grassy fields like something out of a Jane Austen novel.

So you listened to music, imagining a dashing stranger saving you from a twisted angle.

Soon, you were asleep.

***

“Nobody will deliver this far!” you exclaimed, talking into your cell phone as you rooted through the drawers in front of you. “I’ve tried, like, six different places, and they all said it’s too far!” Your friend on the line sighed, and you heard her slurp noodles from the Chinese take out she was eating.

“Well,” she said, “that sucks.”

“Oh, gee, helpful,” you deadpanned.

“Listen, there has got to be someplace you can go,” she told you matter of factly. You frowned, digging through a cabinet. “Yeah, well” - you gasped, jumping a foot into the air as something brushed against your leg - “shit!”

You whipped around, brandishing the pan you’d just grabbed as a weapon. “What the -”

A cat.

There was a black cat, with the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, looking up at you innocently. It meowed loudly, looping through your legs, and you sighed. “It’s a cat,” you explained to your friend.

“You got a cat?”

You scoffed, looking at it as it jumped up onto the counter. “No!” you replied. “No, I - Jesus, of course I didn’t get a fucking cat, I just… I just moved in!” There was a beat of silence, and then your friend said, “So… there’s a strange cat… in your house.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, hesitantly reaching out. It leaned into you, purring loudly, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you said again, laughing a bit. “Listen, listen,” you added, and you put the phone up to the cat.

“That’s cute,” your friend said when you brought the phone back to your ear, sounding a bit worried, “but, uh… does it have a tag, or something?” You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see you, and felt around the cat’s neck. Just fur. “Nope,” you replied.

“Are you gonna… keep it?”

You grinned, scratching its ears, and shrugged. “I dunno.”

***

You wanted to name the cat Lucky.

That night, as the crisp October wind howled outside, you didn’t hear any creaks. The house was practically silent, and you slept like a baby with the little creature curled at your feet. Plus, she - as you’d determined earlier - was black, and with the whole Unlucky Black Cats thing, “Lucky” seemed like a nice little joke.

She was gone the next morning, but you figured she was just somewhere around the house, so you went around calling, “Lucky!” as if she’d respond. It was almost two hours before you gave up, and convinced yourself it was just a fluke and you’d never see her again.

“She’s gone,” you said mournfully by way of greeting your friend as you made breakfast.

“Who?”

“Lucky!”

“Who?”

“The cat,” you sighed. “She’s gone. Wasn’t here this morning.”

“Oh,” your friend replied. “Well, maybe she found her owner!”

You pouted, sliding butter around your pan. “I thought I was her owner…”

“You cannot possibly be so attached to that thing after one night.”

“She’s lucky, though! I swear, the ghosts are afraid of her or something - I didn’t hear a single sound all night!” You could practically hear your friend roll her eyes. “A fluke. Or maybe - yeah, maybe luck. I’m sure you’ll be alright without her.”

“Maybe I should get a cat,” you mused.

Your friend sighed. “Oh, boy.”

***

She was lucky.

Lucky was lucky.

One hundred percent.

There was no doubt about it.

The floors creaked like crazy that night. After hearing it for the first time, peering fearfully into the pitch black hallway, you shut the door tight and huddled underneath the blankets. A terrifying cry accompanied the wind, one that gave you nightmares of women in long white dresses stumbling over the moor, and you woke up in a panic in the middle of the night when you heard something shatter downstairs.

It wasn’t exactly your proudest moment, but you stayed in bed, watching the clock and keeping under the covers and deciding you’d deal with it in the morning. It took forever for you to fall asleep, but once you did, thankfully, you were out until the morning.

Half asleep, you stumbled down the stairs at almost noon.

And there, Lucky was waiting for you.

She meowed at you indignantly, as if you were late, and you gasped, crouching down and scrunching her face between your hands. “Lucky!” you exclaimed. She meowed, and wiggled out of your grasp, and walked in circles around you, keeping her tail against your leg.

You were so relieved that you only got partially annoyed when she made you trip over yourself every two seconds while you cleaned up the broken mug and made breakfast. She was very talented at getting in the way, sitting in the perfect position to be as inconvenient as possible.

She wandered around when you started work, getting bored after twenty minutes of jumping onto your laptop and being pushed off, only to do it again, and again, and again. You lost sight of her but somehow weren’t too worried - if she came back the first time, she’d probably come back again, you reasoned.

Which she did!

Sometimes.

She became your companion as the weeks went on, coming every so often to bother you as adorably as possible before disappearing for a few hours again. Sometimes she’d come during the day, but you were always relieved when she came at night because, for some inexplicable reason, she really made the house quiet and let you sleep.

Sometimes you’d give her a little bit of milk, or whatever you had on you (after properly researching what was okay for cats, of course), but she never seemed very hungry, so you’d never really thought about buying actual cat food for her.

You thought about getting her a collar every so often, but between working on the house, normal work, and just… life, you never really got around to it. Plus, she always seemed to come back, so you didn’t think it was super necessary.

So Lucky hung around, and you got some work done, and everything was good.

***

You’d heard creaking. Lots of creaking. And the occasional mysteriously shattered glass. And the howling in the wind, and skittering in the walls, and the weird drafts, and the unexplained cat - all sorts of weird things.

But this was the first time you heard a voice.

A real, live, human voice.

Well, maybe not live.

You’d been cooking when you first heard it, and, in a panic, you’d grabbed a frying pan. Maybe frying pans were lucky, too; after all, one had been your “weapon” when Lucky had sneaked up on you. She was notably absent, Lucky, by the way, and you wished you had your good luck charm with you as you made your way to the basement, feeling only slightly like an idiot.

Maybe a very scared idiot.

The voice was coming from the basement, which you hadn’t exactly ventured into yet. The whole house had a bit of a creepy-basement vibe, so you weren’t quite enthusiastic to go into the actual basement, where you’d imagine the creepiness would be increased exponentially.

The voice sounded male. And British.

You pictured a British ghost - something old and ancient, judging by the rasp of the voice, although it did sound on the younger side… Maybe it had some sort of paranormal ancient youth. Maybe a sailor, who lived in the house hundreds of years ago, and died at sea… And now, he was back, to haunt you, because you’d… offended him… with your… redecorating?

The stairs were actually pretty quiet, you realized, creeping down them as quietly as you could with your frying pan and marveling at the lack of creaks. You stepped onto the floor, peering around the corner, and realized the ghost - or whatever - must have been outside since the back door was slightly ajar, blowing cool air onto your legs.

If you were being honest, you hadn’t even known that that door existed. A mini lightbulb went off in your head as you realized that was probably where Lucky had been getting in, and you wondered absently if you should get a lock or something for it.

Then your brows furrowed as you got closer and the voice became coherent.

“... you been? ‘ve been looking all over for you… Think you’re so clever, don’t you? Disturbing our nice neighbor like this… Got them to talk to you, did you? Oh, I’m sure, you charmer…” You heaved a breath, kicking open the door -

You brandished the frying pan, yelling, “Who -?!”

“Bloody hell!”

So, you realized then, it was a guy.

And not a ghost.

Very decidedly a guy, actually, from the way the pan hadn’t gone right through him but had rather clanged against his forearm as he threw it up to defend himself. His other hand, it should be noted, was holding a cat.

Specifically, Lucky.

You gasped, lowering your pan. “Oh, my god,” you breathed. “Oh, my god, I am so sorry - I thought you were -” You stopped as Lucky slipped out of the guy’s arms and weaved around your legs, purring louder than a motorboat.

“Hello, there,” the guy said, incredibly pleasant for someone who’d just gotten attacked with a frying pan. “Um - hi,” you replied hesitantly, holding the pan behind your back as if he’d forget about the whole thing if he couldn’t see it. “Hi, I’m - um, I’m sorry.”

“Hi, Sorry,” the guy joked, holding out his non-injured hand, “I’m Harry Styles. Your neighbor.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, shaking his hand as you corrected him with your name.

He repeated your name, smiling as it rolled off his tongue, and despite yourself, you felt a shiver running down your spine. He was good looking, this Harry guy. His eyes rivaled Lucky’s, bright green as he grinned at you. His hair looked a bit grown out, chestnut brown and curling slightly at his temples.

And he had dimples.

Very cute dimples.

And muscles, and -

There was a beat of silence, and you realized you were not so subtly checking him out, and even though you kind of realized he was doing the same to you, you felt your cheeks heat again. Harry cleared his throat, crouching down to pet Lucky as he said, “So, erm - I haven’t seen you around a lot.”

“Yeah,” you replied, laughing a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been… busy.”

Harry nodded, his gaze drifting around you to the messy basement. “I’m sure,” he said. “This place seems like a lot of work.” You shrugged, following his eyes and inspecting the dust and various junk cluttered throughout the room.

“Well, I have time…”

“But not for neighbors, hm?” Harry asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I’m… sorry,” you said again, putting your head in your hands for a second before looking back up. “I hadn’t even thought… I can’t even see your… Do you live, uh - close?” Harry nodded, gesturing vaguely out the back door. “Relatively, I suppose, although - you’re right, you can’t quite… see it… from here.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” you said impulsively, and Harry glanced at you, dimpling again. “Yeah,” he agreed, “reckon I will.” You smiled, suddenly unable to keep eye contact, and then let your gaze dart away after a second.

“And the, erm - the market,” Harry went on. “Haven’t seen you around there. Have you been?”

You shook your head, murmuring, “No,” and Harry tsked, shaking his head back at you, oozing disappointment. “Right, well, that’s just not right,” he said. “That we’ll have to go to sometime. ‘specially now that it’s autumn.” You nodded, and he stood up, dusting off his hands as Lucky came over to you for cuddles.

You expected him to say he was going to go, that he had work to do, or something, but instead, he asked, “Doing anything now?” and grinned, glancing down at the pan, still in your hand. “Besides attacking perfect strangers, of course.”

“I am… so sorry about that,” you said, again, laughing sheepishly, again.

“I’d say it’s fine,” Harry replied, “but, erm… It’s not.”

You felt your eyes widen. “What?”

“I think you’ll have to make it up to me, love,” he told you. You just raised a brow, and he grinned. “Maybe I’ll forgive you if you give me a ride to the market,” he said, and then you smiled. “Easy enough,” you replied, grabbing your keys from your pocket.

Harry dimpled and looked down at Lucky. “Right, then, Dee, let’s go, shall we?”

You frowned. “Dee?”

“Oh, right!” Harry exclaimed, bending down to scoop Lucky into his arms. “I think you’ve met, but this here is Demon. Dee for short.” You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Demon?” you echoed incredulously.

Harry nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, look at this menace! What else would we call her?”

“You’re her owner?”

“Yup. Found her a few months ago, and she just… stuck.”

“Good at that, isn’t she?” you murmured, reaching out to scratch behind her ear.

“Has she bothered you?” Harry asked, looking sympathetic, and you nodded. “Oh, yes, all the time. In the most pleasant way possible, though, so I’m not too mad.” Harry laughed, letting her slip out of his arms and onto the ground.

She ambled out of the basement and into the grass, and, after exchanging a glance with Harry, you both followed her. “I’ve been calling her Lucky,” you told him, closing the door behind you. Harry glanced at you, hands in his pockets, and smiled. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. See, the house is -” You stopped, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “The house is what?” You laughed, a bit embarrassed, and then mumbled, “I think it’s haunted.” Harry nodded, understanding on his face. “Oh, yeah, it definitely is,” he agreed.

You laughed again. “That sure of it, are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips, and nodded at Lucky. “That’s your ghost.”

“Lucky? How -?”

“She’s the one howling, and walking everywhere to make the floors creak, and knocking glasses off the tables,” Harry explained, and your jaw dropped, just a bit. “Oh, my god,” you said, as it all clicked into place. “That’s why - Well, see, I called her Lucky because the” - you put up air quotes - “‘ghost’ never seemed to be around when she was with me. Which I guess makes sense, since if she was with me, she wasn’t… anywhere else…”

“Yup.”

You frowned, glancing over at him. “So, wait - how did you know?”

“Same thing happened to me,” he replied with a shrug. “Was right convinced the place was haunted when I first moved in - was about to sell and everything. Couldn’t take replacing half the cupboard every two weeks. Then I caught her shattering one of my mugs. Then, I got a night light, and saw her lurking around and making a ruckus with the floorboards.”

“A night light,” you repeated, lightly smacking your forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Took me a few weeks, too,” Harry laughed. “You’d’ve gotten there eventually, don’t worry.”

“Sure hope so,” you murmured, smiling as Lucky jumped up onto your car and started to stretch out on the hood. You opened the driver’s side door and leaned against it as Harry gave Lucky a scratch behind her ears.

“Pesky little thing, she is,” Harry said. “Always does the same on my car, and I’m always tempted to just drive with her on top and see what happens.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “How could you?” Harry shrugged, grinning at you. “I’m sure she’d land on her feet.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that now,” you replied, gently scooping Lucky up and placing her on the grass, where she started to daintily lick a paw. Harry got into the passenger seat, and you asked him, “Where’s this market of yours?”

“Up the road,” Harry said vaguely.

You raised a brow, but he didn’t offer any more information.

So you just drove.

***

“Halloween,” Harry said, “is not fun.”

You gasped, scandalized, and exclaimed, “What?”

“It’s too stressful!” Harry groaned. “I never know what to wear! Especially to parties, bloody hell! Like, do you go for it? Full makeup, tons of tulle, a wig? Or don’t go for it? And if it’s really go for it, and you don’t go for it, it’s like, oh, well, too bad. Or if it’s a party, and you’re invited, like, the day of, and everybody’s going for it, and you’re like, oh, I can’t, can’t go, because I don’t have time to plan it, and -” He stopped, sighing, and shook his head. “It’s a whole ordeal.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you replied, biting back a grin.

You were pulling into a parking lot, and you could already see the hustle and bustle of the market. There were booths set up all along the street and around a little courtyard. People talked and chattered, exchanging money and trinkets and smiles and waves.

You both got out of the car and met at the front, taking a moment to admire the view.

“The caramel apples are the best,” Harry told you with a smile.

“Guess we’ll have to go there first.”

Harry nodded, and you started walking. You shoved your hands in your pockets, a bit cold in the autumn wind, as a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. It was only a few seconds before you were stopped, though, when an old man behind a table covered in small wooden carvings called, “Harry!”

“George!” Harry exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug.

“It’s good to see you,” George said cheerily, his gaze darting to you and back to Harry inquisitively. Harry smiled, introducing you as his neighbor. George grinned, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise,” you replied.

“You must be pretty special,” George said. “Don’t think I’ve ever met any other neighbors.”

“We share a cat,” Harry explained, and George’s brow raised.

Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and then said, “Nice talking with you, George. We should catch up later - we’re headed for Mara.” George nodded. “Good boy. You know what they say! The way to a woman’s heart is her stomach, eh?”

“Alrighty, then,” Harry said, gently leading you away. “Bye, George!”

“Bye, Harry! And nice to meet you, neighbor!”

You smiled, waving at him over your shoulder. “You too, George!”

“Swear he’s been running that booth since about 1804,” Harry murmured as you walked away. “‘ve known him all my life, and he’s always looked the same. Beginning to think he’s a vampire.” You grinned, nudging his shoulder. “He seems nice.”

“He is!” Harry agreed. “He is. Like a second father. Hey, here’s Mara.”

You came up to a cluster of booths that steamed and bubbled and swirled together to smell of a blend of spices, sugar, and caramel. One of the booths proudly proclaimed Mara’s Caramel Apples, and shiny golden apples dotted the table.

The woman behind the table - Mara, presumably - lit up when she caught sight of Harry. “Harry, darling!” she cooed, coming around her table to press kisses against each of Harry’s cheeks. “Hullo, Mara,” Harry replied.

“It’s so good to see you!” Mara exclaimed, pinching his cheeks. “You should come around more often, love, you need some meat on these bones of yours.” Harry nodded, gingerly pulling her hand off of him. “I’ll work on that,” he replied, glancing at you and looking amused, if not a bit embarrassed.

“You do that, Harry,” Mara said, stealing one more pinch and making Harry wince before she turned to you. “And who is this, then?” Mara tutted, shaking her head. “Haven’t forgotten your manners, have you?”

“Never, Mara,” Harry assured her, and introduced you.

“Lovely to meet you!” Mara said cheerfully, wrapping you in a hug.

“You too,” you responded.

“How long have you been together, then?” Mara asked, making your face heat as she walked back around the table and started stirring a pot of caramel. “Haven’t seen you around, dear.” Harry coughed, shaking his head, looking as embarrassed as you felt. “Nope, no, we’re not together,” he corrected her. “Just - erm, we’re neighbors.”

