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v3nusaphr0d1t3 · 3 years

Text

you set my soul on fire

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: explicit content warning: shameless porn, breeding, heat cycle shit, cursing, degradation reader has a bunny quirk and recieves assistance from their two almost-boyfriends dabi n hawks

you couldn’t believe that this was happening.

you knew, of course, exactly what was going on. and you knew the reason why. and still, it surprised you to know that you were about to go into heat.

this was something that usually happened sporadically throughout the year, but you knew it could be triggered by specific stimulus.

like the two men you had been seeing.

it started with a sudden uptake of symptoms, like your body being more sensitive (especially your non-human parts, you had to sleep on your stomach even more than usual now to keep from rubbing on your tail at night), and your temperature rising slowly. you put the pieces together finally when you snapped at the poor mailman for being near your doorstep, like they had to do, for their job.

you weren’t particularly emotional out of heat, so this made clear to you what was happening.

but before you could really prep an arrangement or really do much, it was upon you. your body was hot, hot, hot. you couldn’t think straight, mind going into a bit of a frenzy as you lay in your bed. and as you realized where you were, your bunny brain (as you liked to not-so-fondly refer to it) decided that this was not the proper space for a heat. you were up and throwing your blankets off of your bed within the minute, stripping it down to the sheet and taking inventory of all of your supplies. you started laying them all back down, surrounding the edges of the bed in pillows (you had plenty just for these scenarios). to top it off, after you had made it safe and comfortable, you laid a few of your shirts into it and eventually went off into your apartment to find a different source of smell.

you knew that one of your boys— dabi— had left a shirt or something here, because you could faintly smell him and it was driving you a little bit crazy. as you rummaged through your living room, the smell got stronger, and with more and more fervor, you ripped your couch cushions off the couch, looked under it, looked behind it, until finally you heard a knock— putting an abrupt end to your frenzy. it still smelled like dabi, so you hoped and hoped that maybe you would get lucky enough to have the real thing in your nest tonight. still, you approached the door with caution, snatching it open to see your favorite zombie man, standing in the hallway of your apartment building. he didn’t have to worry about cameras here, the landlord couldn't afford to have them replaced after they were mysteriously broken around when dabi started coming around.

your knees shook as he looked you up and down with an indifferent expression, eyes looking further into your apartment to observe the mess you has just made in your feverish search. you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him, earning sharp inhale and a soft laugh from above as you nuzzled your way into his shoulder. your mind was going crazy as you inhaled deeply, feeling surrounded in the scent. dabi simply brought an arm around your waist, watching your fuzzy ears lower to your head in content and relaxation.

“hey, dollface, what’s with all the lovey-dovey shit? not complaining, but i saw you a couple days ago.” he murmured, rustling your hair with his free hand, eliciting an elated little clicking sound from you.

you didn’t speak, barely hearing him, too focused on rubbing your face into his coat. eventually, he just sighs softly and pushes you back into your apartment, closing the door behind him. you still hadn’t spoken, and he was a bit confused. he pushed you away gently, only for your foot to thump against your carpet. he laughed a bit at your furrowed brows, and the cute expression you donned. still, he had no answer.

“what’s goin’ on bunny?” he raised an eyebrow at your behaviour. usually, you talked too much. in the couple of months he had been in your life, he had never not once seen you act like this. it was a bit worrying, but he really didn’t want to the think about the implications of him being worried about you.

it took you a moment before you began to come to your senses again, the high of dabi’s presence wearing off slowly.

“hm?” you asked, shaking your head, ears popping back up as to signal that your brain was semi-back online.

“what’s up with you?” you were re-reminded of your surroundings, looking up to meet his eyes as another flare of heat ran through your torso at his neon blue gaze. your face heated up as the embarrassment kicked in, this momentary clarity more of a curse than a blessing.

“i—uh, shit. ok, so, it’s like— my quirk, y’know? like rabbits? and, y’know how rabbits—” you paused your stuttery ramblings, too embarrassed to explain the rest. you hoped and prayed that he would catch on, or something, but he didn’t.

“what? finish your sentence—” he was cut off by the dinging of your phone. he grabbed it before you could, sliding open the screen to see your texts with the other guy you had been fucking around with. dabi himself had been with him, so his face split in a wide grin as he saw the text that had popped up on the screen.

birdie: omw, 10 mins -3-

dabi chuckled as you grabbed the phone, immediately smiling as the heat took hold of your brain again, the prospect of both of them being in the same apartment, your apartment, your space, made your organs gooey.

“well, looks like we’ll have a visitor.” dabi murmured, grabbing at your waist as you sighed happily. your eyes were lidded and unfocused at you looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he backed you up to the wall opposite your door, pressing your lips together in a hungry kiss. it was bliss— the warmth you felt— as the kiss deepened nearly immediately. your stomach flipped as he pulled your thigh up to rest at his hip, other hand moving to fully surround your waist. he pressed his tongue along the seam of your lips, always just this side of too hot. it was lovely, opening to let him in eagerly as you ran your fingers up through his messy dyed hair. he pulled away for a moment.

“jump.” he ordered. it wasn’t a suggestion, so you did, hopping up to wrap your legs around his waist as he moved his way down to nip at your jawline. you could feel the rough staples against your skin. you rubbed your hips down against his crotch, earning a heavy pant against your ear from him, and a soft whine from yourself that you attempted to smother in his shoulder. he started to suck a dark hickey high up on your neck, impossible to hide. he had a habit for that, always so possessive. it turned you on like no other. though he was always a burner, keigo was always the biter. just the though of that got you even more excited, grinding down against the hardness in his pants with a new fervor.

and just as he went to bite along your collar bone, your front door opened. dabi had left it unlocked, and keigo had stumbled in to dabi pressing you against the wall.

“well well well, look at this show.” keigo grinned wide as he walked dabi turn his head to look at him.

“well, your boyfriend’s here.” dabi laughed softly as he murmured in your ear. you quickly derailed yourself from dabi’s arms to nearly tackle keigo, circling him once and wrapping your arms around him, rubbing your chin on his shoulder.

“hi baby.” keigo murmured, rubbing your ears, taken aback when you nearly folded against him at the sensation. you let out a chirp, making him laugh.

“ay, bird boy, you know what’s goin’ on with them?” dabi asked, gesturing to you, as you were face-first in keigo’s jacket.

“what’s up?” keigo asked as your ears lowered again in relaxation, letting out little purr-like clicks.

“they’re not really talkin’. i tried to make em’, no luck. i don’t even know if they’re hearin’ us.” he rubbed his neck.

you were on your own derailed thought train of brain goo. you grabbed keigo’s wrist, grabbing dabi’s as you passed him, and dragging them down your hallway. they simply just followed, both clearly confused. but once you hit your door and showed them the nest you had made, keigo’s eyes dilated and his breath sped up as he realized what was happening.

you had made a nest. you were all over them both. you were in heat.

and currently, you were looking at them for validation. honestly, it was a good nest. keigo had one at home, and the fact that you made a nest and showed them, despite the territorial nature of rabbits, showed your trust and even more showed your current level of horny.

“s’beautiful, baby.” he caught his breath and had his arms around you just like that, backing you up to fall into the nest. you looked gorgeous, spread out on the sheets. he had to get out of his clothes and make this happen or he thought he just might die. and with his hyperfocus, he failed to remember that dabi was still stood at the door, confused as all hell.

“hell, birdie, is this an animal quirk thing? should i go?” he asked, leant against your doorframe. everything in keigo’s territorial nature wanted him to say yes, wanted to take you then, wanted to prove a point, make you his, and your little whimper below him did not help, but as soon as he could clear up his bird brain he turned around to explain what was happening.

“it is an animal quirk thing, but i think they’d kill you if you left.” he laughed. “they’re in heat, you know what that is, right?” keigo hoped he had a clue so that he wouldn’t have to painstakingly explain it, wanting to save a bit of your dignity as you sat in the middle of your nest, eyes wide and glassy.

“yeah, i think i got a clue. its like a horny thing animals do, right?” dabi laughed softly, and keigo was relieved and also mortified for you.

“yeah. get over here.” keigo said, turning back to you. you immediately grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down with you into your nest. your brain was still goo, all you could really think about was the warmth of keigo against you. and soon, you felt another dip in the bed. without thinking, you let out a growl, pulling away to look around wildly. you registered dabi, and nearly jumped him as you pushed him back against your headboard. in a matter of seconds, you had yourself in his lap, rubbing down against his thigh with your head in the crook of his neck. he was completely shocked as you writhed, eventually brain catching up with him as he stared in awe at your figure against him, curves silhouetted in the streetlight through your window. he grabbed at your hips, centering you on his crotch and grinding up.

you immediately keened, back arching and leaning into him, your chests touching. you felt keigo approach from behind, letting out a little chirp as warning that your prey brain much appreciated before he touched you, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking, sensitivity shooting through your veins. you felt surrounded, but not scared as keigo pinned his arms around you, above dabi’s head, caging you in. you felt those teeth you adored nipping at the back of your neck, and you immediately pushed your hips out against him in submission on instinct. your back bowed, dropping to your elbows, putting you in line with dabi’s torso.

“ah, shit. bunny’s eager tonight, huh?” dabi murmured, reaching to pet at your sensitive ears, setting you alive again like a livewire. you moaned into his shirt, grinding back against keigo. you tugged at his shirt, pulling off your own and pulling at your other clothes as well. dabi tugged his shirt off, but before he could throw it somewhere off in the room, you took it from him, setting it next to him in his neck. you took keigo’s and did the same, his pupils dilating a considerable amount.

he leaned over you, whispering in your ear. “show off, baby. you know how to, don’t you? help him out and i’ll take care of you. i know you can do it, i know you do—” he cut off as you dropped yet again back to the position you were once in, on your knees and elbows, legs spread, but this time, your heat on full display. keigo wasted no time grabbing your thighs and licking a stripe over your hole, making you jump for a moment before pressing back into his face with a whine.

dabi, from above, was watching all of this as his breath ran shallow. he really liked this side of you, all eager and breathy and ready to show off? oh he loved it.

“i love when you act like a whore, baby, it’s such a pretty look on you.” dabi murmured as keigo got to work pressing into you with his fingers as he sucked on your clit. the words set you on fire, panting against his pants. you decided to get to work, unbuttoning his pants— pulling them and his boxers down and helping him shimmy them off— to pull out his sizeable cock. just the sight made you drool, and with no shame or pride to account for in your heat-brain, you bit your lip in excitement. you started sucking on the head, moaning around him as keigo hit a nice spot inside you. your tail was raised but dabi couldn’t help but reach to pet it. this made you whine softly, sinking his cock further into the wet heat of your mouth. usually, it would be a task for you to go all the way, but your entire body was relaxed, and with that, your throat almost barely constricted when dabi bucked up in surprise.

“god damn baby—” he groaned, biting his lip as his head fell back to hit the headboard. you continued working him as keigo worked you.

and speaking of it, he was doing a good fucking job. you were already so wet, and in addition to his saliva, it was dripping down your thighs. the sight made keigo growl, a noise that made you shiver and wiggle your hips just the slightest bit.

he tapped your thigh. “baby, where do ya keep your condoms?” the one day he didn’t bring his own.

you pulled off dabi with a lewd slurp, shaking your head. keigo grabbed your shoulders and pulled you up.

“words, baby, i need words.” he said softly.

it was a moment before your brain caught up to speed. “kei, i—” your face was on fire, as you leaned into his ear. “keigo, don’t. don’t— use one.” you finally forced out, and he realized what you were asking, and decided that he would pay for that mess if it went wrong, because the thought of cumming in you was one he literally could not pass up. his wings flared up.

“what, you want me to breed you, baby? fill you up?” he teased, words dripping with content and arousal as he rubbed your hips. “present yourself, convince me.” he murmured in your ear and pushed you back down, making eye contact with a confused and surprised dabi.

dabi honestly was just along for the ride and really really enjoying it. especially when he watched you push your ass into the air, back arched and chest laying on his legs. he always loved when keigo got like this, that predatory glint in his eyes. dabi had no doubt that whatever words he had just poured into your ear were pure and unfiltered filth.

it was really hot.

and as he felt his cock being engulfed in a warm heat yet again, he watched keigo line up with your cunt unwrapped. he was going to come inside. the thought of that sent warmth even further into dabi’s gut. and even more, he wanted sloppy seconds. he had a thing for it.

and as keigo plunged into you, the moan you let out on dabi’s dick had him pulling your head up by your hair so that he wouldn’t cum right there. he wanted his sloppy seconds, so for now, he grabbed your fluffy ears and pulled you into a kiss. that had you keening and clenching down on keigo, wetness rolling down your thighs. you thrusted back onto keigo, finally bottoming out with a shared groan. once dabi had come down from the edge, you returned to your work on his pierced cock, getting into a rhythm between the two men working you out for all you had.