“Ah, neighbors,” Mara hummed.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, she moved in where the Carlsons were.”

“Oh, the Carlsons!” Mara said. “A tricky bunch, they were - I’m glad you’re there now.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, smiling slightly at Harry.

Mara wiped her hands off on a cloth and tucked it on a rack before carefully grabbing two pristine caramel apples. “Well,” she said, handing you both a stick, “here you are, dears. Enjoy, now! And come back soon, the both of you!”

Harry pulled out cash, but Mara waved him off. “Oh, nonsense, Harry, you know better than that,” Mara told him. “I’ll give you the family discount, as long as you both promise to come back on your next date.”

“Not a date, Mara,” Harry mumbled, flushing red, and Mara grinned. “Of course. My mistake. Your first date, then.” Your face felt about on fire, and Harry’s was red as a beet as he said, “Right, then, nice talking to you, Mara! Bye, now.” He walked away as she waved cheerily, and you followed him.

Harry looked at you apologetically. “She’s a bit, erm - concerned, as it were,” he said sheepishly. “Haven’t exactly…” He cleared his throat. “She thinks I’m a bit lacking in the romance department.” You raised a brow, and he somehow managed to get even redder.

“I mean! I mean, I’m - I’m not,” he added hurriedly, “I’m really not, ‘f course - but, erm - she thinks…” He sighed, stopping, and shrugged at you helplessly. “So you’re not?” you said, and Harry’s brows furrowed, confused.

“You’re not lacking in the romance department?” you clarified.

Harry frowned. “... No?”

“So… Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

A bit of the red faded from his cheeks. “Oh,” he said. “Well, then, yes. I suppose I’m lacking in the romance department right now. ‘s unusual, though, I’ll have you know. But, erm - how about you?” You shook your head, glancing away from him and around the fair. “Single as a Pringle,” you told him, and you liked to imagine seeing the hint of a smile on his face out of the corner of your eye.

“Gotcha,” Harry hummed. “Right, well, how’s the apple, then?”

You took a bite, savoring it as you crunched on it, and then nodded your approval. “Superb,” you said, and Harry grinned brightly. “Wonderful,” he replied. “‘m glad you like it. Might’ve been a deal breaker if not.”

“That important, huh?”

“Oh, the most important,” Harry said seriously.

You grinned, and Harry dimpled back.

There was a beat of silence, and then he said, “Right, then. Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, licking caramel off his lips. “Anything. Hopes, dreams, fears, favorite color…”

You hummed as you thought, and then told him the first thing that came to mind. He listened as you talked, looking genuinely interested in what you were saying. Butterflies erupted in your stomach every time you made him laugh, and when you flipped the spotlight to him, you found yourself completely lost in his words.

Something about his voice, and his humor, and the way he giggled everytime he made a stupid joke, made the butterflies linger. It was pleasant, though. It wasn’t alarming, or nerve wracking, or even remotely uncomfortable. You weren’t self conscious, or scared to mess up, or worried you’d say the wrong thing.

You were just… happy.

The fair, you realized, wasn’t nearly big enough.

You’d walk the whole world just to keep talking with him.

***

“That was a date,” your friend declared as soon as you finished telling her what had happened. You balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder and blew softly on your hot tea. “No,” you replied, “it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was!” she squealed. “I can’t believe he didn’t kiss you!” She huffed. “I can’t believe you didn’t kiss him!” You rolled your eyes, amused despite yourself, and insisted, “It really wasn’t a date. I was just… making up for slamming a metal pan into his arm.”

You heard her wince. “Yikes.”

You sighed, again, and took a sip of your tea. “He probably has a bruise.”

“Yeah, probably,” she snickered.

“Hey!”

She laughed, sounding way too amused at your misery. “Talk about a meet cute!”

“You are not helping,” you groaned, feeling yourself starting to laugh too anyway.

“Don’t worry,” she giggled, “he’ll think of you everytime he accidently puts pressure on it and screams in pain.” You scoffed indignantly and argued, “He will not scream in pain - it wasn’t that bad.” Your friend hummed skeptically. “I dunno about that… It was a pan, right?”

You took a sip of your tea, sighing heavily. “A tiny pan,” you mumbled into the lip of your mug, and then laughed when your friend started cracking up. “You gotta text me a picture of the bruise,” she gasped through her laughter.

“Okay, there’s no bruise.”

“Dude, it was a pan.”

“A tiny pan!”

That just set off another round of giggles, before finally, your friend relented. “Fine,” she said, “send me a picture of him, and the bruise will just be a bonus.” You agreed, and then said goodnight, and fell asleep with a smile on your face.

***

Your fingers did a dance over the screen of your phone, your lip between your teeth as you debated whether or not to send the text. Harry had given you his number the other day at the market, but you were getting a bit anxious about what to send.

The door really did need to be fixed, you told yourself, glancing down at your flirtatious-if-you-squinted text asking if he’d help you fix your basement door. Especially now, since it wouldn’t stay closed at all; you’d had to put a brick behind it to keep it shut, and even that kept sliding around. It was where Lucky had kept slipping in, you’d figured, and even though she was a pleasant enough intruder, you didn’t really want other less adorable trespassers coming through.

Finally, you took a breath, and sent it.

You stared at your screen for a few seconds as if he’d reply within the minute, and then threw your phone across your bed. Heaving a sigh, you pulled yourself away from your bed and towards the window, fidgeting with your fingers.

You lasted about ten seconds, and then grabbed your phone, and checked.

Nothing, of course, because you sent the text thirty seconds ago.

You groaned and belly flopped onto your bed.

***

Lucky came first.

She jumped up onto your bed and butted against you until you sat up and started petting her.

You pouted at her, smoothing your hand over her head. “Maybe I should’ve waited a few more days,” you murmured to her. “Maybe I made it obvious how desp- or, like, made it seem like I was too desperate.” You raised a brow, gazing down at her. “What about you, huh? Are you too desperate?”

Lucky purred and rolled over, stretching languidly.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you laughed, sliding off your bed and heading for the kitchen.

You paused when you heard the doorbell ring, glancing at Lucky inquisitively like she’d tell you who it was. She gave you a slow blink, and then jumped up, and stretched, and meandered down the hallway. You followed her, almost tripping over her when she stopped suddenly in the middle of the staircase to lick a paw, and opened the door.

“So I sort of forgot any tools,” Harry greeted you. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

Your brows jumped. “I - of course it’s not a - I just thought -” You stopped, glancing down at your phone, which showed no new notifications, and no new texts. “Sorry,” you said, “I wasn’t expecting you so, um - soon.”

Harry laughed, a bit sheepishly, and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Sorry. I was… on the way. I mean, not on the way here, but, like - driving past. Well, not driving past, but sort of - you know, in, erm - in the area. Sort of. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, feeling yourself smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” You stepped back to let him in. “I think it’s open right now, the door - there’s kind of a draft,” you lied. Harry nodded, glancing around the house. “Place looks nice,” he said, and you smiled again, following his gaze.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Was a bit dreary before,” Harry said softly, letting his hand lightly skim the bright throw blanket you’d put on the sofa as he passed. “Downright dull,” you agreed, and he glanced at you, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “Where’s this door, then?”

“Downstairs,” you answered, stepping forward to lead him around the corner and down the steps. “The basement’s a bit creepy,” you warned him, tugging on the light. “Haven’t quite gotten down here yet.”

“Noted,” Harry murmured.

“It’s back here,” you said, weaving around a few cardboard boxes to get to the door.

It was, in fact, open, which was purely coincidental but pretty convenient. “Cold,” you said simply, shrugging at him. “Yeah,” Harry replied, “cold.” You smiled, not sure why, and then stepped outside, inspecting it without a real purpose in mind.

He stepped out too, and you gently pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then it swung open with a creak.

“Might be the lock,” Harry said, bending down to look at the little bit of metal against the side.

Lucky appeared as he fiddled with the mechanism, weaving through his legs, and he gave her scritches as he pushed the lock in and out a few times. “Looks fine,” he started, and then stopped when Lucky plopped down on top of his foot.

“Don’t know how she expects us to do any work like this,” Harry said with a grin, and you laughed, crouching next to him to pet her too. “She’s moral support,” you replied, and Harry raised a brow. “The most bothersome moral support ever.”

You shrugged. “The cutest most bothersome moral support ever.”

“If you say so,” Harry said, gently sliding her off his foot. He slid his hand over the door to its other side, where the hinges were, and then his face lit up. “Right, I have an idea.” He turned to you, looking excited, and asked, “Have a hammer?”

“Uhhh… probably?” You looked around the basement, then pushed open a closet door where a tool box poked out, and handed him a hammer. He nodded, glancing at the hinge again. “Er - how about a screwdriver?”

You gave it to him, and then watched over his shoulder as he gently tapped the pin out of the hinge in the middle of the door. He put it on the floor, raising the hammer over it, and you raised a brow at him. He looked up at you, grinning, and you couldn’t find it in you to tell him to stop. “I have a plan,” he told you.

“Sure, Styles.”

He scoffed, sitting back on his heels. “You know, your lack of faith is a bit disheartening.”

“I think you’re just stalling because you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He smiled, a challenge in his eyes, and then sat forward and hammered the pin, right in the middle. It bent, just slightly, and then he held it up, looking satisfied. He slid it back into the hinge, tapped it down, and worked on getting the other one out.

Once he’d gotten a curve in that one, he put it back and got the next. You watched in skeptical silence as he put that one back… and then stood up and dusted off his hands. “There you have it,” he announced.

“There’s no way that’s gonna work,” you said.

Harry just stepped back and pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then -

It stuck.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, pulling it out to close it again. It stuck, again, and you looked up at him happily. “Oh, wow, I can’t believe that worked! How did you even know how to do that?” Harry shrugged, fiddling with the door. “These old houses are practically identical. My bedroom door had the same problem.”

“Well, lucky me.”

He glanced at you, and held your gaze, just for a second, with a smile on his lips, and then his cheeks dusted pink. You felt heat rise on your own cheeks, realizing in the back of your mind that the whole door endeavor took a lot less time than you’d expected and now he’d probably leave.

He walked inside, making a grand gesture of holding the door open for you. “C’mon, then,” he said as you walked through and wracked your brain for ideas on how to keep him with you, “I need a tour.” You grinned, wondering if he could read your mind, and then nodded. You paused at the edge of the basement door and turned around.

“So,” you said, “this is the basement.”

“Enlightening.”

“The land of boxes,” you told him, and he smiled before following you out and up the steps to the living room. This was where you’d done the most work, clearing out the old grey furniture and replacing it with bright new pieces.

You put your arm out, gesturing widely to the room and spinning around. “And here’s the living room.” Harry followed you, making a slow circle and inspecting it. “I like the art,” he said, his eyes on the paintings you’d put on the wall.

“Thanks,” you said. “Me too.”

“Have you seen the gallery in town?” Harry asked as he followed you towards the kitchen. You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “No, I haven’t,” you answered, giving him a smile. “You’ll have to take me.”

Then, ignoring the butterflies his returning smile gave you, you went on, “And here’s the kitchen.” Lucky jumped up onto the counter next to you, and you grinned, petting her. “It’s her favorite room in the house.”

“I’m sure,” Harry laughed. He scratched her behind her ears, then walked around the room, his fingers tracing lightly on the white wooden table you’d chosen for the center of the room. “I like this better,” he said. “The Carlsons’ made the room look a lot smaller than it was.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I agree… Was too big. Made it cramped.” Harry’s gaze went out the back windows, which were floor to ceiling and looked out on the small woods in the backyard. There was a beat of silence, and then you walked over to stand next to him. “Were you… in here a lot?”

Harry shook his head. “Not really. I think they invited me when I first moved in… but that’s sort of it.” You hummed in response, and then asked, “Were you close with, uh - with the Carlsons?” Harry shrugged. “Eh. Not really. Y’know. Neighbor stuff.”

You bit your lip, smiling slightly. “Didja take them to the fair?” Your smile widened as Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “But we didn’t share a cat, so I think the rules are a bit different.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” Harry hummed, looking back outside. “Yeah, there’s a bit more…” He tilted his head back and forth, searching for the right word. “Intimacy,” he finally seemed to decide, giving you a smile that tugged his lips into an almost-smirk. “We’re co-parenting a little one, after all. There’s got to be some… dinners involved.”

“Ah, yes, dinners,” you echoed solemnly. “To discuss parenting techniques.”

Harry nodded. “You get it.”

“She’s a bit spoiled, you know,” you said, watching her jump from the counter onto the table and sprawl out on the wood. “So we should probably get on those dinners.” Harry grinned. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, and you nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Like, as soon as possible.”

His face lit up. “As soon as possible? As in, tonight?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a slow smile growing on your face. “As in tonight.”

Harry grinned back at you. “It’s a date.”

***

okay i KNOW this is weird sldkfj but it'll all make sense soon <333 hope you enjoyed !!!!!

and if you're liking this whole wrong-season-for-the-holiday thing, have no fear because there's a christmas fic coming soon!!!

masterlist | ask

#lol. never too soon to start celebrating halloween am i right !!!!!#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x you #halloween #halloween in august

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misssunflowersandsangria · 3 years ago

Text

At Home with You

Happy @inoshikachoweek week and happy best friends day! I love every incarnation of Team 10 so I really wanted to write something at least for the last day. Thank you to @thespookymoth and @pewpewpew for hosting this week! Hope that you enjoy!

Prompt: Best Friends

Summary: When you’re best friends home and family can take many different forms.

At Home with You

Ino

“There you are!” Curious brown eyes looked up hearing a familiar voice. Inojin grinned watching the deer trot over towards him excitedly.

Inojin pet the deer’s fur affectionately, thankful that he seemed to still remember him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around a lot lately.” The animal didn’t seem to mind and welcomed the loving touches.

“Come on buddy, let’s take a walk. I’ve got some time before I have to go home.” Inojin could have sworn there was some understanding in those soft eyes as the animal fell into step with him.

The peace and solitude the dense forest provided was much needed after so many difficult and grueling missions. He found solace in the twilight with his faithful companion by his side.

The pair took breaks along their walk to eat and drink. Their gait relaxed and steady with no goal or end in sight. Inojin would feed the animal treats and pet his soft fur. All the while the deer nuzzled in familiarity into his gentle hands.

Coming to a stop they relaxed by the water. Inojin reclined into the deers side to sketch the landscape. Nestling into the deer’s soft fur and comforting warmth. It was this quiet slice of heaven away safe from the noise.

“So this is where you’ve been running off to?”

Inojin looked startled, surprised by the amused looks on his Uncle and Aunt’s face.

Subconsciously Inojin stepped forward placing himself between the deer and them.

“We don’t mind you coming here but you need to let your parents know where you are.” Temari gently scolded him.

Shikamaru looked curiously behind Inojin. A familiar deer posed as though it was ready to defend its friend if necessary.

“I assume your visits have to do with the deer behind you?”

“I come by when I dont have missions to see him.” Inojin admitted with a sigh. There was no way to lie his way out of this.

Temari and Shikamaru were surprised by the revelation. Shikamaru recognized the deer as the injured one that Inojin had found and he had treated. He remembered Inojin being terrified and distraught, hoping the deer might make it through. They didn’t quite realize how much of an impression the experience had made.

Temari had seen him earlier heading towards the forest where he was able to walk about freely. It seemed odd though that he was going there alone.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Inojin shrugged, not really having a response. He thought it might be embarrassing to admit having grown attached to the deer.

“I couldn’t…I couldn’t save Akkun. So when I was able to save this one I felt connected to him I guess.”

They knew all about that little creature that he’d bonded with during the mission in Iwagakure. Ino and Sai had considered getting him a pet to help with his grief but worried it might be too soon.

Shikamaru moved forward towards them, kneeling in front of him. “Your grandfather used to love walking through here too.”

“Really?” Inojin asked surprised but always happy to learn anything he could about his grandfather.

“The Yamanaka jutsu can be very difficult mentally and spiritually. He always found reconnecting with nature as a way to reset. He even had his own favorite deer. Shikadai’s grandfather would complain that he was out here more than him.” Shikamaru remembered when his father would go out into the dense forest to check on his friend.

“Inojin attachments and bonds are a wonderful thing. Companionship and friendship make life meaningful. They aren’t something you ever have to hide.” Inojin smiled up at Temari, her words having a lifetime of experience behind them.

“Did you give him a name?”

“Aki, I found him on the first day of Fall.”

“Well thank you Aki for taking care of Inojin here.”