“holy shit— you’re doin’ so good sweetheart. god, you’re so tight.” keigo was bent over you, pressing kisses to your shoulder blades and giving nips to your shoulders as he drilled into you, carving out your insides. your tail was rubbing between you two and all this sensitivity had you pulling off dabi’s cock to desperately pant into his hip bone.

“pretty bunny, doin’ us so good, such a whore.” dabi murmured as he played with your fuzzy ears yet again, and you went back to work to his excitement. you were nearing your end, and you could tell keigo was too by the way his breathing was absolutely ragged against your back. you couldn’t see, but his wings were spread out around you three, on instinct.

“gonna fill you up, baby—” he groaned as you clenched down yet again when dabi tugged at your ears yet again, “you want that? you want it?” you could only nod feverishly with a loud whine, returned to panting into dabi’s hipbone, putting yourself to work sucking a hickey into it that had dabi’s hips jutting up.

and as promised, keigo spilled into you. the sensation of warmth filling your gut, the thought of being bred— pushed you off the edge you had been stationary on for a while now, clenching down with your face contorted into a silent scream as you milked his cock. he fucked you through your and his own orgasm, only pulling out when your moans turned to sharp whimpers. he watched his own cum drip out of you, the sight riling him up and ruffling his feathers in excitement. but still, he had to tend you you.

you flopped down, going limp with dabi rubbing your back softly as you came down from your orgasm.

“are you good, baby? i’m gonna go get them some water.” he signalled to dabi, putting his boxers back on and taking off to your kitchen. he soon came back with three water bottles, poking you until you raised your head in curiosity and gulped one down, setting the now empty bottle away.

and as soon as that was over, the heat in your limbs came sprawling back with a vengeance, lighting you up just as it began the first time. your senses were even more heightened now as you writhed against dabi yet again.

“oh shit, you back? i call sloppy seconds.” dabi chuckled as he moved from his spot against the headboard and practically manhandled you into position. he didn’t wanna put you on your back, because he knew your tail was sensitive, so he raised you up to your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you with his head leaning on your shoulder. he lined himself up with your entrance as he felt keigo’s own cum drip out of you, you pressing back against him. he pushed in slowly, making you feel every little piece of metal as he set your body on edge.

you were slightly more coherent this time, enough for clear words, but still your heat-addled brain had robbed you of any shame you had. thats how, whenever dabi was full seated inside you with no movement, you started running your mouth.

“please— c’mon dabi, give it to me. i’ve- i’ve been good, ple—” a whimper as you felt him pull out slowly and then a pleasured yelp once he slammed back into you, setting into a brutal rhythm. his hands heated up with every little word, noise, or twitch of your tail. pretty soon you were whimpering loudly as you felt his fingertips get just a little bit too hot, burning your flesh and mixing pain into the brain-melting pleasure you were experiencing from the constant drag of him against your walls. keigo’s spend still dripping out of you, dabi smacked your ass ruthlessly, making you fall onto your elbows with a yelp. this also led you to make eye contact with keigo, who was currently staring at you with the most predatory look in his eye you’d ever seen. just that was enough to make you whimper, not to mention how he was palming himself from the head of the bed.

“you should cum on their face, kei—” dabi states from above, “show them who they belong to, or whatever.” he laughed softly, melting into a groan when you clamped down at the idea. he let go of your hips, nudging your thigh for you to move farther up the bed to reach keigo. “go on, help him out. get him off, i know you’re good at it, whore.” his words were harsh, but his tone was warm and gooey, deep in his throat. you clicked your tongue in happiness, crawling up to keigo to kiss him briefly. dabi positioned himself behind you again, slipping in and slamming into you without warning, hitting that spot, oh god—

you moaned into keigo’s mouth, breaking it to wrap your arm around his shoulder and reaching one down to help stroke him off. he was warm in your hand, and his breath was warm against your neck as he left more and more marks. dabi’s strokes became the rhythm that you used to get keigo off as well, eating up their noises like you would die without them.

your second orgasm of the night came to you quickly and unexpectedly, knocking you down to be face-level with keigo’s torso as you let out a loud gasp, clenching around dabi who still managed to slam into you. and he continued to do so, even when it began to work. the oversensitivity was sending your brain into overdrive, your legs shaking so much you could barely keep yourself up. your hand fell away from keigo’s cock and was instead just focused on keeping yourself upright,

“oh— dabi, please, hurts—” you murmured small little mantras that fell on deaf ears as he continued to fuck you, and you felt another pressure building.

“jesus— fuck, fuck, okay—” the pressure continued to build as you panted, and when it snapped, you whimpered loudly as you soaked the sheets, squirting and practically coating your own and dabi’s thighs.

dabi groaned loudly, trying to muffle it by biting his lip but failing as he neared his end. keigo worked his own cock as well, with your head moved to lay on his thigh, trying to catch your breath when each one was a whine from the oversensitivity that dabi was working you into. finally, dabi came, releasing inside you and fucking you through it with a moan as your burns on your hips only got worse. to tell the truth, you actually really liked it. they scarred over and looked kinda cool.

keigo came a few seconds later, painting your face as you stuck your tongue out to catch, putting on your last show. and then everything went still for a moment as everyone tried to catch their breath. you took a large gulp from one of the two remaining water bottles, then handing them to keigo and dabi. you were way more coherent enough, and what just happened hit you in stride. dabi went off to get a washcloth because your legs were practically jello.

“fuck, i’m gonna have to wash ALL of my fuckin sheets. kei, angel, you’re helping me with this.” you stated, chuckling softly with a raspy voice. you took the washcloth when dabi returned, wiping your face down and anything that had dripped down your legs. you were still leaking cum, though. your rabbit brain was very, very happy. but your human brain was kinda freaking out about it.

“dabi, can you go get a morning-after pill? i’ll make you breakfast tomorrow. i gotta take a shower, but you’re free to join me before you leave. i’m having momentary clarity, but know that this probably isn’t over. thank you both for helping me.” you pushed out in panicked breaths, standing up and finding a towel to use in the shower. you gave them both a soft kiss before limping your way into the bathroom (not without a cackle from dabi and a muffled chuckle from keigo).

as you step into the warm spray, you hear the front door shut and you hear the bathroom door open. keigo stepped into the shower with you.

“he’ll be back with the pill, and i put your sheets in the wash. now lemme wash your hair, sweetheart.” he murmured, and again, you melted.

#dabi #hawks #bnha hawks #bnha dabi #keigo takami #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x gn reader #dabi x gn reader #bnha x gn reader

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thevirgodoll · 4 years

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hi! i was wondering if you have any tips to stay organized and stay on task? i’ve been doing a short online course this year and have really struggled to ACTUALLY bring myself to do the work, as assignments and lessons are not under any time constraints i just don’t do it. i also have adhd so get bored or distracted easily. do you have any tips for me?

This is really close to me because I also have ADHD. I have both inattentive and hyperactive type. *As a result, this academic tip guide will be a guide for people with ADHD and not neurotypical people, without disability. There is a difference.*

I am doing online as well this semester.

1. I create a schedule. If I do not create a schedule, I will be unproductive the entire day. So, what will help you is to do things in orderly fashion.

For example, at 12p - I will do this assignment/watch this lecture. You have to dictate what time you’re doing everything. Then, you also have to block out technology distractions while you are working.

-> Even if you’ve gotten halfway through the day with no schedule, write down or block off times on your digital calendar for what you are going to do at each time. ADHD is easier to tackle if you break things down into smaller tasks.

*Pro tip that I almost forgot: before you do anything, wear your day clothes. Don’t wear pajamas. Actually getting dressed or even doing hair/makeup changes things.

2. Download the Forest app after you have created your schedule. I consistently recommend this because it works in increasing productivity. It allows you to set it for however long you’re doing this task, say 30 minutes.

-> Why?: It will block all apps on your phone for (insert time here) to plant a tree, and if you leave the app your “tree” will die. Eventually, the more sessions you do, the more points you will gain to plant different plants, and eventually plant real trees around the world.

3. Have a list (& a planner) as well. Not only is the schedule creating structure, but the list creates even more structure so you know what you need to get done for the day. It also helps you not fall victim to the classic symptom of forgetting. Each day, you should write down what you WANT to get done and create your own times to look at lecture and assignments. Have goals for the day.

For example: complete assignment 2.

If you do not have expectations with yourself before the day begins, your ADHD will kind of take over and do something else. I have structure to my day. I set a timer to wake up at the same time. I take my ADHD medicine 90 minutes before my final wake up time, and I do my morning routine once it kicks in. Having the same routine helps.

-> Focus on your goals. Don’t be super harsh about the times.

-> Don’t overwhelm with how many things on to do list. Again, break it up into small tasks. For example, one part being: Wash dishes or fold laundry. It makes it less overwhelming to your brain and gives you a choice of which task. Typical non ADHD people just tell you to prioritize tasks but that doesn’t work for us. Do it in a random order and it gets the job done.

4. TAKE BREAKS! The other side to this is making sure that you give yourself adequate breaks.

*For hyperfocus, wait til your hyperfocus has started to wear off. Use it to your advantage for peak productivity. It is no joke.*

-> The misconception is that some people with ADHD are lazy and as a result, some ADHDers won’t take breaks. You can take a break. Healthy, long breaks do more for you long term.

-> Have a timer set. For example, after a 45 minute session or an hour session, I will take a break to do another task that has nothing to do with studying, like laundry, eating a snack, or stretching. Then after that task is done, I will go back to studying.

5. Have a workspace. Only do work at this space. I do schoolwork at my living room table and it is perfect. I do not study in my room because that is my sanctuary for relaxation and rest, not productivity. Make an effort to make the workspace clean, with your supplies - laptop, notebooks, pens, etc - readily available.

-> Once I get to my workspace, everything for the morning is already done. I’ve done my morning routine, so all there is left to do is hydrate while I study.

6. Recognize if you have adequate energy to do the task. Sometimes, with ADHD you may neglect your needs. If you are not getting enough rest, here are some tips:

•Bed should be for rest only.

•Blackout curtains

•Lavender essential oil, I have a diffuser but you can also put it on your pillow

•Background noise: pick what you want, lo fi music, rain sounds, binaural beats, singing bowls

•If all else fails, ADHD is often comorbid with other illnesses, meaning you could have a form of depression causing insomnia for example. This should be considered if you are having long term issues and symptoms.

7. Don’t overdo it. We are not neurotypical. Executive dysfunction is real - meaning our brains actually shut down when it perceives a task to be mundane.

-> You do not have to fit everything into one schedule for the sake of being “productive”. Each day should be what you know you can do, and there are different days to tackle different goals.

-> When you feel like you cannot continue, which is literally a symptom of ADHD, sit still for a few minutes.

8. Have a “What I Did Today” List. Because of how ADHD actually makes us feel, we don’t realize how much work we have put in. ADHD actually can be explained easily, we have about 2 dopamine workers showing up to work while most people are at maximum capacity. We are working overtime to do our best, even on medicine. So, acknowledging what we did today is good and encouraging, or at least reflecting in a journal.

9. Play music. It’s recommended to play study music without words because with ADHD we will submerge ourselves into the playlist of nostalgic 90s R&B. I recommend lo fi hip hop on YouTube, video game instrumentals, classical music, or jazz instrumentals. Whatever gets you going just do it!

General ADHD tips:

•Rewrite lecture notes and type the lecture notes.

•Color code with bright colors and pretty drawings or calligraphy

•Instead of telling yourself “I need to take notes” which usually leads to procrastination say “Rewrite lecture notes and emphasize main points” ... this is useful in your to do list but in everyday goals

•Generally try to get your assignments done ahead of time if there is structure to certain courses, if not, again, stick to the schedule. If you slip one day off your schedule then don’t beat yourself up. Breathe!!!

•Side effect of most ADHD meds is that you’re not hungry so buy easy things to eat like muscle milk or yogurt and granola or smoothies so you can sustain yourself

•Get a dry erase board to show what you need to do for the day and put it on the fridge with command strips

•To avoid forgetting things, put them at a table near the door where you leave your apartment/dorm/house.

•Don’t overthink the time it takes to get ready, often that’s why ADHDers are late. Better to be super early than late though - have a routine set so you know how long each task takes - for example “I know a shower takes me 15 mins, washing my face takes 60 seconds and a few more including sunscreen/moisturizer, etc...”

•In that same grain, set timers for going to the bathroom, showering, etc just in case you one day hyperfocus and push yourself too far

•Open the blinds!!!!

•Clean your room and tidy up your space. A cluttered space impacts your mental health in a really negative way. Your space reflects your mental state at times as well, so check in with yourself. Have a specific day where you know you’re going to clean, but ADHD sometimes gives us bursts of cleaning so take advantage of that as well.