Shikamaru kindly rubbed the deer’s head. Sure the Naras were known for their connection with these animals but he was thankful that Inojin saw their value as well.

“Let your mom and dad know, okay kid. That way they won’t worry.” Temari guided him gently. She could understand his draw towards the Nara forest. She would often escape there just to have some quiet.

Inojin nodded, grateful that he didn’t have to keep his trips a secret. That he could tell his parents and his teammates about his friend. He’d been wanting his parents to come join him for a while now.

“Let Shikadai know you’re coming out here. He’s supposed to be guarding and keeping this place secure. Seeing as you’ve been able to come in and out undetected means he’s not doing his job.” He laughed but hoped his friend wouldn’t be too upset.

The trio remained out there in the fading sunlight as more deer came forward recognizing the clan heads. Enjoying the mystery and wonder of it all.

Inojin at times was just like his father. He struggled with certain social cues and norms. Often finding himself confused by some customs. But he found there in the quiet of the forest, with his faithful friend, and family a feeling of home.

Shika

Shikadai took a tentative taste before a thoughtful look crossed his face.

“It needs something.”

Karui took a spoonful of the broth before nodding. “You’re right. Go ask your Uncle Chouji for more tomatoes.”

Shikadai went into motion and made his way over to where the Akimichi was prepping the ingredients. ChoCho would often complain about her parents but Shikadai found them to be warm and welcoming. Always genuinely happy to see him.

“We’re gonna need more diced tomatoes.”

“You got it, kid.”

Shikadai wasn’t sure when it happened exactly. He’d been over at the Akimichi’s one night for dinner and had been roped into helping. Despite his silent complaints, he’d actually enjoyed the cooking process. It was almost like a science experiment. Mixing the ingredients to get the perfect reaction. After that day he’d come by ever so often to learn more techniques and to try out various recipes. Who better than an Akimichi to teach him to cook? ChoCho loved it when he came over, as he often made enough for her to try a new dish.

Today he had something special planned. His uncles had sent him a recipe for his mom's favorite dish from Suna. He wanted it to be a surprise so he’d made his way to the Akimichi kitchen.

“My dad taught your grandfather how to cook,” Chouji told him with a grin. Shikadai looked up, never having heard this story.

“When they were younger your grandmother was just as good of a cook as she is now. Uncle Shikaku wanted to impress her. It was a complete failure. Apparently, he managed to burn through not only the food but multiple pots and pans. He was banned from cooking on Akimichi lands for a while. After my dad forgave him he gave him a few less-flammable lessons. It wasn’t too helpful but there was some improvement. Your father is no better. For being geniuses they sure are useless in the kitchen. You might be the only hope for the Nara line.”

Shikadai smiled at the thought. His mother had mentioned something similar to him when he’d helped her a few times. It wasn’t a skill that Naras were known for nor would it be one that he advertised. Still, it was a useful ability and oftentimes a needed distraction.

Karui yelled a few additional items they needed and he stood next to Chouji prepping the additional items.

They added the required ingredients, checking the flavor as he went along. The two Akimichis watched him with a smile at his attention and precision. Temari’s look of pure determination on his face and his movements were all Shikamaru. Like the dish he made, he was a perfect mix.

“I’ve got to hand it to you kid. You’re a natural. You’re always welcomed in my kitchen.” Karui praised him after tasting the completed recipe.

She affectionately ruffled his hair. “Your mom is going to love it.”

Shikadai recalled those precious times together around a table with warm food between them.

A home-cooked meal was the perfect reminder of home.

Cho

“Thanks again for coming by! Your wife is going to love the flowers.” ChoCho yelled out to the customer.

She then worked to spray down the counter then watered a few of the plants. It was a quiet day at the store but she loved it nonetheless. The Yamanaka flower shop was one of her favorite places in the village. She was getting older. Their team missions were more complicated and layered. For her. working at a place that was so normal was a needed reprieve.

It started a few weeks ago. Inojin had begged her to cover his shift while his parents were off on a mission. She agreed only after he offered her a king’s ransom in snacks and a no-questions-asked favor to be cashed in the future. After getting a quick training session and learning the ropes she thoroughly enjoyed her time there. She was in the company of flowers and got to meet and interact with people all over the village. It was a natural fit. From then on ever so often Inojin would ask her to fill in. She’d whine and complain which increased Inojin’s offerings but she’d ultimately agree.

“ChoCho!” She smiled brightly seeing the Yamanakas walk in. They knew that she was there for the afternoon but assured her they’d be back as early as possible.

ChoCho idolized Ino. The Yamanaka Clan head was strong, wise, and beautiful. ChoCho loved her mom but she was still an authority figure. Ino was her cool Aunt. Since she could remember the blonde had assured her that she’d be a willing confidant and support. There were a few times that she elicited her help and advice.

“We appreciate you coming by to help us,” Sai thanked her with a soft smile. He wasn’t a man of many words but he was always kind and welcoming towards her. His smile reminded her very much of her teammate.

“I love it here. I get to see so many people and hear a lot of different stories.” Her favorites were always of nervous individuals hoping to find that perfect bouquet to impress a special someone.

“It’s a pretty special place. Your grandfather still buys your grandmother flowers every month on the 7th. When I'd come here to help my dad I always loved seeing him come in. I'd help him pick out the flowers to give her.” ChoCho fondly thought about the blossoms that would consistently fill their home. She couldn’t help but love how connected their families were.

Sai helped her move a few buckets of flowers to refill the shelves. “When your father started dating your mom he didn’t know what her favorite flower was so he ended up just buying all of them,” Sai recalled that day.

He’d come to spend time with Ino when the Akimichi had come in a panicked state. Their team had argued back and forth about the best arrangement of flowers until Shikamaru convinced Chouji to just buy them all and figure out Karui’s favorite later.

ChoCho grinned surprised by the sweet story. Surprised that the old man had some moves back in the day.

Her father had come by earlier to her embarrassment but they had worked together to arrange a beautiful bouquet for her mother. She often wondered at their relationship but their love was something undeniable. ChoChohoped that her teammates took notes about how to treat those they loved.

ChoCho fell into step with the Yamanakas helping to clean up before she was set to leave. And of course, she was on her way to see her team.

“You’re always welcome here, you know that right?” Ino assured her. She had a special bond with the Akimichi. It wasn’t always easy being the female in their trio.

Surrounded by a melody of flowers and the warmth of family, this was just like a second home.

“I know.”

* **

The 17th generation of InoShikaCho sat together in the cramped booth talking about everything and nothing all at once. A similar scene of love and familiarity having occurred many times in the past.

At times the pressure to uphold their family’s legacy could be suffocating. Certain heavy expectations and hopes were placed on their shoulders. But they knew at the end of the day they were luckier than most. They were teammates and best friends. Not just by circumstances but by choice. No matter what happened in this life, because of that bond they’d always have a home.

Did you see what I was trying to do here? I love the customs that each family has but I like to see them interacting with each other.

Life got pretty hectic so writing needed to take a back seat. I’m thankful that I was able to write what little I could. I hope to be posting more regularly soon. Thanks for your support and good vibes.

My sincere love, thanks and admiration for everyone who supported this week! You are all amazing! Love, love to you all!

#inoshikachoweek #inoshikachoweek2021 #day 7 #best friends #best friend day #nartuo fanfic #team 10 #inojin yamanaka #shikadai nara #chocho akimichi #shikatema #saiino #chokarui #sangriaslips #Sunflowerstalks

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lizzy-williams · 4 years ago

Text

𝐭𝐰𝐨

♡ Warnings: sexual intercourse, language, drugs, sexual assult, threesome

♡ Request: Would you do a imagine where the reader is best friends with Colson and Yungblud and they go to a bar and this guy is touching on the reader and her trying to get away and they come and save her and ends with jealous kinky ASF smut??

♡ Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-URGVmuYIQ

Animal by Sir Chloe

masterlist

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 admit, even though you weren’t really an extroverted person, dancing with your two friends was enjoyable, and actually fun. It was nice to let loose and move your body like nobody was watching.

I Think I’m Okay was now an award winning song, and you were there to watch it all, being friends with Colson before hand. And meeting Domanic was just the thing you needed. He brought a sense of energy to the group, and Colson became instant friends.

Their friendship was close, and you were thankful to have such a good friendship triangle. Each of you balanced each other out, and at the center of the two boys was you. You were the peace before the disturbance. You were good for them, almost like a guardian, keeping them in check.

But over time, you felt yourself gain feelings. But for both of them. And you hated it. Being the person you were, you were indecisive as hell. And you weren’t stupid, you saw the way they would look at you. Like there was something they wanted. So in retrospect, you could have either of them. But you wanted them both.

But now that you were on a crowded club floor, dancing and touching the boys, switching back and forth. You were with Colson at the moment, his hands on your waist as he stood behind you, his breath felt in the crook of your neck, making you back up more into him, and it was obvious that he had a hard on, making you smile to yourself. You loved how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, okay?” you finally said, trying your best to talk over the music streaming through the large speakers.

Colson was close to coming with you, not wanting to lose the contact that he had an insatitable craving for. But instead, all he did was nod his head, which he mentally kicked himself for.

You smiled, sinking away in the stuffed crowd of people, Colson keeping his eyes on you until you were out of sight.

As you walked up to the bar, you ordered a Sex On the Beach, leaning over the counter as you waited.

“You here alone?” a voice brushed up closely to your right ear as you whipped around in shock, frightened; it was a voice you had never heard before.

Your thoughts scrambled to find a response that would make him leave you alone, the vibes he gave you were totally off, and you wanted nothing to do with him as his eyes raked up and down your body.

“Uh, yeah, I have a boyfriend.” you responded confidently, trying not to seem scared, even though you were terrified.

He suddenly grabbed your wrist making you yelp out, trying to get away as he struggled to get away. Out of self-defence, you held up your hand, giving him a harsh and brutal slap to his face, almost loud enough for people to hear over the speakers.

“You fucking slut!” he yelled, pushing you to the ground making you hit your head... hard.

It was honestly a fuzzy blur what happened next, your vision hazy as you tried to make sense of what was happening. You saw two blurry figures make their way quickly towards you, one of them holding you up, shaking you a little. The other hazy form proceeded to kick the shit out of the guy that caused all this, your confused mind trying to make sense of all of this.

You were then stood up and walked out the front door. When your vision was finally coming to, you were face to face with Dominic, who had a severely concerned look etched onto his face.

“Wh-What the fuck,” you mumbled.

“My thoughts exactly, what the fook happened?” Dominic’s voice was almost frantic with worry.

“I dunno... where’s Colson??” you asked, noticing that the tall blond was absent from your view.

“Currently beating the shit out of the guy that shoved you. Did he hurt you anywhere else?” he asked, touching your head lightly to see where your head hit the solid floor.

“No, he just scared me, that’s all,” that’s all you muttered, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach as you recalled the events leading up to your head injury.

“Come ‘ere,” he hummed, pulling you into a tight hug, happy that you were okay.

“You have to admit, that was a pretty good hit though,” you laughed into the side of his neck, his arms squeezing gently, pulling your small frame closer to his.

“I only saw the half of it. I’m proud of ya, love, you really handled yourself in there,” he smiled, resting his chin on the top of your head, smiling contently.

The door to the club suddenly burst open, a bloody Kells coming into view, his eyes frantically looking around for you. Once he caught sight of both you and Dom, he rushed over, hugging the both of you.

“Jesus fuck, are you okay, [ y / n ]??” he question, looking at your head to see a bruise forming from where it was struck.

You nodded, wondering how many times the two boys would be asking you that. It felt nice, having your two best friends check on you like this. Of course it was no surprise that they would make sure you were okay, but they went out of their way to protect you, Dom for emotional support and Colson for physical protection, beating the fuck out of a perv was probably one of the nicest things someone had done for you, and for that, you were grateful.

“We should head to your place, Cols.” Dom spoke up, Colson giving a quick and steady nod.

*****

As you reached Colson’s house, you were exhausted, but mostly trying to get over the throbbing headache making its assault on your brain. You collapsed on the couch, leaning all the way back, trying your best to relax, your head thrown back against the back cushion of the piece of furniture, letting out a deep exhale.

Little did you know that the two boys watched the unintentionally erotic actions, the two of them awkwardly shuffling to the kitchen trying to hide their obvious hard-ons.

You heard them from the living room, whisper yelling at each other, as you tried to make out what they were actually saying. Soon enough, they came back to the living room.

“Hey, I was thinking that all of us could chill upstairs and watch a movie or something, if that’s okay with you,” Colson spoke up, and you had to say, it didn’t sound like a bad idea.

Watching movies with Dom and Colson was fun, because you were basically movie commentators. And you had gained many inside jokes from movie nights, so needless to say, you were down for it.

“Yeah, but what about this,” you motioned to your body that was still displaying your short black club dress, your heels already kicked off and on the floor.

“You can use one of my hoodies,” Colson suggested.

“Pants?”

“Who needs pants, we’re your best friends, [ y / n ], we don’t care.” Colson objected, trying everything in his power to see you in an outfit that he had only dreamed about... you in his sweatshirt, with nothing but your panties on underneath? The thought made him almost drool.

“Come on, love, what’s the worst that could happen?” Dom chirped.

*****

“Yo, [ y / n ], you almost done in there?!” Colson yelled out to you in his bathroom, the two other boys already comfortable in Colson’s king sized bed, the TV displaying Netflix.

You just looked at yourself in the mirror. You were about to walk out in this? It’s not like the sweatshirt was the problem, the damn thing went nearly down to your lower thigh. It was the fact that you were pants-less. Colson did have a point, they were your best friends, and they truly wouldn’t care, but something in the back of your head told you that there was a part of them that did care, and not in an innocent way.

“Yeah, coming!” you called out, fixing your hair best you could before stepping out.

As you opened the door, you watched at the two boys looked your way, the reactions priceless. Dominic loved how sweet and innocent you looked, the sweater reaching over your hands was the cutest thing he had ever seen. And Colson felt a swell of pride in his chest, knowing that the girl he was falling for was wearing his sweatshirt almost like a trophy.

“Come on, then,” Dom patted the open space between him and Colson, a bright smile on his face.

You smiled in return, jumping into bed and snuggling under the covers quickly, pulling them up. Dominic couldn’t hide the hearts in his eyes as he snaked his hand around your waist and Colson’s hand gently finding your own.

The movie went on, and the three of you were more quiet than usual. Even though the movie in front of you on the screen was one of the stupidest movies you had ever seen. Nothing would make any of you crack.

After almost an hour of deafening silence, you finally spoke, “ Thank you guys...,” you muttered, your voice barely higher than a whisper.

The two turned to you and they smiled, “Of course,” Colson said, his hand squeezing yours.

“Anytime, m’love.” Dom agreed.

You then took notice how the boys had now moved closer to you, the space between the three of you closing in. And almost like a dream, the two of them let their hands roam. But you didn’t stop them. You didn’t want to.

“Wh-What are you-”

“Shh, just let us make you feel good, princess,” Colson muttered against you as you felt him lick the shell of your ear, Dom’s hands shifting up and down your waist, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake.

Considering what happens only a few hours ago, a normal person would push them away, it was almost common sense. But they weren’t the perv at the bar, they were people you trusted. And you trusted them with everything.

You let Colson’s hands found their way under the sweatshirt, while Dom’s hands found their way to your thighs, squeezing and prodding. And usually what would be self consciousness, you felt it melt away as he muttered praise, your body confidence raising with every admiring comment.

Colson’s hand found it’s way to your breasts, kneading and rubbing his thumb over the pebbled nipples, making you let out a small whimper of want. You wanted so much more.

“Such a needy lil thing, aren’t ya, [ y / n ]?” Dom whispered, his hand taking the hem of your underwear and pulling it down slowly, your legs seemingly had a mind of their own as they moved to accommodate his actions.

Dom’s fingers gently drifted up your thighs, than to your slit, grazing your clit as you whined. Colson’s hands were now all the way up your shirt.

“No bra, huh?” Colson smirked, tweaking your nipple as you let out a sigh, your eyes meeting his, “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

“You wanted both of us?” Dom pressed, the pads of his digits now pressing harshly against your clit, making you whine out, making your head throw back.

Colson took this opportunity to attack your neck with needy, wet kisses. You hand went up to his hair, your fingers pulling gently against his hair, as his tongue licked a strip up your throat.

You let out a full on moan at the erotic action, and the two boys couldn’t lie, they were taken back by it. But shock soon turned into want as you watched Dom shift, pulling your legs open, his form going between your thighs.

“You like it dirty, huh princess?” Colson continued to whisper dark nothings into your neck, “I never took you as a kinky girl... do you wanna be our good girl? At least for to night?”