•Anytime your water bottle empties refill it. Have your water bottle or mason jar next to your workspace, and drink 5-10 gulps. Seriously. ADHD depends a lot on hydration, especially if you are on medicine which naturally dehydrates you. If you do not stay hydrated, you’ll get that massive headache mid day and crash sooner. A lot of times, lack of productivity can be due to not drinking enough water.

•If you don’t take medication, then sometimes you may notice you love coffee, and that’s because it’s a stimulant. Too much of anything is not good, but balance it with water. If you’re going to use coffee to kinda “medicate” then do it close to when you’re going to be productive.

•Setting yourself up to do a task rather than envisioning the overwhelming act of doing the entire action. “Okay, lets just get up and get the first step down, such as opening the laptop or wetting the toothbrush.” Baby steps.

•Take advantage of accommodations! Your college more than likely has an Office of Disability Services. Also, email your professors...they’re actually just as stressed as you about classes being online.

•Remember that you’re already trying as hard as you can, so don’t listen to the narrative of “try harder”, “you’re *r word*”, “you’re cheating by using medication”, “just do it,” “it’s easy,” “what’s so hard about it?” or “you’re lazy”. Anyone telling you that, even yourself, is wrong. And DO NOT allow anyone to be ableist, even yourself.

•Validate yourself. Don’t let anyone to do the “I experience that too”/“I know what you mean”/“we ALL have trouble with this!” and they don’t have ADHD. No. It’s our experience, it’s valid, and unlike anything on the planet. If you’re reading this and you don’t have ADHD - no, you do not experience any of the things in my next bullet point.

•Don’t be hard on yourself if you stumble along the way getting this right. ADHD completely changes your executive functioning.

We see the task, but our brain blocks it.

We have something marked down as “important” but our brain tosses it out in the “trash”.

We watch an entire episode of a show, but our brain ignored the entire thing. Our brain picks and chooses what is stimulating, our brain changes our interests.

We have sensory overload, we have no dopamine, we have bursts of curiosity that cannot be contained (often inconvenient) and if interrupted, our brains cannot take it.

People often discount how many things ADHD actually changes because it’s widely misunderstood. I want to take the time to acknowledge that ADHD, formerly known as simply ADD, has different types: primarily inattentive, primarily hyperactive-impulsive, or combined which is what I have. So it’s not “hyper” and “relatable”. It is also not a buzzword to use to describe things. I must put stereotypes and misrepresentations of ADHD to rest.

It impacts us emotionally as well, which most people don’t know... such as rejection dysphoria — extreme sensitivity to being criticized to where our brains self destruct. Our brains don’t regulate emotions well.

ADHDers - do not fall victim to how everyone else operates and call yourself a failure. We have to work twice as hard and the results actually come out brilliant especially with our determination and imaginative ideas that are also seen in autistic individuals, honorable mention!

There’s good days and bad days. There’s literal changes in thinking that other people do not experience. We all collectively know wouldn’t be who we are without ADHD, but we all recognize the challenges. However, it makes me happy to see messages like this so that I can make a difference and hopefully help one person with ADHD, especially of color, at a time stop being so hard on themselves. 💗

#answered #mental health #adhd #actuallyadhd #studyblr #save

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obutsuwrites · 4 years

Text

needy (brother!dabi x f!reader)

summary: Turquoise eyes bore down into you. "Put them down my pants." Chapped lips curled into an impish grin. Lopsided and showing a sliver of teeth. His pink tongue poked out, as if to imply it were a joke. xxx i did little editing n wrote this on my phone oops warnings: ball worship/play (maybe??), cum, handjob, incest, licking, smut, spit word count: 2,086 masterlist | tipjar | twitter | commission info | ask box is open taglist: @shigatomu @sadjealouswhore @tenaciousgothstudentauthor @kaccatus @proxy9301 @yanderewoods @the-originals-lover

The sky was void of stars. A black canvas you stared into, body shivering. Touya -- like any good older brother -- sat next to you. His leg was rubbing against yours. He felt incredibly warm despite the chill. You stared into your open palms. It was your fault Touya was stuck out here… with you. He was just being a good brother. He insisted. Wanting nothing more than comfort, you greedily complied. You hated these fights. Shouting matches between your parents seemed punctual during the holidays. Your father blamed the stress, your mother blamed him. You? You blamed their cursed union.

Your heart hurt at the thought of it; love that meant nothing. Touya tried to be reassuring. He claimed your folks still loved each other, it just wasn't the same as yours. Touya's love was extra special. Something so precious no one replicate it. You liked to think he had your best interests at heart, despite his rough exterior.

Touya smelled like cigarettes and obnoxious deodorant. You knew the strong scent was meant to hide his habits. Mother and father didn't know he smoked. Touya told you simply, "It's our little secret. Isn't it meant to be special?" You didn't know; secrets felt wrong to keep, but Touya only wanted the best for you. He told you all the time. You were his sweet little sister. His keeper. Being so close to him made your heart swell. Touya was nurturing towards you, if not babying you at times.

There is a comfortable silence between the two of you as Touya huffs down his cigarette.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, still staring into your hands. You felt useless like this. Touya had to be hurting, too. He just hid the ache for your sake. It was selfish. You looked up at Touya. His chiseled features were blessed even under streetlights. Sharp jawline, piercing eyes. A man far more handsome than any other. You wondered if wanting to kiss him was normal. Just a peck on the cheek; like when you were kids. He'd pepper you in sloppy kisses, cheeks stuffed with gushers. The sensation was obnoxious. His sugary drool mixed with the kisses, and dribbled down your face. Touya would point and claim you were dirty now -- so as any good brother-- you were treated to a hot bath.

Touya pulled you back into the wintery night, a lazy arm draped over your shoulders. "Don't worry about it, little sis. You're my favorite, ya know that, right?" Compliments from Touya weren't rare. His raspy voice brimmed with praise. Passing comments that cemented 1themselves in your mind -- like a root. You wanted nothing but make him proud. And yet, you let him down by being such a baby. The shouting had again forced you outside. Neither of you were dressed for such chilly misery. Touya clad in flannel pajama pants, torn hoodie. Black boots beat all to hell. His only complete jacket was draped over you. He didn't want you to catch a cold.

You flash him a smile, "You're my favorite, Touya. I love you!" You buried your face in his chest. Tiny arms wrapped around his lean frame. Despite his height, Touya was a teddy bear; always seeking your comfort. His displays were cute, but you sometimes wondered if they meant more. If he wanted you closer. You waved away the perversion, opting to take a sniff of Touya.

Harsh cigarettes and minty aftershave. A smell that reminded you of headpats and random touches. Touya couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself. He needed to touch some part of you, always. You didn't know anything else. If anything, his calloused hands felt like home. Secure.

"Like the smell?" Touya laughed. His chest vibrated against your head. A roar. The sensation was familiar. Touya's laugh was rhythmic. Something buried within it was almost hypnotizing. You could listen forever. His joy was practically infectious.

Your voice came out muffled, "Touya… you smell good." A lazy haze was in your voice. Being so close to Touya was intoxicating. Your older brother in your future was inevitable. An ending you looked forward to. Anticipated. His body was warm; your heater in the chill. Touya's lean muscles relaxed into you. He was enamored with the affection. Blind devotion to older brother Touya… Kinda hot.

He flinched at the thought and shrunk in your hold. Was it… These were fantasies? Visuals that haunted him during cuddle sessions and sleepovers. Any skin to skin. No matter how insignificant. He ached for you. Flashes of you naked, asking big brother Touya to cum in your cunt. Fill you up until you couldn't take anymore. Your face red and feverish underneath him.

You returned the perceived attention, and nuzzled into your favorite big brother.

"My hands are cold," you remarked. The very tip of your fingers dared to poke out, pricking the cold. The flesh was starting to ache. Your blood was so frigid it hurt. A river in the dead of winter. Barren. More ice than water.

Admiring eyes looked up at Touya. Intense and starry. Touya compared your eyes to a nebula; infinite and overflowing with sparkles. There was something electric in your eyes. Something Touya couldn't ignore. He tried to, like any good brother, you didn't believe in no. You hunted him down until you became attached to his hip. Your body was too much; your space was his space now. Touya once read it was trauma bonding -- survival for both of them. But Touya liked to think you liked him despite it. He'd envision you dating him. He was convinced you would if you weren't related, why else can he touch you? Some naughty piece of you was a degenerate… just like him.

Turquoise eyes bore down into you. "Put them down my pants." Chapped lips curled into an impish grin. Lopsided and showing a sliver of teeth. His pink tongue poked out, as if to imply it were a joke. But under the luminance of amber, Touya’s lean body was hard to ignore. Every breath came out with a shiver; muscles relaxed and contracted again under his tattered hoodie. He acted like the cold was a joke. Touya wanted to be the big brother you depended on -- your first.

Wide, innocent eyes looked up at him, your mouth slightly agape. You took his words at face value; Touya wouldn’t do anything wrong. Why would he? He was always protective, always looking out for you… always the one to sit outside with you, no matter how miserable the weather. Neither could you deny your curiosity. ‘Being that close with Touya…’

Your fingers lingered on the hem of pants. The material was plush. You hoped his thighs were as soft. Pillowy and welcoming and warm. He felt like home… He was home. Touya brought you comfort, security, and a certain joy you didn’t find with anyone else. Not even friends.

Your breath came out hot and ghosted over his neck, “Okay, Touya.” His name played on your vocal cords in a melody. It was a sound he wanted to hear forever. Courage was in your heart as a hand snaked under Touya’s pants. Only one, a test. You desired this closeness with him -- chest aching and pulse racing. Yet the act itself still carried an air of taboo. Neurons in the back of your skull fired off with judgement. You blissfully shoved away the thoughts and shoved another hand down his pants. His thighs were sturdy. Athletic. Blood slowly began to trickle back into numb fingertips. The familiar sensation of a sore heat.

Silence again fell. Touya stared off into the distance. An attempt to ignore how delicate your hands were. How good your hands would feel wrapped around him..

Touya adjusts himself. Your hands follow suit and rested ever closer to his crotch. You saw he wore plain black boxers. Thin material that forced you to hyperfocus on his bare thighs. Touya had noticed the crimson that flooded your cheeks. Like any good brother, he decided to catalog the memory. It was only fair to tease you later.

“Thanks, Touya.”

He makes a mistake and looks down. Your eyes are so big, so wanting. Touya can’t help himself.

Calloused hands eclipse yours. Touya is as cold as the wintery night. Frigid. Icy. He’s gentle and guides your hand to his bulge. You can feel the outline of his veins. His member is thick. Touya rubs your hands against it; a twitch shoots through his cock.

“You wanna touch it, little sis?” His eyes are bright in the night. Azul gems that twinkled and burned. His voice is gruff. Words laced with lust. The sound is unfamiliar, but you recognize the heaviness to it.

Tiny, curious hands sneak into Touya’s boxers. You try to learn his body; fingers grasping for any contact. Your fingers trace his veins, until interest bears too much, and you give a careful stroke. Touya shutters in response, “D-don’t stop.” He whimpers, something unheard of for your capable older brother. Touya sounds so vulnerable. A spark ignites in your stomach.

His hands grip wiry thighs as you gingerly work his cock. Touya tries to steady himself. Years were spent and counted with hope. Fantasies of your hands trailing down his body. Inexperienced fingers dwarfed by his cock. His day dreams usually involved you complimenting him -- insisting he was your favorite brother. Your favorite.

"Touya, can I see it?" You couldn't have asked anymore innocently. Your voice carried a quiet squeak to it. It was a familiar warmth. Embarrassment. You hadn't touched anyone like this before. Truthfully, Touya was the only person you wanted to touch. He carried comfort. Some concrete sense of home. Blood had returned to your fingers, the ache now gone.

Touya nods, black hair showing roots. He fit a redhead just as well, but the rugged man preferred sticking out. He wanted you to remember him. Touya craved to be your only thought. Your only desire. He noticed how loyal you were -- keeping little secrets and lying for him. Touya heard it once, but you told a lie for him. "No, Dad. The neighbor's were outside smoking. Touya sat with me again."

His keeper.

Innocent eyes widen; Touya's cock is unlike anything you've imagined seen. His cock was lengthy, veins thick and pulsing. Under yellow light and a starless sky, his head twitched. The sterling metal caught your eye.

"Touya..?"

Before you can make your sentence tangible, Touya glides your hand over his exposed cockhead, "Please." His eyes burn with need. Sweat glistens his cheeks. Touya looks at you like you're the moon; luminous and shining for him. You feel like his world in this moment as your fragile thumb strokes Touya's sensitive head. He squirms under you and occasionally pants a little too loud. Drool collects at the corner of his grin.

The sight of Touya inspires you. One hand wrapped around his length, pumping him, and the other works his now slick head. Pre-cum leaks down his cock and provides ample glide. A furnace begins in Touya's stomach -- the familiar sensation of an orgasm.

"St-stop, baby." The term makes your eyes glow, "Play with my balls." Roughly, he shoves your moist hand onto his balls. Intrigued, you give them an experimental kneed. In response, Touya grinds into you and coaxes out a shiver. Gently, you worked his balls. Massaging and caressing. Working his needy flesh.

Suddenly, Touya's nicotine breath is obvious in your face. Blue eyes drink you in before a pink tongue laps at your cheek. Touya is relentless. He slobbers you like a dog -- no regard for his spit nor your comfort. Saliva trails down your chin. You close an eye and continue to pump him. His tongue is squishy, hot, and wet on your cheek. The humidity of his breath contributes to your rosy gleam; cheeks red and moist. His need physically manifests. Greedy, narrow hips thrust into your palm. Hungry for contact.

"Don't stop. G-gonna cu-cum," his words fall out tangled and breathless. Being a good little sister, you quicken your pace. His cock pulses and a deep groan rumbles from his chest, the vibration heavy against you. Cum spurts from his pierced slit and onto your fingers. Syrupy and thick. It coats your hand and feels almost too warm.

You sit in silence while Touya tries to regulate his breathing. His calloused thumb rubs your heated cheeks. Flushed and wanting to please.

"You need a bath, little sister."

#dabi x reader #touya x reader #bnha #smut #mha

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lindsayrises · 3 years

Photo

Hey. It’s been a while. If we were having a conversation, I’d tell you...

The first picture isn’t new. It’s from Christmas, 2015. It’s one of my favorite pictures I’ve ever taken. I’ve been thinking a lot about New York lately. I’m 99% sure I’m not going there in March - for different reasons.

The second picture is my desk space in my basement. I have started and deleted several posts that included this picture. It feels like I’m sharing a private part of my life (home?). The rest of my basement might be a total disaster, but this spot? It’s become really special to me.

Christmas Day marked the 20th anniversary of my mom’s death. This is the first time I haven’t acknowledged her death anniversary on social media.

Christmas was good. We celebrate on Christmas Eve. We always do chili and chicken noodle soup (my mom’s recipes). This was a tradition even before she died.

The end of the quarter was...not great. In the last two weeks before break (we went up until Wed, Dec 22), I was back to working long days during the work week and then a few hours on Saturdays and Sundays. The amount of testing we do IN FIRST GRADE makes my blood boil.

On the first day of break, I woke up at a normal-ish time (maybe 6:00 or 6:30?). On the second and third days of break? I slept in until 10:00 a.m. I rarely sleep in. I guess I needed the rest.

There are lots of work things I want to have in place when we go back on Wed, Jan 5. I went in for a few hours on Monday. My dad was here and he helped. My therapist’s idea was to go in those last two days of break (next Mon & Tues). At first I was like, “Um, no, I don’t want to work right before going back. I’d rather work, then have break.” But she pointed out (and I 100% agree) that going in a few days this week would lead to me continuing to go in to get more done. So, I’ll go Monday and Tuesday. I’ll prioritize what absolutely has to get done, get as much done as I can, and call it good.

I’ve been having lots of hyperfocusing periods lately. It drives me crazy. I never (ok, hardly ever) hyperfocus on IMPORTANT shit. I feel embarrassed by how much time I’ve spent (wasted?) on unimportant things in the last month. I think that’s one reason why I procrastinate. I HATE the hyperfocus thing. Even when it’s on something important/worthwhile, I hate the feeling of not being able to stop until I do/fix just “one more thing.” When I procrastinate, I’m forced to do the most important things and just get it/them done.

My new washing machine was delivered mid-December. It’s SOOOOO nice to be able to do laundry without having to be downstairs to (literally) sit on the machine when it get’s too loud.

My hands are soooo dry. Last year was the first time they ever got really bad. This year is just as bad (if not worse). I THOUGHT I had found a great lotion. It’s called Gloves in a Bottle. It costs more than I’d usually spend on lotion. I noticed a significant improvement after using it just once. Since then, I’ve been unimpressed.

I think my neighbors (that I share a driveway with) are moving. I’m not sad about that.

Ramsey’s doing good. I nearly returned him to the cat shelter in the first weeks and months after getting him. I’m so glad I kept him...even though he can be a little shit.

I don’t really have any New Year’s resolutions this year. In the past few years I’ve picked a word of the year. I’m not sure if I’ll even do that this year.

tick,tick...Boom!/Lin-Manuel Miranda/Andrew Garfield...LOVE LOVE LOVE!

How are YOU? What’s new with YOU?

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heloflor · 4 years

Text

Me : “I don’t think I should write characters that are explicitly neurodivergent because I don’t know that much about neurodiversity and I never take the time to know more. If I were to make a character who happens to have neurodivergent traits and call them neurodivergent, I might get it wrong and I don’t want to give a fic with bad or stereotypical representation in it, it’s unfair for those who can and wish to identify with the character. So if I write about a character that the fandom sees as neurodivergent, I will simply try to write them close to their canon personality; and if they happen to have traits that people can identify, I’ll just let other people do their own headacanons around it without touching on the topic myself.”

Also me : “So :

- Vinnie Dakota absolutely adores animals. In the future, all animals are extinct, so in order to see animals, you either get a robot pet or you pay to have some time in a “place simulation” room and order it to simulate a field with holographic animals. Dakota learned about animals through books and often went to the simulation place or bough some stickers and other stuff from the rare places that still sold animal merch. He never got a robotic pet or never kept it for long because it’s too dull compared to a real animal, or should I say his thoughts of real animals.

- During his first mission, Dakota was ecstatic to see animals for the first time and, after the mission, spent a few hours looking at and petting the ones he could. In his house in the future, he has a room in which he displays animal-related stuff he got from his missions through time, like art or figurines or ornaments or even plushies etc. He might also sometimes take pictures of animals and put them with the souvenir he got from the same mission. He takes extra care of the stuff he has in this room and organizes it a certain way. He has the money to have a place with several rooms : as we see in “Picture Day”, once they got fired, Cavendish and Dakota had the money to go to Hawaii for an entire week and without knowing when and how they will get a new job, since Bob Block met them as they were about to leave for their vacation. Also Cavendish mentioned studying for 20 cycles, so this job doesn’t seem like a given. So being a time traveler seems to pay well.

- When he and Cavendish started dating (I headcanon them as starting to date 2 years after meeting a marrying 3 years later, so 5 years after meeting), everytime they went through a century they never or barely visited, Dakota would get a random souvenir, not always animal-related, along with a picture of either him, Cavendish or both of them. He puts these souvenirs and pictures in a different part of the room. The picture we see in their car in “Fungus Among Us” is from a mission in a place they visited before, but Dakota found the situation too funny to not take a picture.

- Every celebration (holidays, birthdays, dates important to them), Cavendish and Dakota would give each other gifts. Dakota always tries to find something related to Professor Time while Cavendish forces himself to break a few rules and go back in time without being ordered to so he can find something animal-related to Dakota. Dakota is always genuinely happy about these gifts, though he learned not to tease Cavendish about the whole “breaking the rules” situation. Those gifts are either stuff like fossils or skulls/bones or they’re stuff related to the culture of the time-period like watching tournaments in ancient Rome.

- When the two get married and buy a place together, Dakota makes sure it has a room large enough to put his growing collection. As time went by, it started to be less about animals and more about what they find during their missions, though the animal part is still very much there. Dakota refers to the room as “The memory room” while Cavendish calls it “Vinnie’s room”. Cavendish doesn’t spend that much time in it, though he absolutely loves the feeling of reminiscence the collection gives him. If he has guests at home, he tries to keep them away from the room. He knows how important it is for Dakota and doesn’t want it to be disrupted. Cavendish tried to get into Dakota’s passion but, while he found some stuff to be interesting, he’s not really into it compared to Dakota.

- After the events of the episode “We’re Going to the Zoo”, Dakota brought back tickets for his collection, along with a picture of him holding squirrels in his arms while another one has its head coming out of Dakota’s pants, near his feet. Dakota went back to the zoo several times and ended up learning what every animal was and in which section of the zoo they were.

- When the two are fired and banned, they only get like an hour to pack all their stuff. So Dakota uses some future deus ex machina technology, making their house surrounded by a barrier that only the two of them can open. That way, nobody can touch the house and, if they were to be able to go back to the future, which seems to be the case if season 2 was already thought of when “A Christmas Peril” was made, Dakota could find his collection intact, along with the rest of the house.

- Once stuck in the past, Dakota kind of gave up on doing a collection. They don’t have enough space and the realization that Cavendish could now die anytime put a lot on stress on him and most of his thoughts were on Cavendish. This stress started to dim out after the events of the second half of the season, when Dakota realized that maybe the world was done trying to get rid of Cavendish, given how the man was able to survive alone for about a month. During the first celebration they had since getting banned, Cavendish bought something animal-related as usual and it led Dakota to wish to start a collection again. Given the space and their current situation, this collection would mostly be pictures that he can keep in an album in a drawer. Cavendish would probably be the one to buy the album after realizing that Dakota started taking random pictures again.

- At some point, Cavendish learns that there’s a petting zoo in Danville and decides to use it as a birthday gift/surprise. Dakota has never been more in love with him than during the moment when he stepped out of the car and saw the place’s sign (with the exception of their wedding and honeymoon).

…aaaannnd I just made Dakota have an hyperfixation, didn’t I ?

Though, to be honest, I really do want to write characters that are diverse, not only in terms of sexuality like I already do but also in upbringing and neurodiversity. Thing is, to write a neurodivergent character, I need to have the answer to these questions : How often do they stim ? What are the most common stims and what is and isn’t considered as such, aka what does the character does in the show that seems to be a stim ? How does the character acts/should act with others ? Which social cues do they understand ? Which ones do they not understand ? How to write a character that you can tell is neurodivergent without having to make them scream ‘I’m not neurotypical’; with instead having the only ‘confirmation’ of it being in the tags ? How to make them very excited about something without falling into the ‘autistic people are children’ stereotype ?

As long as I can’t answer these questions, I refuse to be an idiot and try to write about something I know I will mess up. And while I do have the curiosity and will to learn more, if not simply because I’m curious about neurodiversity, don’t expect me to write about it anytime soon. Right now my priority is to ‘digitalize’ all the dozen fics I wrote on paper (two of them had been in my writing pile for two years, and several for a year) while making the eventual post that comes to mind like this one.”

Edit : So a few weeks after making that post, I started to learn more about neurodiversity because being autistic makes you curious to know what kinds of behaviors are due to you not being neurotypical. And, as it had been pointed out, I’m not using the correct term here. I didn’t give Dakota a hyperfixation but a special interest. From what I understand, the difference is that hyperfixations stick to you constantly for a while (a few weeks or months), leading you to easily hyperfocus on the topic, before you suddenly start to get less invested in that interest. On the other hand, special interests can stick for months or sometimes years. And even if you’re not constantly thinking about your interest, it’s still there in a corner of your mind and you never get tired of it and keep the knowledge you accumulated to talk about it anytime.

So yeah, I gave Dakota a special interest. The reason why I thought it was a hyperfixation is because I see this term be very often associated with ADHD and a lot of people see Dakota as having ADHD. But still, my bad for mixing up the two. And the reason I didn’t edit the post sooner is because it kind of slipped out of my mind until I made a new post today that mentions this one. Sorry for that too.

#Milo Murphy's Law #Vinnie Dakota #Dakavendish #long post #I guess ?#headcanons #bonus headcanon : Cavendish has a mug collection #but never uses mugs #so Dakota uses them #sometimes taking a certain mug depending on his mood #so that Cavendish knows if he's mad or something #me : I don't know shit abour neurodiversity #also me : *was literally diagnosed as autistic*#though that might actually explain it #maybe I want to know more because of my 'collecting info' side #on top of wanting to be respectful #and curiosity

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pleom · 4 years

Text

swimmer!bang chan [M]

Warnings: heavy angst, mentions and descriptions of depression, emotional abuse, family issues, graphic descriptions of sexual content (cunnilingus, unprotected sex, handjobs, loss of virginity)

Word Count: 8.7k

Something inside you burns. It throbs and pummels against you from the inside-out, wholly unwelcoming, though you wouldn’t say you suffer. You wouldn’t say it’s painful, either. This feeling engulfs you, blending with your senses and the way they interact with each other. Physically, you’d say it’s another part of the experience. Coupled with the vibrations (dull and wide-spaced,) the muffled sounds, the incessant screeching and tapping and cramping and pulling and—

You gasp for breath—a whistle blows—and you can’t swim.

“Y/N, out,” your coach motions for you.