You nodded your head, “Yes.”

“Yes what, baby?” he lifted his hands up, his fingers gently covering your neck.

“Yes, daddy, I want to be your good girl,” you sighed, and your body soon relaxed as his lips met yours.

Meanwhile, Dom was staring at your pussy. This was something that he had been picturing for weeks. He touched himself to the possiblities of what it was look like. But now that he was face to face with it, he could feel the painful strain his pants had on his shaft.

“Gotta stretch you out, love, are you alright with that?” he asked.

“Yes, daddy...,” you muttered out.

“Daddy, huh?” realizing that he was zoned out while you had your exchange with Colson. He had been called many things. Maybe even Master. But daddy was a change of pace, and he thought he would try it on for size.

Dom looked at you face the entire time as you felt his finger sink deep into your core. You let out loud moans. You wanted this more than anything. He then leaned down, never shifting his eyes away from your face as you threw your head back, letting out moans when his tongue finally made contact with your clit. It was heaven, and he obviously knew what he was doing.

Colson messed with your breasts. But soon he became irritated by the fabric covering your upper half. He stripped you of his sweatshirt, and his lips went directly to your breasts.

You were in nirvana as the two boys ravished your body. The coil inside of you began to tighten, and you knew it would snap if Dom kept hitting you just right and harshly sucking your clit.

“Daddy! F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” desperate for release, you held onto his hair.

“Let go, baby, we have you,” Colson muttered against your temple before giving a sweet kiss to the area. Almost out of instinct, you took one of your hands away from Dom’s hair and intertwined it with Colson’s large hands.

You suddenly felt your orgasm crash over you violently like a tidal wave, your core clenching Dom’s fingers like a fist, your legs shaking, Dom’s hands holding them still as he licked you clean, helping you ride out your high.

Colson suddenly reached his free hand down to your sensitive pussy and swiped his fingers along your slit, gathering your cum on his fingers as he brought it up to his mouth, sucking on them.

“Fuck, darlin’, you taste amazing...,” Dom cut in, licking his lips that were once coated in your essence.

Dom ripped your small hand away from his hair, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist, peppering it with affection.

“If you two don’t get undressed soon, I might flip out,” you enquired, almost too excited to see the fully exposed bodies of the forms you had been fantasizing about ever since you found out you had feelings for them.

They obliged but they made sure that that was the only demand you were making that night. once they were fully nude, you almost felt like drooling, the both of them bigger than you had pictured them.

And now you could see how many tattoos Colson actually had.

You watched as the two got nearer, both of them closing in around you. You felt like you were going to burst, wanting them both so badly.

Dom immediately went to your side, Colson taking position at the foot of the bed, his eyes trained on you as he gave a few swift pumps to his shaft. Dominic kissed you passionately, his tongue running over your bottom lip.

Colson soon got on top of you, the feeling of his cock dragging right over your pussy making you moan out silently.

“Ready, princess?” he growled, his head going to the side of your neck.

You nodded.

“Now, come on love, use your words darlin’,” Dom tisked, his hand running over your breast.

“Yes, Daddy.” you muttered, Colson’s lips meeting yours as he began to slowly sink into you, your hand clutching Dom’s as you tried to adjust.

“Fuck, princess, so fucking tight, aren’t you, huh?” Colson groaned against the skin of your neck.

“Does it feel good, love?” Dom asked, wanting to hear you tell him everything you were feeling. He, in fact, had a slight voyeurism kink.

“It feels so good, daddy, fuck he’s stretching me out so fucking good,” you cursed rapidly as Colson started to move, his hips slamming into yours harshly, giving you somewhat little time to adjust.

You let out loud moans of pleasure, Dom taking your breasts and putting them in your mouth, wanting nothing more than to give you as much pleasure as he could. You loved the feeling of his tongue rolling over your pebbled nipples, the heat radiating off the two boys highly erotic, making you only want them more.

“F-Faster daddy,” you muttered, your hand reaching up to his hair, his other hand now on his back, scratching it up as you felt Colson’s groan let out vibrations that made you whine.

“Anything for you, princess,” he groaned, his hips soon slamming against yours, fucking you hard, fast, and raw. It was amazing, and nothing like you had ever had before. It was thrilling.

You watched as Dom continued to lick your nipples. But you felt bad. Colson was getting his pleasure. And you decided Dom did too. You took your hand that was on Colson’s back, and taking his cock in your hands, giving it a squeeze as you watched his reaction. It almost made you cum right then and there.

“Fuck, you look so gorgeous like this,” he grunted, your hand now moving up and down quickly, your thumb occasionally brushing over a throbbing vein.

Colson violently fucked you, his shaft appearing and disappearing in your folds. It felt amazing as you felt two pair of hands ravaging your body like they were. Dom’s hand was now between your legs, pinching you clit, making you clench.

The feeling of euphoria came closer and closer as you began to tense up.

“You gonna cum, baby?” Colson hissed against your skin.

“Yes, daddy, please let me cum! I’ve earned it...,” you pleaded, wanting nothing more than to let go, but not without they’re say so.

“Hold on just as little while longer, love, I want us all to cum together,” Dom sighed, his hand now rubbing quicker.

But you couldn’t. You were so close, so selfish, you wanted to cum. So bad.

And you did. And it felt so fucking good, your legs shaking, your core tensing, and your grip on Dom’s cock tightening.

It started a chain reaction, Colson’s hips stuttering as he felt you clench, his cum shooting into you, Dom cumming right after you.

You all road out your highs. But after all of you were down to earth, they each gave you deadly glares of disappointment. You had a look of guilt etched on your face.

“And you were doin’ so good,” Dom muttered, getting up and standing at the foot of the bed, Colson doing the same thing.

“Get the rope.” Colson gave you a dangerous look.

You fucked up.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly smut #yungblud #yungblud x reader #yungblud smut #hotel diablo #tickets to my downfall #concert for aliens #estxx #rookxx #bloody valentine #bazexx #machine gun kelly imagine #yungblud imagine

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wonniesmile · 4 years ago

Text

❥ playground! (ep. 2)

⤷ ellie’s moments in playground episode 2! (ft. txt <3)

⤷ bulletpoint format!

⤷ after a long wait, episode 2 is finally out! don’t forget to leave suggestions for new fics!!!

“HOW THE HECK DID YOU BEAT ME AGAIN.”

huening and ellie were once again playing on the nintendo, waiting on the others to finish getting ready for the next shoot.

“ellie please. please let me win. just this once...for my dignity.”

the boy gets on the floor and starts bowing.

ellie starts freaking out, obvi.

“NO PLEASE DON’T BOW!”

she’s in a very frantic state at this very moment, no clue why...but, i mean it’s ellie...right?

“what’re you guys playing?”, “oh- um- mario k-”

ellie looks up from her position, DUN DUN DUN.

that was like...really cringe, i’m so sorry.

it was none other than the choi beomgyu. standing. right. in. front. of. her.

“oh- oh my god- uh- h- he- hello!” she musters up a greeting and quickly bows.

“you don’t need to bow ellie! we’re friends!”

oh no, this poor girl’s heart.

if she dies from an early heart attack, it was bcs of choi beomgyu, just giving everyone a heads up! /j

anyways, her face was like BEET red.

from across the room, her members were watching her every move.

sunoo was laughing at how serious the rest of them were.

“can you guys like...idk...calm down? she’s literally fine.”

“i know, but...” (jake)

“but what?” (sunoo)

“oh you know...” (jungwon)

“can ya’ll finish the damn sentence?” (sunoo and jay)

“it’s nothing...” (sunghoon)

“jesus christ, you guys are insane.” (sunoo)

“five minutes!”

ellie’s head shoots up.

“darn it, i almost beat you.”

“not even close huening, ellie is the master.”

her cheeks, once again, burn up.

before she could thank beomgyu, ellie is pulled away by jungwon.

“what the heck wonie?”

“it’s time to go.”

she’s obviously very confused? what was getting into him?

choosing to ignore his attitude, ellie obliges and lets the boy drag her into the studio.

he spoke no words...very odd.

ellie started overthinking...did she do something subconsciously???

“places please!” she massages her temples and goes backstage to wait for her group’s cue.

the episode started with each group dancing on stage.

their instructions were to “have fun!”

she gave it her ALL, messing around...and even getting into a dance battle with riki.

she found it absolutely hilarious, but unfortunately, her face dropped at the sight of jungwon.

obviously, something was bothering him, but she didn’t have the courage to ask...at least not now when everyone seemed to be having fun.

jungwon was not one to show his emotions outwardly, so to a normal person, he seemed like his usual self.

but, ellie knows better, she can read jungwon like the back of her hand...something was up.

she made a mental note to herself to ask him if he was ok after the shoot.

the first game was an absolute BLAST.

they were competing to see which team they would have to play on.

since there was an odd number of people, ellie didn’t have to compete against anyone. instead, she got to choose which team she wanted to be on.

(she secretly enjoyed it)

she looked at the two teams in front of her.

her original plan was to go into the yellow team so both teams would have an equal amount of enhypen members, but she felt iffy about doing so because of jungwon...

she could possibly be overthinking things, but she didn’t want to take any risks.

making eye contact with him one last time, she looks over at the red team and points finger guns at them.

“yay ellie!” beomgyu seemed way more enthusiastic than everyone else.

of course, ellie’s heart rate quickens at the weird observation.

the team name choosing was absolutely wonderful.

beomgyu came up with ‘brave dummies’ and for some reason everyone went with it, not that ellie was complaining because it was REALLY funny.

this episode required a lot more physical activity than the last one, which she had no problem with.

she led her team to victory during the first game with the tubes and ping pong ball.

got picked up by beomgyu hai!

wait wait wait...let me set the scene for you guys because...it was something else.

after winning the race, the 7 teammates all did a group hug, ellie being shoved into the middle while the rest ferociously chanted “ellie! ellie! ellie!”

kinda scary...looked like a cult from the outside lol.

she was so confused.

all of a sudden, a figure picks her up from behind and starts cheering very loudly.

she looked absolutely terrified because she had no. clue. what. was. going. on.

and when this poor girl turns her head back to look at the person carrying her, all bodily organs in her shut down.

her eyes went blurry and suddenly she couldn’t see, her kidneys failed, her limbs detached from her body...it was insane.

jay and sunoo, being the teasers they were, laughed at the look of the flustered girl.

it was...so much.

when beomgyu put her down, she felt her life flash before her eyes.

she still couldn’t believe what just happened, placing a hand on her forehead to see if she was sick??? for some reason.

she literally could NOT think straight after that.

the rest of the episode felt like a blur.

during the flag game, she failed oh so miserably...

“you ok?” jay teasingly asks her.

“leave me alone.” *cue her side eye*

“hehe.” (jay)

she felt so bad for doing so badly during the game, she kept apologizing :’).

“ellie! its ok! none of us did good :)” thank god for yeonjun.

she had to lay her head down onto ni-ki’s shoulders because she felt so defeated.

ni-ki responded by hugging her by the waist.

“don’t worry, i did horrible too.”

she hummed and pouted.

the screaming from the others made her feel a lot better.

“there’s that smile!” sunoo squeezes her cheeks.

the other team won, obviously.

she examined jungwon, he seemed like he was doing a lot better, seeing him enjoy himself was all the reassurance ellie needed.

oh good god...the next game...hahahaha.

it was...hai!

they had a piece of paper in which they had to fit all their teammates on, it was...intense.

she tried standing in the middle of jake and ni-ki, but was pulled by kim sunoo to stand in between him and beomgyu.

she froze up, god...can’t you just act normally ellie? (this was to herself btw ;) )

she tried not to think about the close proximity between her and beomgyu, instead giving her all into the game.

“ellie, it’s alright, step on my foot.” yeonjun tells her.

“are you sure?”

“yes of course.”

she cautiously steps on his foot, making sure not to put too much weight into it.

they got past a good amount of rounds, the last one is where they REALLY struggled.

“i have an idea!”

ellie announces while clapping her hands.

“i think if we put our feet in this pattern...”

she shows what she means by using her own feet as an example.

“it would save space...we can hold onto each other for balance like all the other rounds and our other foot can come up. the foot on the ground will serve as a stabilizer.”

“that’s SUCH a smart idea!” yeonjun smiles at her.

“thanks!”

jake couldn’t resist it...it came as an automatic reflex. he moves his hand around to squeeze her cheeks.

“miss smarty pants saves us yet again!” (jake)

she glares at him and hits his arm.

(there was a slight smile on her face though)

with ellie’s strategy, their team wins yet again!!!

they huddled into a group hug while the other team groaned in defeat.

“ellie should’ve joined our team!” soobin yells.

she giggles.

the final game was a big round of yut nori, which ellie still had NO CLUE how to play.

“do you know how to play?” beomgyu asks her.

“not really?”

“no worries, leave it to us!”

ellie blushes...yk...the usual.

ellie didn’t do much through out the game, following whatever the others told her to do.

by the end of it, you’d think she’d know how to play, right? wrong!

she still, to this day, doesn’t know how to play yut nori :))).

she was sad as the shooting ended, knowing that they probably won’t be able to shoot together with txt for a LONG while.

it was so very fun getting to hang out with her seniors, though beomgyu was a bit too much.

after they said their goodbyes on camera, it was time to say goodbye off camera.

soobin suggested that they make a gc together, to which everyone happily agreed to!

beomgyu asked ellie for her number, which she shouldn’t have though much about considering he was the one making the groupchat for them, but a girl can dream right?

after hugging everyone goodbye, her group moved back into their dressing room.

“i’m exhausted.” sunghoon mentions.

ellie’s eyes did feel heavy.

the 8 of them have been shooting all day and they could all probably agree that what they needed now was a nice long nap.

she moved over to where sunghoon was laying down and tapped the boy to ask him to scoot over so she could lay down as well.

the girl cuddled into sunghoons warmth.

“sooo, you and beomgyu, huh.”

“why? are you jealous?”

“maybe...but you know who is Very jealous right now? and who you should probably talk to bcs he’s definitely upset?”

her eyes widen, finally realizing.

“oh my god, i gotta go.”

she climbs out of sunghoon’s embrace.

“i was comfortable ellie!”

“yeah yeah!”

she runs out the dressing room, frantically searching for jungwon.

she accidentally bumps into beomgyu.

“woah there, where are you going???”

“i’m so sorry! uh- i have to go talk to jungwon about something, i can’t really stay for long...”

beomgyu nods his head and motions for her to go.

she finally finds jungwon at a vending machine, grabbing two drinks.

“yang!”

she finally reaches him and drops her body down to catch her breath.

“i’m so sorry.”

“about what?”

“sunghoon said you were upset with me about something...and i wan- (deep breath) i wanted you to know that no one will ever replace you or any (deep breath) any of the other members (deep breath).”

jungwon stays silent for a bit before chuckling at the sight of the girl’s state.

“oh ellie...” he gently makes her look up by her chin, “don’t worry about it, i knew you would never do that...i just got jealous seeing you blush at beomgyu so much...”

the last part was barely audible, but ellie understood.

she giggles, “i didn’t know mr. yang was the jealous type!”

he glares at her, “whatever.”

she smiles and hugs him by the neck.

“let’s go back, we’re heading home soon.”

ellie pulls jungwon by the hands.

“wait,” he fishes for the two drinks still left in the vending machine, “this is for you.”

it was strawberry milk, her favorite.

“thank you, kind sir.”

the two walked back hand in hand.

“is wonie feeling better~” heeseung teased.

jungwon mocks his face.

“time to head back!” their manager calls out.

“god i cannot wait to sleep.” ellie groans.

“ellie~ can i sleep next to you tonight?” ni-ki pleads with his eyes.

“why not sunoo?”

“he wanted to switch it up today, apparently.” sunoo clings his arms with ellie’s.

“i mean of course you can riki, just promise me you’ll actually sleep and not watch videos all night.” ellie stares at him.

“promise.”

she smiles and hooks her free arm around his.

“now...let’s go home.”

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aka-ashi-keiji · 4 years ago

Text

“i can’t hear you”

Bakugou Katsuki x best friend reader

soft angst

tw: screaming, emotional meltdown.

short fic about bakugou and you’re his childhood best friend, and you help him through dealing with his hearing loss. enjoy lovies.