The students around you move hesitantly, but ultimately part for you to exit. Your vision is still blurry, but you manage to pull yourself up the ladder without slipping. You slip on the way to the locker room though, and embarrassedly throw yourself behind the door and onto a bench without abandon.

Your eyes sting, and are probably more red than they usually are after practice. Your skin grays and itches as it slowly dries, so you take a towel to assist both matters. When the only thing keeping your body from fully shrugging off the remaining water is what slides off the tips of your hair, you fling the cloth over your head and sit there, slouched and effectively closing out the rest of the world.

The moments of before are already starting to feel fake—a blur of imagined happenings. The only thing you can clearly recall is your errors, constant and public for all to see (and they did, they most definitely did.) Your lungs cry with the remnants of salt and bleach, and your chest burns with discontent. Discontent that you almost drowned; discontent that your coach didn’t let you drown. (You’ll also be hearing that from your sister later on, when you’ll come home probably coughing and aching, and you can see it already: her prideful and mocking gestures, her feigning concern and doubting your abilities. You sit here, chest gaping, and you know you’ll have no argument against her. She was born with knowledge you had yet to achieve.)

A voice makes you jump. “Are you okay?”

You hope with every fiber of your being you aren’t the person who the question is being directed to. You let it fly over your head, and rub the fabric over your hair to look inconspicuous. Wet footsteps seem to bound straight for you, and in what feels like a second, a shadow peeks from underneath your towel. There’s no use acting like you’re no one, because someone’s standing right before you and seems dead-set on getting you to interact with them.

“Hey.”

Lifting your head, you take in the sight of Chan, all broad-shouldered and pale-skinned to the point you might blame the chemicals in the pool for it. He stands shirtless, though as dry as your throat feels. His class must be after yours.

He doesn’t know you (though you know of him) and it’s clear on his face. Why he bothers to question you, you don’t know. You shouldn’t look that out of place, since a few students like to hide and hang out in the locker rooms alone sometimes. Guess you couldn’t pass off as one of them.

“You don’t look so good,” he says, “Was Coach hard on you? I always tell Dad to go easy on the new swimmers but he never does…”

He sheepishly wrings his towel over his shoulder. It takes you a moment to absorb his words, but when you do, you’re quick to react.

“No, no he doesn’t,” you hesitate, “How did you know I was new here?”

“I come here almost every day to help my dad mentor the students. ‘Think I’d recognize a face like yours.” he takes a step back and seems to take in the look of you. You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but you shuffle in your seat nonetheless. “Did you just transfer?”

You wince at the question and shake your head. You’re too embarrassed to reveal that you have been enrolled since the start, which for sure would make the air between you even more awkward. You quickly flip the conversation to be less you-focused. “So, you help your dad train the students? You must be under a lot of pressure.”

The coach is pretty ruthless. Every interaction with him leaves your skin feeling prickly; every command and scold, his directions, and even his praises—superficial amidst a deeper frustration. You can imagine an inkling of what he must be around his own son, if he’s anything like your own parents.

Chan tilts his head as if in deep consideration, but ultimately shrugs. He takes you by surprise when he breaks into a slight smile. “No, not really. I’m just here to help, as long as someone succeeds at something new, we mark that as a win in our books. Pressuring anyone helps no one.”

You eye the entrance to the pool. His words don’t really match up to your experiences, and you feel a slight jealousy for those who wound up so lucky. Maybe it’s because you’re a late bloomer, if you can even call it that. His father must’ve been shocked at seeing a girl your age floundering at what most have already nailed down.

“It must be nice having a professional help lead you down their path, the only reason why I took this class is so I could finally have a useful skill under my belt,” you can’t help yourself from rambling, so you shut your lips tight once you realize you’ve nearly thrown a pity party for yourself. Cautiously, you glance at Chan and hope he’s been distracted by one thing or another, or grew bored of you once you opened your mouth. Neither seem to be the case, though he looks at you with mild astonishment.

He motions for you to give him your name, and you do, reluctantly, cautiously, as though you’re making a deal that you can’t take back. When you do, he grins with a face of understanding and gives you his hand to shake. This all feels entirely foreign, disconcerting, and you can’t tell if the wetness between your fingers is nervous sweat or remnants of the pool. You have no time to think about it, because you separate when another whistle blows and students begin to file into the locker room.

Chan’s already left with a grin and a wave, and you’re left tugging on your school clothes with your heart beating waves of fire.

Chan has been on your mind ever since, though that is not exactly a feat. You tend to overthink and hyperfocus on the inane—it’s a fault your family has never let you forget. It’s what brings you to the situation at hand right now.

You come home late, after spending your time at the nearby café to sort out your school work. What you forgot to do was sort out your emotions (crucial mistake) and immediately your mother is hounding your every move. You make a snide comment, under your breath, about the state of the house: it feeds you more despair than actual food.

It ends there.

A snap here, a threat there, and you wish you had left as soon as you came. Your house’s front door slams shut behind you and you swallow that hard lump in your throat the best you can. Here, you’re so focused on that insignificant little action, one of pain and only pride, that you miss the tears and the ringing in your ears and it’s all useless. You’re useless.

The sleeves on your shirt have grown damp from all the wiping, and a thought comes: why not get it all wet? You’re already a hose of emotions, and your mother will yell at your weaknesses; the uncontrollable. Giving her a proper reason to scream seems sensible. Maybe you should empower yourself before she can impose her power on you.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you stride towards the school and mentally rummage through different ways of justifying your actions. Who cares if they don’t make sense?

You don’t.

The school pool’s entrance is surprisingly easy to get through. The inside feels especially hollow without the fuss of your classmates and coach. Every step carries its own reverb, and you momentarily hold your breath in case it does, too. But even so, the emptiness of the pool has a strange serenity to it. You bathe in it wholly.

You can’t bathe for too long, so you kick off your shoes and get right to it. You toe the edge of the pool and examine its reflections. You keep your eyes off yourself, only tracing along the ceiling lights and the stars spotted from the window. When the moon starts slowly inching into the view, you plunge.

The water whirls around you in both a menacing and tantalizing way. It plugs all of your senses and you let it. It soothes; it stings. And when you start feeling lightheaded, you resurface.

It takes a while for the blur to leave your eyes and the pounding to leave your ears. However, even with all this sensory overload, you feel blithe, and a full-belly laugh escapes you before you can stop it. You don’t want it to. This is the happiest you’ve felt in months.

Just as quickly, it ends. Abruptly, because someone has made themselves known with a loud clang. It rings from the locker room, and before you can pull yourself out of the water and hide, the door swings open and reveals—

Chan.

He’s already down to his swimwear, and looks unsurprised by your presence here. In fact, he looks somewhat pleased. “You’ve started without me.”

You’re a bit too stunned to respond, and the position of you both suddenly starts weighing on you. You’re on school grounds, way past its lockdown. The dip in the pool has definitely cleared your mind some, and you know now that what you are doing is trespassing. Maybe alone, you could’ve learned to reprimand yourself for doing so, swear to never do it again. But here you are, and there’s a witness.

Chan chuckles, clearly not running through the same thoughts in his own head. Instead, he walks over to your side and kneels, extending his hand. “Need some help?”

You can’t bring it in yourself to argue, so you take his hand and let him pull you out. You collapse very sloppily onto the tiles, the weight of your soaked clothes dragging you down. There’s silence. Your heartbeat slows once you realize Chan’s not intending on pulling any tricks. (At least you hope.)

“I won’t tell,” Chan eases your thoughts, “as long as you tell me the reason why you’re here.”

Despite saying this, there’s no urgency or force behind his words. You don’t feel pressured to answer, so you pay no mind when you do. “Wanted some time alone for myself and this was the closest thing in mind.”

“Did you know the door to the pool would be open?”

“No, not at all.”

Chan hums. He doesn’t seem suspicious of you. He doesn’t question you after that. Instead, he takes a couple steps back, “Well… if that’s all…”

He races forward and dives into the water, splashing your legs in the process. He disappears for a moment, then breaks the surface into a breastroke. He moves languidly, though sharp enough to slice straight through the liquid.

It’s a harsh contrast to you. You start to feel uncomfortable and misplaced now that the son of your coach displays his skill. Imagining yourself in his spot feels daunting, and you have to fight your instincts to just grab your shoes and run.

Back home.

The thought makes you shiver.

“Hey,” Chan floats up to you on his back. “You wanted swimming lessons, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” You’re nervous to see where this is going.

He smiles. “So hop in.”

Your parents didn’t question why you came home late that night. Nor why your clothes were mildly wet. Your sister gave her routine insult–slash–brag and was on her way. You certainly didn’t complain, now that you were left to your own devices, and on it the screen pings with a new message, one from Chan, whose contact you have yet to save.

You stay up all night responding to his texts.

When the next day comes, your loneliness hits harder than usual. You had forgotten what it was like interacting with people for a period of time longer than the length of class. You find yourself looking over your shoulder more often for a glimpse of Chan, even while swimming. And surprisingly, you don’t get yelled at by the coach for being so sidetracked. You’ve accumulated more praises, though you still sense it’s from a place of pitiful obligation.

You come home earlier than usual.

“So you’ve just given up on your education now, huh?”

“What?”

Your head snaps up at your mother’s voice. She stands as volatile as ever, hands splayed over her hips. The house smells flowery; she’s making her special rose petal flan—something she only does as a treat for herself, when things for her are going exceptionally well. These days come rare but welcomed, because usually then she’s as sensitive and motherly as one can be.

Yet today is the total opposite. And you get an inkling as to why: your English test sheet, laid on the kitchen counter.

You wince. Of course she had snooped through your room and saw your failure peeking through your garbage bin.

“I gave you so many chances, so many chances, let you drop out of math for God’s sake! And this is how you repay me? Failing your tests and coming home early? Did you even go to the library today? Have you ever studied in your entire life?!”

Your mom shows no sign of ever stopping her tirade. Her neck seems to have grown redder by the second. Your sister arrives just in time to catch the next part, no doubt excited to have her ego fed as per usual.

“We’ve moved cities, exchanged schools, and transferred jobs, just so you could have the opportunity your sister had. Do you think life was easy for her when we all lived in that garbage bin we called an apartment? Do you think she let that dissuade her from acing her studies and receiving that scholarship?” Your mother points at your sister then, and the looks on both of their faces hit you with two different senses of shame, both equally strong. “Are you honestly willing to undo all of your sister’s hard work? This is how you want to end your senior year? This is how you planned to enter adulthood?”

And with that she takes your paper and shreds it. She leaves you for the living room, sparing not one glance at the way your lips tremble and eyes glisten. It hurts, but in a way, you’re glad she doesn’t notice. It’d only stack another disappointment onto that pile she holds. Your sister’s grown bored of looking at you too, and trots off behind your mother.

Despite your blues, the sun is still up. So you exit the front door and sit on the steps. You wish you had it in you to fight back, no matter how disastrous that might end out to be. Because what your mother doesn’t realize is that it all piles up. You never asked to move to a new city, this late into high school. Everyone’s already bound and wound tight around each others’ fingers—friends, best friends, lovers, all things you’ve rarely experienced due to your momentary presence. You have your acquaintances, those who you would probably refer to as ‘friends,’ but they’re surface-level at best, not people you could ever rely on.

But that’s all she thinks you’re good for: never achieving, or attaining, or accomplishing, only to ever rely on others.

Impulsively, you pull out your cell phone and reach out to the only person nearby that you can.

TO: BANG CHAN

Just had an argument with my mom :(

Not feeling good…

FROM: BANG CHAN

Oh, no :(( are you okay?

Wanna come over and swim? Help clear your head?

The pool doors are open

Legally, this time :p

The slightest grin stretches over your face.

“And that’s how you do a butterfly stroke,”

The other kids of this program have begun to slowly disperse. They’re all younger—freshmen, probably—that make you want to douse your head in shame. The worst part of it all is that Chan isn’t even teaching them, they’ve all learned how to do the basic swimming strokes, and it makes it all the more obvious how lacking you are.

Chan had tried to placate you and tell you that most students aren’t paying attention to your mistakes, but you’re pretty sure that you saw one kid giggle when you came up for air.

As afternoon blends into evening, the lights indoors begin to feel more artificial. Chan pulls you over to a bench once most of the kids have gone home. This is when the awkwardness starts settling in.

“You should come here more often if you’re so worried about your skills, which, by the way, aren’t as bad as you think they are. No one is looking at you funny because of it.”

He pats you amiably on the shoulder. You shrug.

“I’ve already got too much on my plate. I usually go straight to the library to start on my homework. By the time I finish, it’s dinner time and I’ve got to make the switch over to the cafe to finish up my studies. An after-school swimming program can remain an afterthought, sorry,”

“Geez, no wonder I’ve never seen you walking around during class,” he gasps, “you’re up to your neck in work!”