*******************************************************

You woke up to the sound of your mother knocking on your door and yelling, “y/n wake up, you have training today with katsuki. i love that boy but i am not in the mood to deal with his explosive attitude over you being late .” You lived right next door to katsuki all your life and since your moms were best friends, you guys were best friends since you learned how to walk. Every saturday you guys would train from 8 AM to noon in his garage since it was basically a mini gym, and then after you both would head over to your house. You checked the time on your phone on the bedside table and it read 7:50. “SHIT MOM WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER” you yelled as you jumped out of bed and quickly found a black tank top and grey sweatpants to train in. You could hear your mom chuckling as she walked away from your door. You grabbed your headphones, phone, water bottle, and Nike’s before yelling a goodbye and dashing over to Katsuki’s front yard.

You knocked on his door four times so that his family knew it was you. You were halfway through slipping your shoes on when Mitsuki answered. She yawned and pulled you into a side hug. “Good morning y/n, you hungry?” She asked as she closed the door behind you guys and started towards the kitchen. “No thanks Mitsuki, I don’t like to train on a full stomach. My mom is making a huge lunch though, you guys are welcome to join us.” You said cheerfully, but kept your voice low since it was very early and you could tell Katsuki’s mom was still half asleep. She nodded and then whipped her head to face you wearing a look on her face as if she had just remembered something very important. “Kat has been very on edge lately and not very responsive this week.” She paused before starting again and turned her gaze to the floor, almost as if she didn’t want to talk. “I think it might have to do with his hearing. He won’t admit it, but I think his quirk is finally starting to affect him. Good thing we put him in those sign language classes as a precaution.” she laughed dryly and then turned back to look at you. “Just, take it easy him with the teasing today okay? and maybe try speaking a little louder. I’ll go see if he’s ready” and with that she gathered herself up the stairs and disappeared.

You thought silently as you waited, and all of a sudden it made sense. Lately at school bakugou has been yelling more than usual, and telling everyone to speak louder. Maybe he was yelling more to be able to hear himself? You didn’t know. Bakugou has been learning sign language since he was 7 years old as a precaution for this and has been regularly signing while he talks since he was 10. So, bakugou using his sign language all the time wasn’t uncommon, but maybe Mitsuki was right. You made a mental note not to say anything until you actually noticed a big change in your guys’ training. You waited patiently for about another 10 minutes before Katsuki finally came downstairs.

“Hey idiot, nice outfit.” Katsuki greeted you in his groggy morning voice, his hands signing his words lazily. You looked down at the tank top and sweatpants you were wearing and looked back to him, you both were wearing the same exact thing. “Morning pom pom” you greeted back as you gathered your things and started to head towards the garage. You turned around to see bakugou staring into nothing, so you called out. “Hey kat, you coming?” No response. You repeated yourself, but this time loud enough you were sure you woke his dad. He whipped his head towards you and nodded before following along. As you were walking down the hall, you turned to him and asked, “You okay?” while signing your words. Katsuki looked down at your hands and his cheeks started to dust with the lightest shade of pink. He huffed and his red eyes sparked as he just growled out a ‘yeah’ and walked ahead of you into the garage, starting to set up for your session. You yourself had picked up sign language at a young age because your dad was deaf because his quirk was being able to shoot sonic booms from his hands. you pressed the button to open the garage door and let some light in. You then walked over to the speakers and plugged your phone in as you hit play on your playlist specifically for training days. Bakugou stopped setting up the bench press station and yelled, “Can you turn it up? “ as he signed quickly, but then went back to putting the weights together. You turned back to the speaker only to be surprised since the volume was already almost at max capacity. You shook your head and turned the volume all the way up. This session should be interesting.

It was around 9:30 AM at this point and you and Kat had finished weights and went on a 2 mile run. You were currently sitting on the floor stretching your quads as the loud techno music boomed around you. You glanced over at katsuki who was stretching on the other side of the garage and he seemed to be in a whole other universe. You called out to him, but he didn’t do so much as flinch. You picked yourself up off the floor and slowly walked towards him. You called a few more times and still got nothing from him, so you decided to turn off the music. As soon as you did Katsuki’s head shot up and his eyes darted towards you. “What the hell was that for dipshit? We’re gonna start sparring soon, we need it.” He said/yelled at you while you sauntered over to him and took a seat about a foot away from his now steaming body. You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm before talking to katsuki, well you didn’t exactly talk with your voice, you were mostly signing. “Katsuki are you sure you’re okay? You’re not responding when I call out for you.” You waited for his response as his eyes stayed on your hands that were once moving. This time he answered, but for some reason he didn’t sign. “If I tell you, you can’t tell a single soul you hear me dumbass? Not even my parents. “ You nodded your head and gently reach over to squeeze his hand four times, your guys’ way of saying I promise. He then began to talk, and signed very aggressively as he did so, and what he said was enough to shatter you into a million pieces.

“I’ve been struggling in a way lately,” he started, “I tried to cover it up by just yelling all the time hoping people would just think it was my normal behavior. But, really it was so i could he hear myself.” Katsuki let out a long breath and you could see his hands slightly shaking. “It started out last week as just a slight ringing, but it got louder every damn day. But, this week the ringing got quieter, and eventually everything around me started to sound like I was underwater. “ He looked up at you and your breath hitched, tears rolled down katsuki’s face as he held eye contact. He shook out his hands and took another shakey breath before he began, “I- I can barely hear you y/n! And its so frusturating.” the volume of his voice was rising, and you could see the pain he was feeling through his eyes and the tears that were now dripping down to his shirt. “I can’t hear your fucking voice damnit! It’s the only one that doesn’t drive me up fucking walls. it terrifies me!” He was screaming at this point as his hands worked through the air to express his words. The tears came at a much quicker pace once he had stopped to breathe, and those tear turned into sobs as he curled in on himself. He tucked his knees to his chest and ducked his head into his arms as they wrapped around his legs. His shoulders and back shook as he cried, and for a moment you didn’t know what to do. You haven’t seen Katsuki cry since you both were 8 years old and he was playing with his quirk and accidently blasted your arm. He started crying as soon as he heard you wail in pain, and the lecture from his mother didn’t help in the slightest. You subconsciously reached up to rest your hand on the scar as you tried to think of what you could say to him.

Katsuki leveled his head and looked up at you, and slowly reached his hand out, still crying quietly. For a second you didn’t know what he meant, but it soon clicked in your head and you took his hand in yours. you looked at him with teary eyes and signed, “How can i help?” He untucked his legs from his chest and moved closer to you. Then, before you could even register what was happening, Katsuki had his arms around your waist with his head on your shoulder. You froze, it had been quite some time since either of you had needed a hug like this. once your shock had subsided, you brought your hands to rest on his upper back and rubbed soothingly. He began to cry again, which then led to sobs just like they had before. You began to talk, whispering variations of ‘I’m here’ and ‘You don’t have to be scared’, only to remember that he probably can’t hear you. Seeing katsuki as vulnerable as this broke your heart, and single tear fell from your face. Katsuki could feel your jaw muscles moving against the side of his face, so he knew you were talking, but he couldn’t hear you. “I- i- i- I can’t hear! I can’t hear you! Y/n I can’t hear you, fix it please, please I hate this so much!” He screamed into your shoulder which luckily muffled it enough to not draw any attention from the neighbors. He gripped onto your waist tighter as he breathed long and hard breaths. “I’m so scared. I’m terrified of losing you.” He whispered. This had confused you so you gently placed your hands on his shoulders and put a bit of distance between you guys so he could see you signing. “What do you mean you’re gonna lose me? I’m not going anywhere.” You said and waited for his response. He brought his trembling hands up to start signing and began, “I’m scared that if i can’t hear you, I won’t hear you calling me for help when you’re in danger. What kind of hero am I if i can’t even save my best friend?” You took one of his hands in yours and began to sign with your other. “You’re gonna be okay, We’re both gonna get you through this. I know you, and you don’t take shit from no one. And I know damn well you’re not gonna let a little hearing loss get in the way of beating deku.” He laughed slightly at the last statement, and seeing his small smile was like the world coming off of your shoulders. “We’ll take you to the doctor, they’ll help you.” He shook his head at that and his angry glowering returned. “It’s not anything to be embarrassed about. And I’m sure your parents would do anything to help you become the hero you want to be.” You finished your monologue and squeezed his hand four times, promising him you’re not going anywhere. He smiled down at his hand and then brought his other one up to sign, “I love you shithead” and you signed back, “Yeah I know, I love you too Kat”.

He began to stand up and Katsuki pulled you up with him. He immediately pulled you into the tightest bear hug possible. No one knew, but Katsuki was the biggest hugger, and it was your favorite thing about him. You released your arms from his waist and he released his hold around your shoulders. You took the sides on his face in your hands, and pointed to your lips as a signal to read your words. He nodded his head, and in a volume Katsuki couldn’t hear, you said, “I can hear you, I can hear you.”. He nodded and smiled the most genuine smile you’d seen out of him in years. “You ready?” he signed, and you answered “for what?”. He smirked and was quiet for a few seconds before shoving you to the side a little and running off towards your house. “Race you!” he yelled, “First one there, is your mom’s favorite you loser.” Kat called again. You smiled and shook your head as you sprinted off after him, remembering this is the Katsuki that will be the #1 hero someday.

***************************************🌸

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Steph!

Any chance you've got any fics where John and Sherlock come out publicly (an AU or just canon)? For some reason I just adORe the tension

Anyway, thanks for everything you do on your blog, it's hugely appreciated!

Hey Lovely!!

Ahhhh Hmm I thought I had a list for this but apparently not, oof.

Here’s what I can offer you with my tags in my bookmarks and MFL’s! Feel free to add some, y’all if you have any I missed!

COMING OUT

See also:

Homophobia / Sexuality / Pride || [John’s Sexuality]

John’s Friends Find Out About Sherlock

John’s Internalized Homophobia

Ex by Itsallfine (T, 1,248 w., 1 Ch. || Angsty Fluff, Love Confessions, Coming Out, Exes, First Kiss, Fake Relationship, Getting Outed) – One night, in the midst of their post-case high and on the cusp of something more, John and Sherlock run into John’s ex. His ex-boyfriend.

Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

MARKED FOR LATER

About Being Gay by A_Candle_For_Sherlock (G, 1,088 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Romantic Fluff, Older Rosie) – Rosie looks up from Sherlock’s picture book about poisonous plants, gives Sherlock a look and asks, 'Are you gay, Sherlock?' and Sherlock, without missing a beat, just says 'Yes,' and continues drinking his tea, and Rosie says 'Ah,' and goes back to her plant book, and John nearly doubles over in the corner.

A Regular not at all Terrifying-for-unknown-reasons Conversation by Dodoa (T, 5,506 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Unilock, Best Friends, Coming Out, Self-Discovery, Dialogue Heavy, Self Acceptance) – Sherlock is trying to work something out and goes to John for help. John might not have all the answers, but he's determined to help.

Still alive by LoLecter (M, 8,375 w., 1 Ch. || Teenlock AU || Trans!Sherlock, Suicide Attempt, Overdose, Friends to Lovers, Coming Out, Bisexual Character, Fluff, Transphobia, Asshole Parents, Big Brother Mycroft) – Sherlock has known he was transgender for a while now and he decides to come out to his parents, but they react badly and Sherlock end up trying to kill himself only to be saved by his best friend John who doesn't know anything about Sherlock being trans.

Isolated by CarmillaCarmine (G, 8,549, 6/7 Ch. || WiP || Quarantine From Virus, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Bi-Panic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Coming Out, Bathing/Washing, Bubble Bath, Kissing) – Due to an ongoing pandemic, John and Sherlock find themselves isolated at 221B.

Who I Really Am by agirlsname (T, 13,067 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE [1] or [2] || Post S4, Bisexuality, Coming Out, Grief/Mourning, POV John, Pining, Sexuality Crisis, Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending) – You don't tend to give up your heterosexual privilege without a fight.

Coming Out by LiviKate (M, 13,439 w., 5 Ch. || Teenlock, Homophobia, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Oral Sex, Drunk John, Bisexual John, Teen Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Reconciliation, Arguing) – John has had feelings for his best friend for a very long time. Feelings he knows will never be returned. When John goes out to drown his sorrows in booze and girls, he finds himself falling into bed with a man for the first time instead. John doesn't expect Sherlock to think much of it, as he had never cared either way about people's sexualities. But when Sherlock finds out, things go downhill quickly, leaving John confused and alone. Can the two friends come back together after such an explosive coming out? If they do, will it be like before? Or might it be so very, very different?

Straight Boy Pain by Glenmore (NR, 18,257 w., 10 Ch. || Coming Out, Pain, Romance, Birds, Sexuality) – Sherlock is in pain. Billy Kinkaid, the Camden garroter and best man Sherlock knows, diagnoses it. Ademar Silver, a male prostitute in south London, attempts to treat it. Lestrade, kindly Detective Inspector of New Scotland Yard, doesn’t notice it. Eventually, John Watson, healer and registered medical doctor, cures it. And a beautician called Penny paints Sherlock’s toenails.

The Lying Doctor by pagimag (E, 44,285 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Fix It, Hurt/Comfort, Past Alcohol/Drug Abuse, Anger Issues, Depressed John, Watson Siblings, Coming Out, Bi John, First Time, Dom/Sub Undertones, Parentlock, Internalized Homophobia, Past Child Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John's relationship is fragile after the events at Culverton Smith’s hospital. John struggles with guilt and anger issues. During a case he decides to visit his aunt, which leads to an unexpected development. He’s forced to reevaluate ingrained behaviours, confront long lasting issues and question how he leads his life.

In Bed by Ellipsical (E, 46,922 w., 12 Ch. || Autofellatio, Vibrators, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Liminal Identities, Christmas, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Fingering, Jealous John, Therapy, Flirting, Texting, Fluff, Sherlock’s Violin, Anal, Est. Rel., Semi-Public Sex, Harry Watson, Communication, Coming in Pants, Spitroasting, Double Penetration, Dirty Talk, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Acceptance, Happy Ending, PTSD John, Coping Mechanisms, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) – It’s almost Christmas, John thinks, and this, this is bullshit. The epilogue to Guilty Secrets. Part 2 of Guilty Secrets

NO! by Tildathings (M, 50,043 w., 36 Ch. || Homophobia, Bed Sharing, Military Uniforms, Past Abuse, Jealous John, Stalking, Violence, First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Pillow Talk, Coming Out, Sherlock’s Past, Shower, Cuddling, Grief and Sorrow, Hugs, Character Death) – Sherlock has been in a coma in over 8 months after he overdosed on the plane at TAB, during which time Mary and Rosie were killed by Vivian Norbury. This story starts 3 weeks after Sherlock has woken up. John is asking to move back to Baker Street.

What have you done? by Tildathings (M, 63,940+ w., 17/? Ch. || WiP || Interenalized Homophobia, John’s Family, Coming Out, Sherock/OMC, Hugging, Suicide, John Deduce’s, Nightmares, Love Confession, First Date, Bed Sharing, Psychiatry) – John have been invited by Sherlock on a pub night?! Sherlock said to him at Monday that Greg and Mike wanted him to come with them on a pub night. Sherlock is afraid that he would do something wrong socially left alone, so could John come with him? When John arrives at the pub Two Broken Hearts he sees Sherlock talking to a man.

A Change of Heart by SosoHolmesWatson (E, 65,436 w., 20 Ch. || Post-S4 / Canon Compliant, Jealous Sherlock, Past Abuse, Parentlock, Dev. Rel., Idiots in Love, Suicidal Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Mollstrade, Coming Out, Love Confessions, Big Brother Mycroft, John’s Childhood, POV Alternating, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Hand Jobs) – After all they have been through, after all the heartbreak and desolation, John and Sherlock want to make their way back to each other, still convinced that friendship is all that can exist between them. Will there be a change of heart? Part 1 of the The Pains of Growing series

Worst Kept Secrets by Sherlock1110 and sherlockian4evr (M, 61,515+w., 8/? Ch. || WiP || Engagement, Coming Out, Angst and Feels, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Fluff, Scars, Weddings, Honeymoon, Playing Pirates, Parasailing, Archaeology, Paintball, Swimming, Golf) – For the prompt: What if the thing Mycroft did to upset Mummy... was to come out? What if, as a teenager, Mycroft decided to tell his family that he is gay, and his parents disowned him for it? It's okay now, he runs the British Government, he IS the British Government, but there's still that tiny part of him that wants his parent's acceptance, especially now he's found the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Part 4 of the Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff series

Sacré Coeur by Mamaorion (M, 95,235 w., 27 Ch. || S4 Fix It Rewrite, First Kiss, UST / RST, Eventual Happy Ending, Coming Out, Holmes Family, Marriage Proposal, Husbands, Healing, Evil Mary, Beekeeping, Caretaker Sherlock, Mind Palace, Alzheimer’s Disease, Protective / Big Brother Mycroft, TD-12) – In this s4 fixit, John must piece together the gaps in his altered memory if he and Sherlock are to face the terror that has plagued Sherlock since childhood. As they untangle the web, seven years of hidden love ignite.