“Yep,” you sigh. “Doesn’t even seem like it’s paying off.”

“How so?”

“My IQ is in the negatives,”

Chan jolts up as though he’s been caught asking an insensitive question, but just as quickly melts into himself. He gently slaps a hand on your arm, giggling. “No, it’s not! But for real, though…”

“I wasn’t lying,” you say, “Hours in the library, and yet I still fail.”

“It happens to the best of us, sometimes,”

“Sometimes being the key word,” you insist. “This isn’t sometimes.”

Chan is silent for a moment. “Be easy on yourself, it’s senior year, you’re allowed to make mistakes.”

You’re tempted to say ‘No, I’m not allowed. I have never been allowed. I’ve been perpetually skidding along thin ice,’ but you swallow it.

“Ok but,” you start, slowly and cheekily. “I’ve yet to see you make a single mistake in the pool. What is it going to take to make the Great Bang Chan, son of an actual professional athlete, screw up?”

“If my friends got here,” he says with a smile. “They’ve always got tricks up their sleeves. Some that they can probably teach you.”

“They swim as well?”

“Yep, but definitely not as good as me as you might’ve guessed,” he jokingly flexes, laughing. Then he sobers. “They’re coming later, if that’s okay with you.”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay with me?” You ask, but you’re already getting up to make yourself more presentable for their arrival. “That means more tutors for me.” And more judges.

There’s a moment of pleasant solitude between you and Chan before his friends trickle in. They enter in small enough numbers that it gives you time to familiarize yourself with them.

Seungmin came the earliest, the most diligent of the crew. He spoke gently and swam even softer. Felix and Jeongin toed after him, and flung water with utmost chaos. Others came and you observed, much too shy to delve into the same antics they toyed in. At times, Chan would climb out and chill with you, prompting the others to take a break and chat alongside. It all mended into a blur as the sky grew purple.

Over the days, you find the presence of Chan’s friends comforting. They’re friendly—obviously—with lighthearted races and pool tricks. They give you an experience you’ve been deprived of since you moved. They’ve taught you well, surprisingly. And it must have also come as a shock to your coach.

He approaches you one afternoon after class ends.

“Y/N, you were amazing out there,” he says. “Haven’t seen an improvement that big in a long while.”

Something about his statement rubs wrong on you. You take a step back, guarded.

“Thank you,” you say, making sure to send a polite smile his way. “Swimming has started to become more fun as the days go by. Really grateful to have made the exchange over here.”

“I’m glad as well. Honestly, I was a bit worried when you enrolled a bit late into this class. Have to keep the students all on the same page, and it’s hard to split the attention,” he sets a hand over your shoulder. “But it seems like you’ll be on the same level as the others in no time! Keep up the good work!”

And like that, your suspicions have been confirmed. Your stomach drops when he leaves, and you mentally beat yourself up for thinking you were in any way competent. A pity-compliment, that’s all that was. That’s all it ever is.

Chan rushes into the locker room and quickly changes into his swimwear. When he sees you, he smiles, pauses to wrap you up into a hug, and is out in the pool in no time. His father watches him from the sidelines fondly, with an expression that clearly holds pride and amazement.

You wonder if you will ever get that kind of look from your parents. Or anyone, for that matter.

That question is still up in the air, weeks later, when your sister intrudes on your swimming class one morning. She doesn’t interrupt or anything. She just quietly stands by the pool’s entrance and watches. You see her eyes trail over the other students and slowly back to you, making silent observations, none of them kind.

When you climb out and class is over, she pulls you to the side. She takes a moment to look you over. “So this is what you’ve picked up since you came here. Impressive.”

“Well, yeah,” you say, and try to move hurriedly to the locker room to escape her. She takes you by the arm, demanding. You struggle shoving her off. “I also need to pick up my books for next class, if you’ll excu—”

“Oh, you don’t have any class to go to right now,” she snaps. “I’ve called. You’re coming home with me for now.”

You freeze, and with satisfaction, your sister drops your arm. “Why?”

“It’s an emergency, one I thought you should know,” a small smile spreads across her lips, and your heart sinks. It can’t be a family emergency, right? Or else she’d be more panicked, right? But if it’s not, what can be so urgent that your sister would have to pick you up from school so early? “Just grab what you need for now so we can go.”

Hesitantly, you nod your head and follow her orders. When you are sat inside her car, you wait for her to disclose any information related to your early departure. She doesn’t feed your curiosity then, only drives slowly and silently down the road to your house. She makes a detour, picks a route that’s longer than your usual, and finally breaks the silence.

“You know how my scholarship gave our Mom a better opportunity at finding a job, right?” It’s a simple question, but set up dangerously and your sweat kicks in as you nod. “And since Dad isn’t the only one working anymore, we’ve got more money to spend, right?”

Right. This is a big jump from the past, when your father only made enough to cover the expenses of the bills and a few groceries. Your mother was met with job rejections left and right, and neither you nor your sister had the time or management to juggle grades as well as employment. At that time, your mother insisted that you focus more on school. She made promises that if one of you hit big, that would be enough of a reward for her. That all her stress and burdens would be paid off. You suppose it half came true. Financially, you were all rewarded.

But rather, all her stress and burdens were pushed in a different direction. You wonder what it’s like to be on the opposite side. You eye your sister, and nod your head to continue.

“So, initially, her plan was to save up to help you out once you graduated. Of course, she knew this was necessary, since there’s no way in hell you’d strike a full scholarship with, you know,” she throws you a sidelong glance, batting her eyelashes. Your hand tightens around your seatbelt. “But she realized, even with a new and improved environment, that your current habits probably wouldn’t strike you one at all. She was forgiving at first. Thought about paying half your tuition and taking a loan for the other. Welp. Then you dropped pre-calculus for swimming and made her rethink her life choices all over again. Good job!”

“Sis,” you hiss, “what does that mean?”

You can’t handle her bullshitting right now. Though you know she has all the time in the world for it. Your surroundings have begun to look unfamiliar, and the anxiety inside you strikes. That’s probably the effect she was going for.

“It means you’re fucked,” she lets out a loud laugh, “you’re not getting any help from her. Or Dad for that matter. Better start counting your pennies, sis!”

And just like that, the tightening in your chest explodes. You feel as though you’re suffocating, each intake of breath amounting to none. Your body grows hotter and you’re wracked with shivers, and stuck inside the cramped space of your sister’s car leaves you no space to handle your panic attack.

You’re overwhelmed by the thoughts of what’s to come. Getting into college—now a complete uncertainty—just to be lost in debt, and there’s nothing to do about it. You lack life experience. You’ve been holed up and relying on the bare minimum to get you by. The only moment you have been able to hold your head above the water, and your own family has dunked you back underneath. You’re struggling to win a sabotaged race.

“By the way, don’t tell Mom I told you,” your sister says, now pulling into your driveway. She chatters in a low voice, as if she doesn’t want the world to listen in on your conversation. “It’s our little secret. Just like how it was mine and hers.”

You find yourself not coming home at night. Where you stay is just about as much of a mystery to them as it is to you. You’ve huddled yourself in the locker rooms some nights, using sheets and water bottles as cushions. You’ve cornered yourself in classrooms. Hell, you’ve even holed yourself up in your family’s car, in the backseat, on the floor so that onlookers can’t peep and tattle your nightly whereabouts to your family (What a disgrace that would’ve been). But you’ve always made sure to come back home at the lick of dawn, just before the rest of them would get up and bang down your door looking for answers to ‘where’ve you been last night?’ and ‘what time did you get home?’ and you’d answer ‘the park’ or ‘friend’s’ or ‘convenience store,’ and ‘at midnight.’ Just late enough for it to be believable. No one’s ever up that late, and if one were, they’d probably be tired or drunk off their ass to notice your absence. No one’s ever called your bluff, a heartbreaking realization that you’ve come to appreciate.

Chan, though, walks into the pool at just the wrong time. You’ve just gotten used to the stench of bleach and chlorine when he nudges you awake on your makeshift bed of thin sheets and soaked homework paper. You dash up, searching and grabbing for your phone to check your alarms (How did you miss it? Was it on silent? A dead battery?). Chan chuckles as if your panic is the funniest thing he has ever seen.

“You’re fine, school’s not open till another hour and a half,” he picks up on your confusion. It seems to settle into his own features. He’s got swim trunks on, and a towel slung over his shoulder. From the corner of your eye, you note the darkness of a not-yet-risen sun. “I just decided to come in early for quick practice.”

An awkward pause and an understanding nod to himself later, he kneels. “Hey. What are you doing on the floor here?”

His eyebrows knit and his worry looks even more pronounced in this dark blue reflection of… life. How pitiful you must look. He’s probably wondering if you’re that dirt-poor, that sleeping on tile might be considered a luxury to you. But even so, you can’t bother to be embarrassed by yourself at the moment. He’s pulled you out of the comfort of unconsciousness, so now you’re fighting your natural reactions to the biting cold and solid ground.

It hurts. You’re sore and your face is blue and all you can think about is crying. It hurts that your options are either this or your home, and the fact that you chose this.

“I’m fine,” you nod meekly, “Just…napping,”

Too overwhelmed to map out a convincing lie, you prepare yourself for the defenses. This is going to sting Chan and you are sure going to regret it later, but fuck it. You’ll deal with the consequences once you’ve showered under hot water and mulled it over at breakfast.

Chan reaches for your shoulder, palm warm, and helps you sit up. “Why are you napping on the floor?”

“Because if I nap in the pool, I’ll drown.”

Chan almost cracks, and you consider that a victory. But he just as quickly wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, one hand laying over your own. “Don’t joke about stuff like that. I’m serious. Are you okay? Did…something happen at home, again?”

Something’s always happening at home, and that’s the part that drives you nuts. Your old friends can handle you complaining about spontaneous spats with your sister every once in a while, but would go madder than you if they heard every single crisis that went down behind your walls. You have to bite and swallow every time.

You shake your head. “I tried swimming last night. It went about how’d you expect, and I knocked out on the floor immediately after. Not sure how you can do it, Chan. Honestly, everyday I respect you a little more.”

He chuckles, arm tightening around you for a pulse. “No one’s born a pro. And I promise you, you’re on your way to becoming one.”

You feel as though you’re on your way to becoming no one. You try to voice this as inconspicuous as possible.

“What if you disappoint someone because you’re not there yet?” you ask, “What if they wanted you to be a pro since the very beginning, and because you’re nowhere close, they end up mad?”

“Who’s mad? If it’s about my dad, I promise you he’s not—”

“No, it’s not him.Forget it.”

“Is it—” he inhales, “Is—Is your family upset? Is that why you’re here?”

You don’t respond. It’s enough of an answer.

“I’m not sure what they said to you, but just know they’re wrong. We all improve at our own pace, and we’re not better or worse for it. You need to give yourself patience, ignore them, just—”

“Chan, I can’t ignore them,” you snap. You pull yourself from Chan’s embrace and bury your face into your knees. Your eyes burn as the emotions take over you. It doesn’t hurt less as time goes on. “They make my life a living hell and there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t know how to do anything. I’m the very definition of useless, and the worst part is that they all know, but no one helps. I can’t leave them or else I’ll just end up… here.”

Sobs start to wrack through you, and you can’t do anything to stop it. You’re tired of wallowing in self-pity, in others’ pity, but you’re at a loss for what to do. You wish you weren’t an adult with the tendencies of a child, only there for others to look after. No one’s taught you what it takes for that transition to happen, to grow independant, to discover skills and utilize them. They’ve just thrown you in the deep end and disregarded you when you drowned. You wish you weren’t so helpless. You wish you had some help.

“I wish I knew what to say,” Chan murmurs. He’s wrapped his arms around his knees and seems to gaze into the pool. Every once in a while, he passes you a glance, but ultimately, he leaves you to yourself.

The sun has slowly started to rise, and the birds have begun to chirp. That’s your cue to get out of here, though even now you’re running behind schedule. Your eyes sting and you hope your walk back home is enough to soothe them back to normal.

Chan stands up when you do, and quickly interrupts you by the doorway. His face is sullen, concave, and heavy as though he bears the same amount of burdens that you do. Who’s to say he doesn’t?

“Just… We’ll figure this out, okay? Together.” He meets your eyes. “I’ll wait at the pool for you. As soon as they start acting up, come here immediately. Don’t let their words intimidate you.”

“Okay,” just when you think this conversation’s done, he pauses you again. A beat passes. Several. And then he leans in—

His lips press against yours, soft and warm, and are off in an instant. You don’t have enough time to savor the feeling.

He smiles and says, “I don’t want you to be in any danger, whether that be at home or otherwise, okay?”

You smile. An unnamed pressure lifts from your shoulders. “Okay.”