Full Court Press by MissDavis (E, 126,123 w. || College Basketball AU || Unilock, Masturbation, Homophobia, First Kiss / Time, Oral/Anal, Coming Out, Switchlock, Blowjobs) – Sherlock Holmes has accepted a scholarship to play basketball at the College of St. Bartholomew's. He expects to be their star player and turn the team's losing record around. He does not expect to fall in love with the team's captain, a certain scrappy point guard named John Watson. Or: Sherlock is the team's best shooter. John is the team's best ball-handler.

Nine and a Half Weeks by CumberCurlyGirl and Kameo (E, 175,094+ w., 35/? Ch. || WiP || American AU || Different First Meeting, Daddy Kink, Bottomlock, Anal Plug, Riding Crops, Spanking, Light Bondage, Anal/Oral, Aftercare, Posh John, Virgin Sherlock, Homophobia, Sugar Daddy John, Rimming, Coming in Pants, Light Dom/Sub, Past Sherlock / Victor, Light BDSM, Public Sex, John in a Kilt, Vibrators, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is about to graduate from high school in midwestern America. Despite his intelligence, his prospects are bleak due to poverty, an indifferent, alcoholic father and poor choices. One day, at work, he sells a riding crop to a handsome blonde Brit and his life is changed. He doesn't know what hit him - until he does. This is a story of a journey to love and self-acceptance and explores many themes along the way: drug abuse, grief, coming out, age difference, consent. Lots of sex but so much more.

Of Ice and Men by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 176,906 w., 20 Ch. || Olympics AU || Paralympics, Prosthesis, Disability, Established Relationship, Threesome - Johnlockstrade, Angst with Happy Ending, Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Asexuall Sherlock, Pilot John) – Greg wants Sherlock to win his first Olympic Gold medal. Sherlock wants John to win his first Olympic Gold medal. John wants Greg to come to bed wearing all four of his Olympic Gold medals, and you didn't really think this would be that terribly serious after reading that title, did you? Bundle up, it's a Winter Olympics OT3!

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #coming out #my fic recs #sexuality fics #mindless-octopus

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jawabear · 4 years ago

Note

Hi~ Can I request a fic? for season 3 Javier Peña. Maybe some soft Javi. With y/n being a colleague, but struggling to get back to work because of mental trauma. If that's ok with you.

Don’t leave (Javier Peña X Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Hey! Here’s another request for my sweetheart Javi. Thanks to anon for helping out a little more. However, I feel like this isn’t great? But I really hope you like it. Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, injury detail, mentions of blood, violence, tears, mental trauma, comfort

Summary: After a mission turns south and months of being off work, she has to face the reality of going back to work.

She didn’t know what came over her.

Everything moved in slow motion as one of the men lifted their gun and pointed it over at Javier. She wasn’t in control of her legs as she ran between them.

Her blood seemed to run cold when the gun went off. There was a ringing in her ear. She could hear another muffled gun shot and the muffled call of her name but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything other than fall to the ground.

“Fucking shit (Y/N)!” Javi yelled as he crawled over to her lifted her shaking torso into his lap. “Why the fuck did you do that, you idiot!” he scaled her. He pulled his radio from his belt and gave an order to call for an ambulance before he threw his radio to the ground.

She looked up at him with wide eyes full of fear. She was barely breathing and her lips were trembling. He looked down her body to her stomach that was flooding blood that was seeping into her blue shirt. “J-Javi..” she whimpered. Her voice was barely there though.

“The ambulance is on its way (Y/N). You’re going to be okay” he told her trying not to cry at the sight of her lying petrified in his arms. “You’re gonna be okay (Y/N)”

Javier didn’t move from her. He held her almost lovingly in his arms, gently stroking her hair as he whispered the same words to her over and over again, it got to the point where he was more convincing himself than her was convincing her. But she never responded to him. She just continued to stare at him with the same terrified eyes.

“Peña, la ambulancia está aquí” (Peña, the ambulance is here) a voice came over the discarded radio beside him.

He picked up the radio and put it back on his belt. “Hold on (Y/N)” he whispered to her. He slipped one arm under her knees and the other under her torso and carefully lifted her into his arms as he stood and walked as quickly as he could outside where the ambulance was waiting.

The paramedics raced over to him seeing the state that (Y/N) was in. He walked her over to the ambulance and placed her onto the bed on the inside. She gripped hold of him like her life depended on it, because it felt like it did. She felt that if she let go of him, that would be it for her. “Don’t leave” she whispered desperately.

“I won’t leave you (Y/N)” he told her as he managed to pry her arms from him “I’ll come see you. But you need to go right now”

“Javi..” he had to ignore her as he jumped out of the back of the ambulance. He took one last look at her, tears beginning the fall down her cheeks, either from pain or from the fact he was leaving her. He felt unbelievable guilt wash over him but he had to close the doors.

(Y/N) drew in a sharp breath as she splashed water over her face bringing her back into her equally painful reality. She looked at herself in her bathroom mirror and hated the sight. Seeing how her eyes were red and puffy for her uncontrollable tears of fear. Seeing dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. Well, peaceful sleep. The sleep she had been getting was plagued of the memory of the event or nightmarish versions of it. Although she still hadn’t come to terms with the fact it was a reality.

But the scar on her stomach was evidence enough.

Taking in a few deep breath, she turned off the tap stopping the water. She stood there for a moment longer, griping the sink in both hands as to try and ground herself. She was trying to brace herself for today.

She knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She would most likely suffer for the whole day. But she had to go back at some point, and if she didn’t now, then she never would.

(Y/N) let out a slow breath and pushed herself off the sink and slowly made her way out of her bathroom. She now face a new challenge; getting dressed. She already had her clothes laid out on her bed, but she didn’t quiet know how to go about it. If she were in any other state, it would be simple. But the injury to her stomach made it all the more difficult.

It had been six months almost to the day since it happened. She had been at home for those six months, bored out of her mind and in incredible pain. She spent most of her day in bed for it was too much to move. Only getting up to use the bathroom, get a drink or make some food. But even doing that let her in excruciating pain and short of breath.

The highlight of her week would be when Javier would come round to visit her, to check on her. He always brought over some ice cream because it was easy to eat, plus she loved it. But since he had been delving deeper and deeper into the Cali Cartel, he had been flying between Bogotá and Cali quite a lot so his visits became less and less frequent, leaving her all alone with her nightmares.

But she didn’t blame Javi for leaving her alone. He was doing his job and she wasn’t prepared to get in the way of that. She was convinced that if it wasn’t for him, she would be dead anyway. She was immensely thankful to have him as a friend.

(Y/N) was also thankful that the ambulance showed up when it did. Not just because it meant she got to the hospital quicker, but because she was a second away from confessing how much she loved him. She believed she was in the verge of death and didn’t want to go without telling him, but she knew if she did, she would have to live with the embarrassment that he did not feel the same. They were friends. Just friends.

Somehow she managed to get changed into her fresh clothes. Today she was returning to work. Ambassador Crosby had warned her against it saying she still needed time to rest both physically and mentally, Javi said this too but she couldn’t spend another minute at home on her own. She had to get back to work.

The journey from her apartment to her car took twice as long than it should have, and the journey from her car (in her car) to the embassy was just the same, but that was partly due to traffic.

When she finally made it to the embassy, she couldn’t bring herself to get out of her car. She sat and watched people walk in and out of the building. To them, everything was normal. But to (Y/N), having to walk back into the building was like walking into the jaws of death.

(Y/N) leant her head on the steering wheel and squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in shaky breaths as she tried to calm herself down and hype herself up for going back inside. “Come on (Y/N)” she whispered to herself “you got this far. Just a few more steps and you’ll be there”

She drew in a few more breaths before grabbing her bag and pulling herself out of her car. She took her time in walking to the embassy, those who were outside gave her looks as she walked past them but she tried her best to ignore them. But when she got inside it was no better. Everyone looked at her and whispered amongst themselves. She was the desk agent that got shot. Thats what she was known as now. Not the smiley, happy, caring agent she was before. She was the one who got shot.

To get to her own office she had to walk past Javi’s. She looked into it and saw it was empty. She also noticed that Van Ness and Feistl’s desks were empty too, meaning they were all out scoping for leads in the Cali cartel, most likely in Cali.

Finally she got to her office and saw a pile of papers on her desk. At least she would have something to distract her. At the top of the pile was a note from the Ambassador welcoming her back and telling her to take it easy.

She sat down in her chair and let out a sigh as she examined the stack of files she had been left to deal with. She grabbed a pen and the top file and began getting to work trying to focus only on the paper rather than the nightmarish visions at the back of her mind crawling closer and deeper into her.

It can’t have been any more than ten minutes before she got a sharp pain in her stomach causing her to stop and sit back in her chair. She was overcome by sudden frustration at the fact that she couldn’t even do her work.

“What are you doing back?” Came a voice form the door way. She looked up and saw Javi standing there.

“Working” she mumbled picking up her pen again.

“Clearly you’re in a fit state to be working” he said.

“I cleared it with Crosby”

“And he told you to take another few weeks off” Javi stepped into her office and closed the door before taking the chair opposite her and crossing one leg over the other “like I did. Why didn’t you listen?”

“You can’t say that” she said with a slight smile “you didn’t listen to me. You remember when we were still in training and you literally shattered your leg? I told you to rest but you came back way too soon”

“That was different (Y/N)” he told her “that was my own fault”

“And so was this” she told him “I’m the one who jumped in front of the bullet after all...”

There was a heavy silence over the two of them as she just stared at the piece of paper on her desk. There were so many thing Javier wanted to say to her. So many things he could’ve said to break the silence but he was scare the open his mouth. Scared that everything he wanted to say would just tumble out of his mouth in a mess that she couldn’t understand and he’d embarrass himself in front of her. But it was selfish of him to be thinking about his own stupid problems when the woman he loved took a bullet for him. But there was one question that was at the forefront of his mind.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched her as she dropped her pen again and her bottom lip trembled. She brought her hand to her forehead and turned her head from him slightly.

(Y/N) drew in a sharp breath before she started to cry quietly. She didn’t want him to see but there was nothing that could stop him considering he was sat right in front of her. Javier stood from his chair and pulled it round to her so he was sat beside her. He rested his hands on her thighs, rubbing them in a loving manner.

“I’m sorry Javi” she sobbed into her hands “I’m so sorry”

“Hey,” he said softly as he reached out to grab her hands to pulled them from her face making her look at him. His heart sank when he saw her bloodshot, watery eyes. A similar broken look in her as to when it happened. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for” he said rubbing the back of her hands with his thumbs.

“I was an idiot...” she sniffed.

“Yeah, you were” he agreed with a nod making her laugh slightly. “But I would’ve done the same for you” he told her quietly.

“Javi..”

“I’m serious (Y/N). Had it been the other way round, I would’ve taken a bullet for you”

“I wouldn’t want you to do that for me”

“And I didn’t want you to do it for me” he said “and...I’ve never been more scared in my life” he paused for a moment. His grip on her hands tightening as he swallowed thickly trying not to cry himself. “The thought of loosing you...I couldn’t do this without you (Y/N). I couldn’t live in a world without you. You mean more to me than you will ever know...”

He saw tears fall to her hands and heard her drew in shaky breaths. He moved further to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She gripped his suit jacket and sobbed into his shirt. “I’m so sorry Javier. I don’t want to live without you”

“You won’t (Y/N). I’m going to help you get through this. You will get through this” he told her placing a soft kiss to her hair “I’m not going to leave you. Not this time”

04/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal #angst #fluff #fanfic

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laineystein · 3 years ago

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“This is new.”

The Boy™️ and I went out for his birthday on Thursday night. His favorite restaurant happens to be close to where we both grew up so we drove through the same neighborhoods that raised us - streets we walked to get to school or back and forth from the houses we grew up in. Of course, we ran into three separate people we knew. This seems to be a trend lately. It’s like our past, every little detail we’ve been so good at keeping hidden, keeps rearing its head, demanding to be dealt with. One of the people we ran into was a teacher we both had in yeshiva and they commented “oh, this is new!” And we both smiled and laughed and wished them a good shabbat. We didn’t talk about it then but we spent Shabbos together – alone – and we spent most of the night unpacking all of it.

This wasn’t the first time we’d heard it. It’s all anyone seems to say lately. When I had a ride to the airport at 4am and my mother strong-armed me into admitting who it was she said “oh, that’s new”. When his Modox parents were a bit passive-agressive toward me earlier in the summer because suddenly I was *everywhere*, I finally got his mother to admit that she worried about our relationship simply because it “came out of nowhere”…because “it’s new” and a lot of our “decisions seem impulsive.”

No. This isn’t new. We’re not new. Our relationship is 15 years old. This has been a thing - many things, actually - for a decade and a half. I have been in love with this man for half of my life but to the world, even the people we love the most, yes - this is new. And I can’t argue with them. We don’t. We have no idea how to handle this.

We were fifteen and sixteen. Simply put - being a teenager means being young and dumb and somehow being terrified and craving happiness in equal amounts. He was (is) my best friend’s brother and they’re extremely close. On top of that, he’s Modox and I wasn’t and am not. His family never treated me differently, even when other families did - especially early on at yeshiva when it was very clear that I was raised differently than most of my classmates. But I loved them and they loved me. They loved me as their daughter’s best friend. It didn’t make sense to explain that I was more than that with their son - especially because we didn’t know what that was.

We were teenagers! We were intense and fearless and manic and we were absolutely terrified of letting anyone down. We’re both the first born in our immigrant Jewish families. There has always been so much pressure on each of us to be the best - the smartest, the most hardworking. For him - the most devout. We both had to marry well and have big Jewish families. We were the product of generations of trauma - children and grandchildren of families that had consistently escaped persecution and now we were seemingly well adjusted teenagers in America, finally free to live the lives everyone who came before us fought so hard for. It was a lot of pressure, all the time. But together? No pressure. The things I struggled to tell his sister - how much I hated my yeshiva uniform, how marriage and children weren’t in the forefront of my mind yet…everything I couldn’t tell anyone else in the world, I told The Boy™️.

That’s where the name comes from - and those of you who used to follow my studyblr know I talked about him often. I never talked about him by name. His sister always thought I had someone in Israel that I had this big crush on. And I did. When he was in Israel with me I had a huge crush on him. But I loved him in Brooklyn too. I loved him when we traveled to France and Amsterdam and Italy. I spent four out of my five IDF civilians (time off from the military) with him and no one knew. We have lived so many lives together. We’ve experienced so many things, side by side, and no one had any clue. And we watched each other love other people and try to make it work with people that weren’t us. But ultimately he was the one who helped me through breakups and med school. He was the person that literally saved my life in 2020 when my shifts at the hospital during COVID had me so mentally and physically exhausted that I could barely get out of bed…literally. Then when things calmed down I realized, it didn’t matter what was going on in the world, he’s always been my biggest supporter and I cannot and will not live without him and the fact that we weren’t sharing this thing that made us both so undeniably happy just felt ridiculous and unfair.

But we didn’t know how to even explain everything so we kind of…didn’t? It was never “this is my best friend and we’re in love” it was “I’m going to Israel and he’s coming too”. We alternated Shabbos between his parents’ house and mine. All the while everyone is hesitant, almost nervous - this is new, this is new, this is new. It’s not new. But this is the first time we’re admitting how we feel and what we are to the people we love. He’s not just my friend’s brother. He’s not even just my best friend or my boyfriend. He’s the man I want to marry and have a family with. I get why our families are so confused. They have no idea all we’ve done and how so many of the things they celebrate in us - our jobs, our successes, our faith - is because of the other.

So we have to start being honest. They’ll never truly get it if they can’t see how deep it is, if they can’t acknowledge the history. But how do we explain it? We are who we are because once upon a time we were both really struggling with our faith. We thought we were terrible Jews because we didn’t want the things our parents wanted. I didn’t believe in tzniut. Some days he didn’t either. We were doing things we were told kids in yeshiva don’t do! We were having sex and smoking weed and going to bars in the city because we could. But it wasn’t about being a part of the goy world. We didn’t want that. We just wanted to be who we were in the Jewish world and we had no idea how to do that. For so long it felt like it was us against the world - Jewish and gentle. We didn’t fit in with either but we could be who we wanted to be, together, in this weird in-between. He’s safety. He always has been. When I have a thought and I know no one in the world will understand it, I know he’s the exception. We always felt like we were judged, even inadvertently by people who swore they were being open minded and supportive, but together that was never a worry. So how do we explain that?

We don’t. We won’t. We need to be honest about some things: about how far our friendship goes back, about the depth of it - then and now. Everyone else is free to make their own assumptions. They can draw their own conclusions or they can just learn to accept us as we are now. The weird part is that everyone has been much more accepting than we imagined - especially his sister. She loves our relationship so much, to the point that we feel bad for keeping it from her for so long. But we don’t know if we’d be who we are now if we hadn’t lived this other life together. We weren’t wrong. Having this one thing in life that is untouched by the world was magical. We still have days where we miss it, especially now as questions of marriage and children flood in. But we’ve agreed that we’ll be honest with our children. All of it.

I guess a lot of this for us wasn’t just about *us* but about who each of us are as people. We’ve always worn so many labels. We’re completely opposites but we have fundamental similarities. We both love being Jewish. We’re loud and proud, unapologetic Jews. But we weren’t always! And the secret nature of our relationship aside, that’s what’s the most difficult for us to acknowledge publicly - myself in particular. I get a lot of that - often from many of you. I am so so honored that where I am with my faith today, at 31, is something so many of you admire. I can’t even begin to explain to you how much that means to me. But I guess it’s important to note that this was a journey. I was a mess. I always loved being a Jew but for several years I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know that I had the power to write my own narrative and live my life as a Jew on my own terms. The strength and confidence you see now is because all of the bullshit I went through before. Even now I am constantly learning. Every day I become more and more secure in my role as a Jewish woman, now that I can define what that means for me.

And that’s all I want for any of you! Live your Jewish truth! We are all products of so much hardship. We really do deserve to be the best version of ourselves. We deserve happiness and security in our relationships, in our careers, in every aspect of life possible. And if you’re not there yet - if you wake up wondering where you fit into the Tribe, that’s okay! You will get there! Being a Jew is a super power!!! You just need to figure out how to be a Jew in a way that makes the most sense to you. There truly is no one way to be a Jew - no wrong way to be a Jew. Being a Jew, in any capacity, makes you an awesome Jew. I wish I had someone to tell me that but I didn’t. It took me many years to be where I am now. So for anyone who needs to hear it: you’re an awesome Jew and I’m so proud of you!

#blog-ish things #Jew things #the boy™️#personal #about me #this was kind of all over the place so if you read it...apologies but also thanks?#I tried to make sense but it's a mess because at one point in my life I was a mess and some days I'm still a mess AND THAT'S OKAY!#anyway. you're all wonderful. I hope you're enjoying your weekends!

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telaraneas · 3 years ago

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im still in the process of PROPERLY reading all of Detective Pony because dirk im sorry but i have adhd i cant sit through all of those words at once. its not even that the concepts are too advanced, its just that im p sure he deliberately goes out of his way to be as obtuse and pretentious as he possibly can be (which is pitch perfect characterization sndjej)

ive read it in chunks out of order by skimming and then going back and forth, which is almost definitely cheating but also the only way i can actually digest everything going on here. detective pony is a masterpiece on about 5 different levels, it captures a very specific type of metafiction silly-to-crushingly-serious rabbit hole that i have seen over and over and which i'm struck by and fascinated with each time, even the most shallow and un-self aware of these kinds of works fascinate me (...so yes including stuff like the overbloated disaster mess that are the nostalgia critic movies)

detective pony is just unironically very engaging tho no matter how deep it goes into embarrasing dialectics and struggles with the admission of responsibility about the things you create and about how the entire book IS an extension of his psyche no matter how much he frames it like a struggle against him. the whole thing reads like a microcosm of his whole mental state and especially the fact that as he says. he set out to make a birthday present for jane and ended up just making a whole thing thats about himself and his ego and his struggles with that ego and the terrifying fact that no matter how much he says hes ashamed of it and that no one should read it, he is STILL in the active process of creating it and putting his feelings out there and arguing with himself in the form of socratic dialogue and that, in the end, he DOES end up giving it to jane

and i cant stop thinking about how jane DID READ IT. like i fully 100% believe she read every word

dirk and jane have one of the most interesting relationships in homestuck i think because they honestly care about each other and can be honest with each other in a way they struggle to be with the rest of their friend group, but in a way that's BECAUSE of how emotionally detached they tend to be. like, dirk has his whole mass of issues, but jane's deal is that she tries to be very Nice and conscious of other people's feelings, but because she's, yknow, not a perfect human being, she doesn't ACTUALLY believe everything she says, and she doesn't say most of the things she thinks, because she doesn't want to hurt others and doesn't realize this, too, is a selfish impulse, maybe moreso than actually saying what she feels

i mean. jane was SO committed to only saying what she thought was the most socially nice and appropiate thing to say, that she blew her chance with jake in the dumbest way and then kept digging her hole into the depths of the earth akdnsknd and then she dug in her heels and kept being A Good Friend against her actual wishes until her passiveness turned to passive aggression and then blew up into ACTUAL AGRESSION

I think jane and dirk kind of have similar yet opposite problems in a way, where, like... dirk doesn't want to burden others with his feelings and so tries to hide behind a billion layers of detachment and masks (to the point jake spends the entire story up to entering sburb interacting with dirk without ever actually TALKING to him directly much to his frustration), but despite that stated goal, his feelings and authentic self STILL wind up as the most overtly everpresent fact of the friend group's lives, because moderation just escapes him, so it's like the faucet is at full blast of dirk all over everyone while he stares at it wondering why the fuck he's like this

and then there's jane who is like... she WANTS to connect with others. she WANTS to understand others and be understood in return. she wants to be a good friend and a presence in their lives that they find worthwile. so with her the faucet is closed completely, other than the inescapable droplets that make her support come across as transparently condescending or passive agressive when her heart just isn't in it. jane has SUCH massive trouble expressing her actual, genuine, unironic 100% from the heart Feelings And State Of Mind to other people, and yet she's so miserable when people don't automatically KNOW where she's at

so... i think dirk would write that whole thing, which is esentially a static version of AR in that it's an encapsulation of him that is very much authentically him including the parts of himself he hates the most and never wants anyone else to see, but yet he puts it out into the world ANYWAYS because he can't bring himself to ACTUALLY hide any of himself no matter how much he wants to

and jane would 1000% read the whole thing, from the goofy violent doodly beginnings to the philosophically self-destructive metafictional cathartic end, and she would read it and absorb it and gain a clearer understanding of her friend's issues and what weighs on him, and she would definitely cry while reading it and feel deeply for her friend's situation... and she wouldn't say anything about it

she wouldnt reach out to him like HEY UH ARE YOU OKAY THIS BOOK IS KIND OF UHH CONCERNING, which is ABSOLUTELY what roxy and jake would do... and in my opinion, that's probably WHY dirk went through with it and gave it to her after all that waffling back and forth. because he can't handle honest confrontation about his mental state, but on one level or another, he WANTS to be understood

so like, i think thats why jane and dirk's relationship is so interesting to me. they Understand each other and find comfort in that passive understanding. i think it's also part of why they both went steadily downhill when they... well they never fought over jake, because again these two idiots are too avoidant to have a direct confrontation about it, but they certainly let that whole situation drive a wedge between them which resulted in both of them feeling even more isolated despite roxy's desperate efforts to hold the entire disaster gang together

man.... i just think about the alpha kids a lot........

#i realized im talking about it like detective pony the fan creation is 100% canonically the full thing dirk wrote in homestuck #and frankly like. thats bc its such a perfect crystallization of his neuroses that i think it basically IS canon #even if it wasnt literally the exact same work with the same words it would absolutely go down the same route #homestuck #dirk strider #jane crocker #sushi original

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thesaltyoncologist · 4 years ago

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Trigger warning: suicide

This NEJM Perspective piece addresses an incredibly important problem during medical training. If you’re in medicine, take a minute to read this. And if you’re struggling yourself with mental health, especially during training, PLEASE feel free to reach out to me personally. We want to help. You are not alone in this. Click the keep reading link to view the article in its entirety.

My Intern - R.E. Leiter

Bobby hasn’t come in yet today,” one of my chief residents told me. “He isn’t picking up his phone or answering his pager. Could you go and check on him?”

I was in my final year of my internal medicine residency and was on a 6-week rotation as the assistant chief resident. In this role, I organized educational sessions for the residents and medical students and helped with administrative tasks. Most important, I learned how to support other residents and respond to their needs, which is what much of my job as chief resident would entail the next year.

Bobby was an intern in our program, and he and I had worked on a team together in early July. Bobby became my intern, and I was his senior resident. It was a role I cherished, and I tried to teach him all I could about caring for multiple sick patients simultaneously and navigating the systems, personalities, and politics of a large Manhattan hospital. We stayed late as we struggled to place an ultrasound-guided IV into the arm of a patient whose veins were shot from years of dialysis. Perched side by side on a windowsill, we nearly missed morning rounds as we listened to a dying patient recount his journey from India to the United States. By the end of our long, busy month together, I was proud of the doctor Bobby had already become.

Bobby lived in a building across the street from the hospital. New York prices being what they are, most teaching hospitals provide their residents with subsidized housing in the neighborhood. It’s a strange, almost dormlike environment, with residents working and living together in close quarters.

It was a cloudless yet cool August day when one of the other chief residents and I stepped out the side door of the hospital. When Bobby didn’t answer our knock, we explained the situation to the building’s staff and they sent a maintenance worker back up with us. We soon discovered the incomprehensible reality: Bobby had jumped out his window. The usual din of the Manhattan street below was eerily quiet. Cecil’s Internal Medicine lay open on his tiny kitchen table, the pages gently flapping in the breeze from the open window.

Somehow, we ended up in the emergency department and witnessed a compassionate but ultimately hopeless resuscitation attempt. While our program director broke the news to the other residents, we returned to the apartment and gave our statements to the police.

The sudden death of a colleague would shake any workplace; in a medical training program where the boundary between the personal and the professional blurred into near nonexistence, its effect was seismic. When Bobby died, we asked the same questions of ourselves that others do when a close friend dies by suicide: What could we have done to prevent it? What had we missed? But we also had a different set of questions: Had something happened to our colleague in the hospital the night before he died? We knew he had been on a particularly brutal rotation. Had he made a mistake? Our uncertainty precipitated the fear that we could be next.

A few days after Bobby died, my program director, one of the chiefs, and I flew to his small, Midwestern hometown to represent the residency program at his visitation. As I gave my condolences to Bobby’s sister, she enveloped me in an unexpected hug. “Bobby told me you were the perfect resident; he wanted to be just like you.” Though she meant it as high praise, her comment left me rattled. I couldn’t escape thoughts that my expectations were too high or that I should have picked up on something wrong while I was working so closely with him.

Residency leaves little time for self-reflection, though, and even less time for personal grief. The wards were as full as ever, and our patients and their families needed care. Because there was no one to replace us, we went back to work and processed the loss as well as we could. In the days and weeks that followed Bobby’s death, the program directors, chief residents, and I worked to rearrange staffing, but the hospital’s needs limited the changes we could make. Even when we did have flexibility, we nonetheless made scheduling mistakes as we tried to triage which residents and teams required the most support. We could all adapt to one or two residents taking time off for family, health, or personal reasons, but managing our collective trauma was entirely different, and our blind spots added to everyone’s emotional and physical exhaustion.

I threw myself deeper and deeper into my job, hoping that working to heal my patients’ suffering would shield me from my own. I kept my head down on my way into the hospital each morning, lest I catch a glimpse of Bobby’s window. Predictably, this strategy was unsustainable. Evaluating a new patient in the ED, I found myself in the same corner where I had watched my colleagues work on Bobby. I couldn’t muster the wherewithal to inhabit my role as a physician while also containing my terrifying memories. After rounds, I sobbed in my chief resident’s office. I saw Bobby’s death as a sign of my failure. I had failed as a resident. I had failed as a teacher. Bobby was my intern and I had failed him. I was terrified of working with another intern, let alone of serving as a chief to nearly 150 of them, many of whom would struggle with their own mental illness.

Each year, approximately 300 physicians in the United States die by suicide.1 Medical students and residents are particularly at risk, facing new professional responsibilities with the highest possible stakes, deep uncertainty about their own abilities, constant sleep deprivation, and isolation from family and friends. When I had a few seconds in residency to scroll through my social media feeds, I would see pictures of a world from which I felt completely removed. On Saturday nights, other people my age discovered new bands and ate at trendy new restaurants; I fought with the electronic medical record to input orders for laxatives and stood in line to perform chest compressions on a dying mother of two young children. These stressors form a dangerous and potentially toxic mix, particularly for trainees with preexisting or emerging mental illness.

Thankfully, I received the psychiatric services I so desperately needed. I still have a scar, but it’s well healed. I wonder, though, how many residents in our program remained isolated in their suffering. Bobby wasn’t only my intern; he was our colleague and friend. In the aftermath of his death, how many of us should have been working at all?

Six years after he died, I no longer worry about having failed Bobby. But I do think the system of medical training failed him and continues to fail every trainee it puts in harm’s way. Although there will be no easy solutions to this crisis, we cannot accept the status quo. We are losing too many young physicians to suicide for the current system to remain morally defensible. Seeking to improve the lives of others shouldn’t cost our trainees their own.

If you or someone you know is having thoughts of suicide, a prevention hotline can help. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available 24 hours per day at 800-273-8255. During a crisis, people who are hard of hearing can call 800-799-4889.

Disclosure forms provided by the author are available at NEJM.org.

The intern’s name has been changed to protect the family’s privacy.

This article was published on March 13, 2021, at NEJM.org.

#medblr #nursblr #medical school #fellowship #residency #life outside the hospital #please let me know if this is behind a paywall and I’ll find a way to post it #mental health #suicide

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saeransboy · 3 years ago

Text

Hope

Pairing: Saeran Choi / Male CMC (Rowan)

Word Count: 4177

Warnings: Spoilers for the Secret Endings, hospitals

Notes: this is my piece for the @nostringsdetached zine!! i'm so happy that i got to participate, and that it got so much support. you can get the full zine bundle for free, as well as see my partner @mm12578's accompanying art for this piece, at this link.

you can also read this here on ao3!! i hope you enjoy!!

Saeran was unhappy.

Though not an uncommon feeling for the other man after all he'd been through, being in the hospital evoked the feeling strongly. He was constantly feeling judged, being watched, and it felt suffocating. His lack of choice was all too obvious now. If having most of the control he had over his own body being taken away wasn't enough, being forced to see people he didn't want to deal with was the final nail in his coffin.

It was overwhelming, upsetting, and made him want to disappear more than ever before. Trying to shut out the rest of the world wasn't an option, as it only forced its way in. Unless he had to answer whoever stopped by, Saeran ignored their questions and small talk, and eventually they gave up. Everyone had, except for that boy.

Rowan had been easy enough to lure to the apartment. He obviously hadn't trusted Saeran, and was just as uneasy around the RFA at first. However, he stayed to work as their party coordinator simply because he "had nothing better to do". Of course, with the tense situation that developed, he became far from bored. "Terrified" was a better descriptor.

The guilt Saeran felt over that was overwhelming. He'd been the one to choose Rowan, to lure him in, to try to kidnap him. He killed a man right in front of him. Had it not been for him, the party coordinator wouldn't have ever been dragged into this. Which made it all the more confusing when he came to visit alongside his brother.

The ex-hacker had been so shocked at his appearance, he remained silent only because he wasn't sure what to say. His guest left defeated, but he returned alone the next day, and the next. In fact, despite Saeran's silence, Rowan kept showing up, coming by to ramble at him about his day-to-day life and eventually to sit quietly and read. The silence was a lot more comfortable.

He let the silence remain til the other man came to his defense from a rude nurse. After that, he hesitantly reached out, reigniting his guest's desire to speak to him. The ex-hacker barely replied, and his guest enthusiastically continued on like it was normal. It started off shakily, and he would cut short any inquiries on his wellbeing and brushed off Rowan's attempts at comfort on bad days, but it went well.

They had made a lot of progress since then.

The last time Rowan was here, he held his hand. The other man had sensed his upset and reached to comfort him. Despite his first instinct to push him away, he accepted it without argument, not returning the favor or rejecting it. It felt so warm. When was the last time he got to feel another’s touch without being hurt or manipulated in the process? A brief image of his brother’s arms wrapping around him flashes in his mind, and he scowls.

Saeyoung. Saeran still wasn’t alright with him, not fully, but he was trying. As much as he hated it, he was jealous of his twin. Not just for his carefree lifestyle all these years or the friends that supported him so steadfastly, but for his relationship with Rowan. When he saw them, they were laughing and falling over each other or comforting one another. There was always some physical contact, and so much trust.