You feel a bit guilty, keeping Chan out of his own home during the nights and mornings. You have to fight to reassure yourself that this is out of his own volition. He certainly doesn’t seem bothered when he spots you on your way to the pool’s entrance. And he’s found ways to help the time pass faster. Be it games, studying, or making out.

Yep, he’s introduced a new activity to you, though you can’t really complain. But it doesn’t change the fact that the pool’s tile and linoleum, all cold and hard, is not meant for a person to sleep on. You’ve started checking the other for bruises and marks that could be left behind in your wakes, literally.

Over time, it’s become a routine. A sad one; one that shouldn’t be necessary, but you force yourself to think of it in a positive light. That’s also something he’s been teaching you while you stay: how to manage your inner thoughts, how to turn those demons into angels, even when the devil is really, really trying you. It’s helped ease your wounds, and you avoid your family enough for them to not reopen them.

Finally, that’s his last lesson. Family is both permanent and temporary, and you’d be glad to know that the permanent ones are those you keep, and hold tight, and never ought to lose. While temporary family could always be cut off, and should be, because what’s the point of family if they won’t be there for you all the time? He’s made sure to look you deep in your eyes when he said this, voice clear and low, and just a bit unsteady. You take your time digesting that one.

You’ve got trouble with your family, and one night, after more than a week’s passed, you get into trouble with someone else’s.

You had arrived at the pool a tad bit early, you supposed, and had already laid out all your blankets and card games when the entrance clanged open. You were about to reveal a new game you’d discover online to Chan, only to be met with a voice much deeper than his.

“Y/N.”

Your head snaps up and immediately blood rushes to your ears. Coach dangles a set of keys in his hand, and seems–rightly–surprised at your appearance. But you can see the moment he understood what he saw. A person’s pity can only extend so much, and you know exactly where yours lies.

You don’t even have to wince.

School break has just started, and of course you’re grounded.

On one hand, you’re happy you don’t have to face your coach after being caught trespassing. His face held a look of rage and disappointment, and you don’t want to witness that any more than you have to. The resemblance between him and Chan are uncanny.

But you’re home. That doesn’t spell out comfort for you at all.

You and Chan send messages back and forth to each other consisting of “i miss you”s and “sorry that happened”s. You rant to him about how fed up you’ve been, and you feel relieved for the first time in a long while, because finally, someone is there to listen, judgement-free. Chan suggests sneaking into your house for the night a couple of times to see each other, but you reject, saying that your mother’s too eagle-eyed for that to happen.

Once break is over and school is back open, your family keeps their eyes locked on you like a hawk. You no longer can stop by the library for homework or studying, instead they demand you return back home immediately once school’s over. Your father insists on helping you study instead, and although you know it’s not out of the pure kindness of his heart, you accept it for the time being.

Swim class is awkward, now that both you and Coach Bang have to pretend to not have gone through that whole ordeal. But you can feel his gaze linger on you when you plunge underwater. You have no idea what he thinks of you now, after all this, and you’re too embarrassed to ask Chan.

One day, Chan approaches you before swim class begins.

“Mind if I take you out for a bit?” He asks. You slyly look at the clock ticking away by the door to the pool. You have just about a minute. Only a minute to get ready. “It’ll only be for a quick moment. You’ll be back in no time and if you don’t, I’ll cover for you.”

You squint suspiciously at Chan. “What’s this about?”

“A surprise. One my father will absolutely understand.”

When it puts it like that…

It’s a quick ride to where Chan ends up taking you: a bizarre little creek tucked behind several neighborhood houses. Its water runs fresh, uncontaminated by human interaction, feeding into the thick brushes of land and trees. It’s a beautiful sight indeed, but wholly inconsequential. You look to Chan for a clue as to why he brought you here.

He seems lost in himself and nature. Slowly, he jumps over to the rocks and gazes into the creek’s depth. For a moment, you think he’s just brought you to admire the scenery, so you’re shocked out of your own stupor when he speaks. “My father used to bring me here when I was a child. He used to bring the whole family out for a swim.”

You hum and silently make your way closer to him. He still dashes from one stone to another, calm and in thought. “My earliest memories of training began here. It was the best, surrounded by natural sounds and protected by the rocks. It isn’t too deep, just about perfect for my height and age. Eventually we started coming here less and less as my Dad took up calls and schedules. We all grew older and busier, till we just abandoned it. But sometimes I come here when I need to give myself a break and really think.”

You’re brushed shoulder-to-shoulder together now. Your balance isn’t as good as Chan’s, and you end up slipping and stepping into the creek every other second. He happily keeps a hand near your waist and hoists you back up whenever needed.

“Do your neighbors ever come here?”

“They’ve got their own gardens to tend to,” he nods towards the houses. “No one other than me has come here in at least a decade.”

He eyes you as he says this. It’s his own little safe haven. And if he’s so sure that no one has snuck in yet, that means you’re the first to enter it.

The realization makes you bow your head, flustered. Chan hums satisfactory by your side. You both listen to the birds coo and the bugs chitter, soaking in nature’s creations. When Chan notices you finally getting a bit restless, he takes your hand and leads you to the rocks. Your legs slightly dip inside the creek, its water soaking through your clothes, but you don’t mind. It’s coldness is welcomed as the sun soars higher into the sky.

“Here’s not like the pool,” Chan says, fingers toying with the ends of your hair. “There’s no chance anyone will catch us here.”

The implication is not lost on you, especially with the way he looks into your eyes as he speaks. Incidents of the past come to mind, but they’re quickly replaced by thoughts of the future, such as: his lips on yours, your hands in his, and most importantly—

“I know,” you hastily respond, “I know.”

And the moment is clear. His lips are definitely on yours, and your hands are in his, but also on his; and over his arms; and grasping his shoulders. And most importantly, his body surrounds you and he’s hugging you to his chest. Your breath runs low, and you can’t tell if it’s because of his arms or his lips.

Either way, you embrace it all.

He leans you on the rocks. He’s grinding and you feel something…hard, brush against you. It fills you with heat, both subtle and scorching and when he presses that against you again, his hand slowly travelling down your body, you stiffen and pull back.

“Chan, I—” You gasp, “I’ve never done this before…ever… and—”

“Hey,” He says, “It’s fine. We can stop if you want to.”

And he pauses, slightly moving backwards to give you some air to breathe in. You listen to your heart beat in your chest, use that rhythm to help calm you down. Once it slows, you’re still hot as before, though it spreads from somewhere deep in you.

“It’s—,” you stutter, “I want to do this. Now.”

A knowing grin spreads across Chan’s face, and he gently lowers himself over you, settles a kiss, quick and harmless, on your lips, then pushes onward.

It’s rough and gentle all at the same time. Both overwheling and manageable. You’re up to your hips in water, having slid down the rocks, but you can feel that you’re wet for other reasons.

Chan pulls backs and mouths at your neck, fingers unfastening the buttons of your clothing and tossing them haphazardly. You’re pretty sure you hear a couple splashes as he does so. He kisses down your chest, your tummy, and then hooks his arms around your bottom and lifts you. He helps you back on the rocks and holds you in place as he focuses on you.

“Turn over,” he commands. He’s still standing within the creek itself, chest level with your waist. The request takes its time to settle in your mind. When it does, your face starts to burn, but you follow his order nonetheless.

Like this, you lay flat on your stomach on the grass and your legs swing over the rocks and into the creek. Chan softly tugs your pants down, just far enough to expose you. He delicately places his hands on your cheeks and spreads them. And—

Oh.

That’s his tongue. And he’s dragging it over you in a way that makes your toes curl. You tighten around nothing, not until he does you the favor of adding his fingers to the mix. He slides them into you easily, pumping them while his tongue does its work on your clit.

And now you’re clawing at the grass and dirt and rocks. You can feel yourself lightly kicking Chan in the chest and shoulders, but he only squeezes your hips back, invitingly.

Soon, you’re cumming around his fingers and can’t help yourself from slowly sliding down the rocks and into the creek. Chan does his best to soften your descent, then turns you around to face him. His face is glimmering with both your and the creek’s wetness, hair laid down by sweat, lips plump from how much they’ve been pressed against you, God he just looks so erotic and amazing like this that you tug him in for a kiss. You taste yourself (at least you think that’s you) and it’s not the most pleasant, but you don’t mind because he doesn’t mind.

“Do you…?” You breathlessly motion for his member. He grins and looks down at you as if you’ve just asked him a silly question. And similarly, he plants a light kiss on your nose before diving for your lips again.

“Next time, baby,” he says, “Right now I just wanna feel you.:”

So he pulls you flush against him, arms roaming around your body. When you’re both red-faced from kissing the lights off each other, he helps you climb out of the creek.

Neither of you are really thinking when you hit the ground, him on top of you and his length sliding over your folds. He’s teasing, but you’re too excited to hold off for any longer, so you wrap your arms around him and pull him chest-to-chest, crying with your impatience.

With a chuckle, he gives in, sinking into you. You’re surprised at how well you take it. He fills you up so nicely, so intensely. Each thrust sends you into another fit of heat, your core burning and tightening around him. Chan nuzzles his face in your shoulder, and with every pump of his hips, he teethes at the skin of your neck.

Every feeling is amplified when he’s folded around you like this, and as time runs out, another orgasm makes its way through your body. Chan groans appreciatively and leans on his arms to plant kisses all over your lips, face, and neck.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Let it all out. Let me feel you.”

You cry out when he abruptly pulls out. He kneels beside you and wraps a hand around his length, hastily jerking himself to completion.

You watch in entrancement, the way his face scrunches up, and the way his whole member and fist shines and you’ve suddenly got a craving to put your lips on his dick.

You hesitantly bring a hand over to it first, to test the waters. His movement stutters, then slows down once he realizes what you’re trying to do. You sit up and bring your other hand to his cock. Cautiously, you start to pump them.

“Don’t be scared,” Chan chuckles, “You can squeeze harder.”

Your grip tighten, but not too much, and you try again. Small, airy grunts fall from his lips. His hips start thrusting with your hands. You watch as the head of his cock disappears and reappears into his foreskin, shimmering with the mix of you and his pre-cum. It’s strangely appetizing.

You lean down to put you mouth on Chan’s dick without much thought. His hardness is cushioned by your lips, and his skin is silkier than you initially imagined. But it’s at this moment you realize you have no idea what to do.

You look up at Chan, and he groans at the sight of you at this angle. But then, a fond smile makes its way on his face and he lifts a hand to gingerly comb through your hair.

“It’s okay,” he laughs affectionately, “I’ll teach you another time. For now…”

He brings his hand back to his cock and finishes himself off. You deflate a bit, disappointed you weren’t able to give him his orgasms that he so desperately deserves, especially after getting you there twice. But he’s already on the ground alongside you, holding your face in the palm of his hands and pulling you into a loving smooch.

“That was amazing,” he moans, drawing out the loudest kiss sound from both of your lips. You both giggle in response. “I couldn’t be more happy you decided to give yourself to me.”

“Wasn’t planning on giving myself to anyone other,” you say. You climb on top of Chan, squealing as you try to indulge in the high-famed post-sex cuddles you’ve heard so much about. Chan squeezes you back with the brightest and most-dimpled grin you’ve ever seen.

Eventually, the mirth wears off, as the wind picks up and you’re immediately reminded that you’re both outdoors, off-campus one might say, but most definitely not on school grounds, when you absolutely should be.

You lay back, groaning when you check the time. Late. “My mom is going to kill me.”

It seems as though you can’t stop making mistakes and screwing your chances. The school year is almost ending and you feel like your life might end with it. You try to think more positively, but as the seconds tick by with neither of you racing back towards the school, the worse you feel.

Chan shuffles about. “Your mother isn’t going to kill you.”

“How would you know?”

He pauses; takes a moment to inhale.

“I told my dad about what’s going on at home, hope that wasn’t intrusive,” he says, and your heart stops. “He understands what you’re going through and regrets acting that way. He’s willing to take it all back. In fact, he says you’ve gotten so good at swimming lately, that he wants you to help mentor the kids. It’s a paid opportunity.”

His hand falls over yours. “I’m also seeking ways to get you away from there. My home’s got a guest bedroom, and I’ve been convincing my mom to clear it out.”

“You mean…”

“I do,” he says, “Some of us are not blessed with the most supporting families, and that’s okay. Because you have people that care for you, we care for you, I care for you, even if your family…cares for you a bit less.”

It hurts to hear him say it. Hurts even deeper to know it’s true. But the warmth in his gaze soothes you even just a little bit.

The dangers of going home is always a threat that hangs over your head, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned since meeting Chan, it’s that you don’t always have to go alone.

When the time is clear, when you’ve found support and built up confidence, you confront your family.