Rowan had confirmed that no, they weren’t together like he had assumed, but the bond they shared was perfectly sweet. He felt starved watching them. It was then, when he deciphered what that tension he felt when he saw them together was, that he faced his feelings for the brunette.

He was smitten. Completely, utterly, sickeningly smitten; when he realized his feelings, he had grown so nauseated it made his head spin. He wasn’t entirely sure he was in that deep, but only such a dramatic word could describe the heaviness with which it weighed on him. Someone like him wasn't meant for feelings like this.

The next time Rowan visited, Saeran blamed his suddenly more reserved behavior on the medicine he was being given. He wasn’t questioned, but the guilt of lying stung.

Saeran couldn't let himself feel this. It was inevitable that he would prove himself yet again to be a monster. He would hurt Rowan and it was eating him alive, but he'd rather let the feeling fester inside of him than cause the man any more pain or stress. It was easier said than done.

Nothing had filled that deep, all-encompassing void of guilt inside of him but the other man's visits. Hiis quips and words of comfort provided some relief. It was barely making a change, but the air still felt lighter around him. There was no tension, no distrust, and he never felt cornered.

He could just exist, never feeling pressured to do any more than that.

These awful feelings threw a wrench into that, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Just like every other thought and feeling, he wanted to push it down in the hopes of suffocating it until it was quiet or died. Or until it explodes and destroys everyone around you, a small voice in the back of his mind whispers. That was just as likely, and the thought terrified him. His hands clench in the thin sheets of the bed, trying to ground himself the best he can.

Downstairs, Rowan worries his bottom lip between his teeth, tapping his boot nervously against the ground as he waits for his security escort. He knows his anxiety comes off as impatience to the staff, giving him more room than everyone else as he leans against the wall, and he lets it stay that way. With the feelings swarming in his mind, he was sure that any invasion of his space might set him off.

After countless visits, coming to see Saeran during his recovery became a routine he enjoyed greatly. It wasn't always this nice; the first few times, he came with Saeyoung, but after being met with silence, he persuaded the hacker to let him come on his own. Nothing changed at first, the room being filled with an awkward silence as Rowan attempted one-sided conversations. The man refused to respond, rarely even offering him a glance. It frustrated him to no end; even after dropping his own guard, he hadn't gotten anywhere.

Eventually he gave up on trying to communicate, simply coming to sit in the corner and read. It had to be lonely, being stuck there, so he figured having another heartbeat in the room that wasn't poking or prodding him or interrogating him on his mental state might help. The tension in the air had quickly faded into something more peaceful, and some of Saeran's guard visibly slipped away. That was good enough for Rowan; as long as he wasn't actively being shut out, it was still progress.

Surprisingly, Saeran was the one to break the silence, though not without good reason. Much to their annoyance, a nurse interrupted their visitation, disturbing the peaceful co-existence they had with each other. She was everything Rowan hated to see: pushy, unsympathetic, and completely uncaring about his mental wellbeing.

It made his heart hurt, seeing the other man flinch when she slammed her clipboard down on his bedside table. Every word out of her mouth was ridicule, and though he knew the ex-hacker was used to such talk, that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

When she left with one last comment on how scrawny he still was, Rowan didn't hesitate to jump up from his seat. Following behind, he proceeded to chew her out. For her complete lack of experience, for her apathy, for taking out whatever the hell was wrong with her on Saeran. It wasn't long before his voice raised, but he was careful not to start screaming. The last thing he wanted was to upset the already stressed man more.

It didn't surprise Rowan that his friendly feelings grew into something stronger, but that didn't make the realization any less terrifying. For the first few days, he struggled to reel himself back in, trying to shove his feelings to the back of his mind so he could be there for the other man without guilt eating away at him. Being so friendly to him only felt like he was taking advantage of the man's barely earned trust.

It didn't last, as he noticed Saeran growing increasingly tense at his less emotional, more closed-off responses. With a quick explanation, claiming he'd not been feeling like himself -- not a complete lie, as such a deep feeling had knocked him off his feet -- and that he was sorry, he mended the situation and forced himself to swallow his guilt.

He could tell Saeran didn't fully believe him, but the man was obviously relieved to have things back to normal the next visit, when Rowan came in grinning. It earned him a small smile in return, the first he'd seen from the man.

Rowan is torn from his reminiscing by a security guard clearing her throat. She nods towards an open elevator. "Come on, tough guy. I'll drop you off." Though he bristles at the obviously mocking title, he doesn't argue, not wanting to get kicked out. Instead, he trails after her and steps in, trying to calm the fluttering that starts up in his chest at the thought of seeing the other man.

The ride up is tense, the brunette almost lunging forward when the doors slide open. "Thanks," he calls over his shoulder with a scowl. Though he always looked forward to the visits, he hated dealing with the staff. Setting his eyes on Saeran's door, he picks up the pace, hurrying down the hall as fast as he can despite his slight nervousness.

Before Saeran's thoughts can spiral anymore out of control, the all-too-familiar sound of chains clinking together sounds down the hall, the thoughts slipping from his mind to let him focus. It was definitely him; despite the noisiness of his entrance, the steps sounded hesitant, stumbling over themselves. The awkwardness always manages to make his heart feel a bit lighter, some of the dread that had been bubbling up inside of him slipping away.

As expected, the footsteps come towards his room, stopping just outside for a moment. There's a pause, his guest taking a moment for a deep breath, before the door is cautiously pushed open. Rowan jumps a bit upon seeing him, obviously not expecting Saeran to be sat up waiting for him. The surprised look on his face quickly fades into a soft smile, some of the tension he entered with easing from his shoulders.

The man always put up a tough exterior, Saeran knew, but he trusted him enough to let that down. Whether that was because he wanted mutual trust or because he was just plain stupid, the ex-hacker wasn't quite sure, but it never bothered him, and he never bought up the subject.

The brunette shuffles his way over to him without a word, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. Everything about him is a contradiction: the gentle look on his face combined with his dark and intentionally rough exterior, the way he avoided eye contact despite his obvious distaste at being seen as a pushover, how he still wandered to his side like a clueless puppy despite all Saeran had done, as if he wasn't dangerous.

That frustrated him most of all. He was trying so hard to protect everyone for once after he had planned to destroy their lives. It was like the male could see right through him, but never saw what Saeran wanted him to.

As usual, Rowan slouches forward, giving him that stupid grin that made his stomach flutter and twist up all at the same time. "Sorry I'm late, but I'm sure you're used to it now. Have you eaten yet? I kinda had to skip lunch, didn't have time." He trips over his words mid-sentence, distracted by the way that his heavy jacket slips off his shoulder.

Every visit started the same, his visitor pitifully trying to disguise his fretting as small talk and him offering up muttered responses. It was still progress from how they started, but Saeran always felt some guilt seeing how much effort the other man put into trying to talk to him. Wanting to change that the best he could, he tries speaking up some, clearing his throat. ''No. I don't like the food."

Contradictory to the pout he usually gives at that response, Rowan's eyes light up. "Great! Um. Not that you haven't eaten because the food sucks. Just... gimme a second." With that, he hops up from his seat, scurrying back to the door, nearly forgetting to put up his facade before motioning for a nurse.

Saeran can't decipher much from his position, only picking up on the word "privacy" and the dirty look the man shoots the nurse when she shakes her head. Only a few more words are exchanged before his expression brightens, and he whirls back around.

To his surprise, the unusually peppy man closes the door. That had never been allowed before, both for Saeran's safety and his visitor's. But Rowan was always rather convincing, not to mention stubborn, so it wasn't too shocking that he was the one earning him that right.

The act now fully slipped away again, Rowan practically trips over his feet moving back, rummaging through the pockets of his oversized jacket for something. Had it been anyone else, he might've been paranoid or distrusting, but he knew the man in front of him wasn't a threat in the slightest.

Once again stunning Saeran, the man pulls out ice cream -- an entire tub of it. Mint chocolate, he noted, feeling his heart skip a beat at the realization that he had remembered his favorite flavor. Outside food was also previously off-limits, and guessing from the way he had asked for privacy, it still was.

Once again, the man isn't making sense. Not only has he gone out of his way to visit daily, staying even on Saeran's worst days until he's either asked to leave or is forced out by the staff, now he's breaking rules and risking trouble for himself all for his sake. Why? He was a monster and a murderer, and he's being smuggled in gifts?

All of the kindness he was offered was foreign to him, and perhaps that was for the best. He didn't deserve any of it. All he deserves is to rot in this awful place, his nose constantly stinging from the scent of medicine and his eyes burning under the blindingly bright fluorescent light.

"...Saeran?" Broken out of his trance, he shakes his head, feeling a tinge of annoyance seeing the red that reflects off the bedpost in his peripheral. His natural color hadn't grown back much, but it was enough to put a scowl on his face. Not once did he want to let the white fade, wanting to have some semblance of separation from his brother, but he didn't have a choice. Not here, not anywhere.

Only Rowan ever offered him control, and even he himself was limited in what he could allow. It wasn't fair. That, too, made him grateful for his stubborn visitor. It was rare for him to give up when he had his mind set on something, and that gave Saeran a lot more freedom than he would have without him.

"I'm fine," he reassures. Rowan doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't pry, instead placing the tub on the sheets between them before digging in his pocket for a packet of utensils, unmistakably snagged from the hospital's cafeteria. Placing it in his resting hand, the man gives a paranoid glance back towards the door before grinning widely.

"I don't think they're onto me, so go ahead and eat up." Though he hesitates a moment, Saeran reaches out to pull the ice cream into his lap, popping the lid and taking a scoop. It's slightly melted as expected; it couldn't have made the trip by motorcycle all the way over here and through the wait downstairs totally unscathed. It's tasty nonetheless, a huge relief from the blandness of the food he had to eat here. Before long, he's digging in, feeling starved despite having the three meals a day rule enforced on him.

After a couple of minutes, he glances up at his guest, perplexed to find him entertaining himself by winding a loose thread of the sheets around his finger. It was rare that Rowan was this quiet for so long, and even stranger that he wasn't busying himself the same way that Saeran was. Sinking his spoon into the cold mint, he hums to get the other man's attention. Immediately his eyes are on him, deep blue piercing into him and making him melt and tense up all at the same time.

"What are you doing?" He asks, eyes flitting between his face and the string half-wound around his finger. The other man glances away sheepishly, though he doesn't flinch at his blunt tone; yet another thing they were making progress on. Rowan pauses, searching for a good answer and sighing in defeat when he can't find one.

"...sitting here?" He answers quietly, giving Saeran an uncertain look. "I don't really have anything to do. I was already running late, so when I swung by the store, I just grabbed the ice cream and left."

"Didn't you say you didn't eat lunch?" The redhead questions with a raised brow. The silence lingering in the room tells him all he needs to know. Huffing, he shoves the tub towards him without a second thought, surprising the both of them. It was unusual for him to share anything, especially this, but he wasn't about to pull his foot back when he was already taking a step forward. "Go on. You'll make yourself sick if you don't."

Though he wouldn't admit it out loud -- he wasn't sure he could even if he really wanted to -- Saeran cared for the other man deeply. It wasn't just the budding feelings of affection. His worry for his wellbeing, though underlying, had lingered ever since the party coordinator had set foot in that apartment.

If he didn't care, he wouldn't have stopped him from stepping on the glass from the window. Of course he would've, the idiot, and back then he told himself it was because it'd be easier to transport him if he went uninjured. Now, the truth was obvious.

Reassured by his adamance, Rowan reaches out to take the tub. While keeping a close eye on Saeran's face to check for any signs that he might change his mind, he fails to notice how close their hands get, accidentally brushing their fingers together as he grabs it. The touch is minimal, lasting under a second, but it still startles them both. The brunette gasps, nearly dropping the ice cream as Saeran pulls back.

For a moment they're both silent, staring at each other with flushed cheeks and unreadable expressions. Saeran knows why he reacted that way, but… what about the other man? Was he afraid of him? He didn't look frightened, only embarrassed and a bit flustered. Though there was no reason for him to be flustered, right? Maybe he was just touch-repulsed. They had a lot in common, after all. It was obvious the party coordinator's mind was spiraling just as much as his, the panic in his eyes blindingly obvious.

Trying his best not to overthink and to diffuse the situation, Saeran grumbles and snatches up the spoon, getting another scoop and nudging it against the boy's lips. It smudges against his nose, making him blink in surprise. His fingers coming up to up to wipe away the small bit, he laughs, some of his nerves obviously soothed. Good, Saeran thinks; he can barely handle his own emotions, let alone someone else's.

Holding the spoon out like a threat, he stares blankly at him. "Take it. I'm not feeding you. And sit over here so you don't drop it; that's the last thing we need." He curls his legs in, giving the taller man more room.

The brunette sits on the edge of the bed and takes the spoon happily, fixing his attention on the ice cream as he… purposefully seeks out the chocolate chips, to the point where his spoonful is more chocolate than ice cream. Weird, but Saeran doesn't argue.

Some part of him finds it cute, and he shakes his head, desperately trying to swat the thought away. He had hoped that the feelings would fade, but they were blossoming into something far more dreadful with every visit. That wasn't Rowan's fault; it was his own for not keeping himself under control.

These feelings would have to die with him, he concludes, blinking rapidly to bring himself back. When those blue eyes turn upwards to glance at him, he knows he's been caught getting lost in his mind. Bracing himself for the obvious question, he accepts the tub pushed back to him, tensing when the other man speaks up just as he gets a mouthful.

"What's buggin' you?" Rowan asks, his brows furrowed with concern. Taking his time to let the ice cream melt in his mouth, Saeran answers with a shrug. Remembering his earlier attempt to be more open, he sighs, nudging around a chocolate chip as he tries to think of a good way to put his thoughts into words without exposing his feelings.

"...Is it okay for me to feel things?" It's a clumsy question, and he mentally kicks himself for a multitude of reasons: for how stupid he sounds, for burdening the other man when he'd already been through so much because of him, for the way he's just now noticed his hands shaking. But none of this seems to bother Rowan, who smiles gently and nods.

"It is. I promise." Saeran jumps when Rowan's hand seeks out his, giving it a light, comforting squeeze. He seems oblivious to his own actions, getting lost in thoughts of his own. "It feels… wrong, right? Like anything that isn't terrible isn't for you, and that you're meant to be miserable in silence. It's lonely."

The hand resting on his presses down slightly, and despite the conflicting feelings whirling in his mind, Saeran moves his hand, entwining their pinkies together. He isn't sure what feelings the other man is hiding, but it makes some part of his heart hurt knowing that he's suffering too.

"I've felt lonely a lot," He continues, staring out the window with a solemn expression. It's quiet for a while, Rowan staring at the clouds and Saeran staring at him. Finally, a soft smile tugs at the brunette's lips, and he turns his attention back to him. "I won't let you be lonely too. Not anymore. Okay?"

Saeran's face feels warmer, but he doesn't let himself turn away, fixing his eyes on one of the freckles dotting the other man's cheeks as he hums an acknowledgement and squeezes his hand. Only now does Rowan notice the way their pinkies are curled around each other, but before he can pull back, Saeran tightens his grip. Not enough to trap him, but enough to get across his message. He can't bring himself to say it out loud, but all he wants is for the other man to stay.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan's eyes are swimming with something he doesn't know how to define. It's sweet, warm, making him feel melted on the inside despite his uncertain exterior. As much as he hates being stared at, he isn't sure he wants the other man to look away. The ice cream was next to them, slowly melting in its container; at any point Rowan could remember and turn his attention away.

As if reading his mind, he doesn't. Instead he curls his knees up to his chest, gazing at him with all the affection in the world. It makes Saeran's mind wander, but for once, the thoughts are welcome. Being cared about like this… it makes him feel like maybe he isn't destined to die alone and unloved as he feared.

"Thank you," his visitor says, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll stay right here with you, as long as you'll have me."

"I will," Saeran manages. "You'll come around regardless."

"But do you mind?"

"...No." The corners of his lips twitch up into a weak smile. It's obvious he's unused to the expression, but he isn't thinking about how he might look strange. Around Rowan, his heart feels lighter.

Falling into a comfortable silence, the redhead watches the clouds through the slightly foggy hospital window, feeling the other man's eyes on him, admiring him. He isn't quite sure what it means, but allowing his feelings to linger, Saeran lets himself hope.

#mystic messenger #mysme #nsdzine #saeran choi #se saeran #rowan carmody #cmc #and nowww my personal sorting links #my writing #saefluff #saehurtcomfort

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