You tell them that you’ve had it. You no longer keep your whereabouts a secret, you no longer let them intrude on you anymore. You tell them that you’ve found a job, that you’re now able to support yourself from here-on-out. You are no longer financially, emotionally, or physically bound to them whether they like it or not. When you’re done, you don’t even stay to observe their reactions, though you can hear your sister snickering over your shoulder.

Chan’s there to give you a ride to his house, once you’ve packed up enough for a week. He says he’ll accompany again next time. Or maybe there won’t be a next time.

You are rewarded for what you have achieved, rather than what you can, and you can leave the past remnants behind and rediscover yourself in a new way, confidently.

I must salute smut writers, because every single time i’ve attempted to write smut I’ve struggled, ugh… but anyways………….

hope you guys liked this! if you made it this far, that is. ^^ this was edited by @jaeminlore who was really kind enough to do so!

#bang chan #stray kids #bang chan scenarios #bang chan smut #skz smut #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #bang chan angst #stray kids angst #skz angst #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #.mine

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painted-crow · 3 years

Note

Did you model Bookkeeper Badger or Courtier Badger most of the time ?

In regards to the past tense you're using--it's the Badger primary model I dropped. Which, I've held on to some of its ideals, but they're just another part of my Bird primary system, and that feels very different.

My Badger secondary model is still good and kicking though!

I was just gonna write about how I use it (and how I try not to use it) to answer this ask, but then it turned into

Secondary Toast Revolving Door, Part 3

(Badger model edition)

and I'm just gonna roll with it.

I did have an unhealthy way I used my Badger secondary model that was... either extreme Bookkeeper, or it's actually been unhealthy Lion secondary all along and I've been mis-Sorting it and this is why the idea of using Lion secondary wigs me out a little. (It's fine when other people use it, but I find the prospect of using it myself at least slightly terrifying.)

Part of my problem is that I'm way too used to situations where pushing through despite feeling like I was about to collapse was the only option. It's probably got to do with... well, some childhood stuff I won't go into too deeply. My mom was in the hospital a lot. The school situation I was in just made everything worse. It's complicated.

Anyway, if I'm under stress, I dissociate out exhaustion, hunger, emotional distress, and even physical pain for hours or days at a time, and I can buckle down and hyperfocus on work (in what would be panic mode if I were more aware of my emotions during these periods). It sounds useful and badass but it really isn't.

Downside #1 is that I will eventually feel the effects of that panic, and any other needs I've been ignoring--it might be at a more convenient time, but those effects definitely won't be lessened.

Downside #2 is traumatic burnout. Do not try this at home. (I always hesitate to use the word "trauma" for my experiences, but the physical reaction I get to writing about some of this stuff says otherwise.)

Downside #3 is that I don't get to choose when my brain does or doesn't do this. It just happens when I'm under stress. I can't count how many times I've had an actual migraine and not noticed why I was so irritable for hours, when I could have taken something.

Downside #4 is that it works. This is possibly the worst one, because the phrase "do your best" takes on a cold sweat-inducing new meaning. My little "ability" has led to some absolutely buckwild performances under deadline, none of which I want to repeat, and I'm not sure I like knowing how much I can get done if I prioritize not failing over not burning out.

(On that note, if you thought my Badger primary model was Exploded last year, you should've seen it 3-4 years ago. I remember when this Kitten Witch post first went up, because I was like "...what? wait--")

In short, this is a very shitty superpower and I would like to re-roll.

I'm undecided whether this is a Badger flavored emergency mode, or the only Lion secondary I can recall using. I lean towards Badger because I have this pathological inability to half-ass anything, and it does not go away during emergencies. But it's possible that it felt Badger flavored because my unhealthy Badger primary model was egging it on with its self deprecating (...self dehumanizing?) exploded Badger crap.

So, wanna know how I got into these nasty deadline crunch situations where emergency hardcore Badger mode became "necessary"?

(I feel like I should reiterate my trigger warning on this series about now: we're talking about gifted kid burnout stuff and I'm about to sarcastically skewer some of my old thought processes here.)

Adequately warned? Great! Here are the step by step instructions to a real shitty time!

Take on a bunch of work while you're feeling okay, based on how much you think everyone else is doing.

Depression gets inevitably triggered somehow, by life stress or overwork or winter or whatever. Burn Bird secondary because that's been a stress response at least since high school.

Have absolutely no clue about the fact that your "limits" vary drastically and your productivity has huge peaks and valleys due to various forms of undiagnosed neurodivergence, which school/college is not designed to accommodate. So, rather than taking a rest and sorting out the stressful thing, get mad at yourself for "being lazy"!

Continue trying to work. Struggle wildly with executive dysfunction. Panic. Get frustrated and angry at yourself. It's cool, I'm sure this will make your Bird secondary start working again soon. (just kidding lol it's making it worse)

When you've aggravated your depression enough, shut down for a few months! Your work will still be there. Piling up. Taunting you. you're falling so far behind what are you doing everyone else can keep up except you

Get sick for a week. Feel relieved that at least now you have a legitimate excuse to not be working. This benefit may feel like it outweighs the symptoms of the flu or sinus infection or whatever you have.

Go into emergency hardcore mode, complete a ridiculous workload in the week before deadline, turn it all in, be almost too exhausted to feel guilty about doing everything last minute.

me: "I don't have ADHD! My focus is usually fine."

also me: this. ^ what is this.

So, I avoid that now. If I notice when Step 3 is happening and I can switch tasks--maybe clean my living space, do some laundry, get some good food, take care of tasks unrelated to whatever project it is that I'm too freaked out to work on--then Bird will be back in a week or two, assuming nothing else huge and stressful happens, and I'll have another productivity peak that'll let me catch up.

This is not the conventional wisdom. Conventional wisdom says you must never break momentum, you must schedule your work out 6 weeks ahead so you always know if you're on track, you must...!

Totally counterproductive for me. My brain is weird and did not come with a manual.

These days, on top of my Bird secondary, I model a mixture of Bookkeeper Badger and mirroring (a Courtier skill), for a number of purposes. I find work satisfying, I'm not afraid of long projects (that I choose), and that shifting, empathetic mirroring response is my default social mode.

But Badger's most important job is to gently take over when Bird is stressed out, and give it space to recover while methodically fixing anything about my situation that's not helping. It's good for that.

I prefer it to the alternative, anyway.

#sortinghatchats #secondary toast revolving door #hufflepuff secondary model #burned ravenclaw secondary #shc models #asks #paint speaks

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dragonstoravens · 4 years

Text

Babylon Vol. 1: Accidents Happen, Never Too Late for a Disaster

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(These are the final two chapters of Babylon book 1! After this we’re going to take a break until after the new year, and pick up posting book 2 then. Keep an eye out for updates, enjoy any holidays you may celebrate and whatever time off you may get either way, and I hope you enjoy the culmination of One Entire Book Of Dumbasses.)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

22. Accidents Happen

A little laugh wasn’t usually too much to pay to buy some time to not have to talk. Azure smiled at the scrawny balding man to her left and leaned back into Trinity as far as she could without bumping him, trying as hard as she could to not make it obvious she did not actually find him funny really at all. Trinity was funny. Trinity made jokes and had wit galore. Trinity could single-handedly make her break character in less than three words. This man had none of that, and his voice sounded a little bit like a dying frog to boot. She flashed another smile and gave another carefully crafted titter before reaching her hand to touch the carafe of water on the table. Coincidentally, it was at the same moment Trinity did the same.

Their hands brushed past each other, her small calloused hand meeting his larger, softer one for just a moment as they each sought the glass. Azure felt a jolt up her arm, followed by the now-familiar burn of blood rising to her cheeks. She’d held his hand before, fingers intertwined as they entered an event or clasped gingerly in a dance. There was something foreign about touching him casually and without planning or forethought. Something she just hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. Every move had been executed with all intentions known from the start, every touch had purpose and use. The cheek kisses were marking territory and the hand holding was to keep her from getting lost in the sea of people. Linking arms was for showing her off to mothers with too many children and a hand on the small of her back or her hip was to keep the lechers off her when she wasn’t busy keeping the harpies off him.

It didn’t help much that if she wasn’t careful to know when she was about to have physical contact and what kind and for how long, it made her nigh-useless. Perry had one time accidentally snuck up on her-- she’d been distracted with something-- and began playing with her hair. She’d become so jumpy the rest of that day she’d needed a sedative from Pthalo to sleep. She didn’t want to know what that would do to her if it was Trinity, the way she’d been lately. She likely wouldn’t sleep for a week. Her productivity in the workshop would grind to a halt.

She glanced up at him, the strong jawline and the green eyes that beckoned her to never look away. She then immediately looked away, not wanting to broadcast her emotions on her face, and retracted her hand, nudging the carafe to his hand from the opposite side. She focused on everything but his hand, how smooth and soft she knew it was when it was laced with hers. The blush on her cheeks remained mild, nearly unnoticeable. Somewhere nearby someone told a joke, and she faked another laugh. Trinity poured her more water. She nodded in appreciation. She wanted to hold his hand. She’d probably get to later, on the way through the throngs of humanity to get to the car.

The thought soothed her, knowing that in the future she’d know exactly what would happen. The events always followed the same pattern, one that she could predict and plan for. She could fake this if she knew when it would happen, could swallow the leaping of her heart and the daydreaming. She might even be able to fake her way out of the feelings, train herself to never think about the implications of tucking her head neatly in the crook of his neck while they danced so she could whisper under the music, or the gentle smile he gave her to reassure her when she got nervous at the beginning of every dinner. She could ignore them and bury them until they died. She only saw Trinity once a month, maybe twice at absolute most if there was an update or maintenance he needed. Plenty of time in between to forget she’d ever had a feeling to begin with and return to that beloved state of platonic understanding.

She sipped her water, glancing at him again from the side, satisfied with her plan. As long as these things remained single nights at a time with space between, she could smother this feeling easily. Toss herself into work right afterwards every time. He hated these things still, and he’d never WANT to go to one overnight even if an opportunity did present itself. Yes, she thought, setting her glass down, I’m safe from that. Safe from seeing his face as he slept and witnessing him getting ready for bed. She could have shivered at the idea. That would throw a wrench in the whole thing.

Good thing she was absolutely certain she would never have to worry about it.

23. Never Too Late For A Disaster

“It’s an overnight trip. Four days, I think-- over a whole weekend.”

Azure could practically hear his gritted teeth and consternated expression through the phone. The phone call was strange enough on its own-- She and Trinity usually texted, or did a video chat. If they called, she was almost always the one to initiate it. She could hear his footsteps pacing back and forth as he continued. “And it’s important. I was asked to go to this one directly by my employer. He won’t be attending, but I have business to take care of.” That would explain the stress in his voice. “It shouldn’t be anything you have to worry about. Any danger we can handle. But… it’s also a couples only event, which is why I haven’t been before. I mean couples only in the sense of we’re going to be one of the few pairs there who aren’t engaged or married. Camilla and I have been together long enough to get invited, but…”

On the other end of the line, Trinity was struggling to find the right words. After all this time, he felt like he was right back at the beginning, asking his friend to go with him to one of these stupid things in the first place. It still felt a little like he was taking advantage of her kindness for some sort of overdone closeness that he was missing, using her friendship for something more. It itched at him, churning in his chest. “We’re going to have to sell it. More than usual.”

At the mere mention of an overnight trip, Azure’s mouth went dry. She found herself grateful that he’d called but wishing desperately he’d texted so that she had time to make a joke or something. She wanted so badly to not want to go, to laugh at it and tease him for not having a better option than her this whole time, but instead she was, of all the terrible terrible feelings in the world, excited.

And then he said they’d have to sell it, and she was worried again. About his reputation and her poor defenseless heart. She sighed, more exhausted than she intended to sound.

“We have no option, huh?” Her voice was clipped, pitched higher than usual. He recognized it: she was nervous as all hell. “Four days? As in overnight three times?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry. I can find a way around-- maybe I can still do it alone. Or I can find a way to handle my business besides on the cruise. He can’t argue if the work still gets done…”

Her dumbass heart still hadn’t gotten with the program her brain was trying to send out, and she spoke before she could think. “I mean listen, what’s a weekend cruise in the name of keepin’ your boss off your back?” The answer was the fact that she was now absolutely screwed and needed a new “get over Trinity before he figured her out and never spoke to her again” plan because this was not going to help. God, and it was a cruise? The thought of all that water made her cringe, knowing full well she’d be spooked half to death the whole time. But there was no way she could let him go it alone. There was resignation in her voice, tinged with something else. Frustration, maybe? “It’ll be fine, I’ll sit in your lap once or twice and pretend to plant one on ya or somethin’ and it’ll be squared away right as rain. If it’s all gooey couples they’ll be too busy thinking about each other to pay too much attention to us.”

“S-sure.” In his living room, Trinity finally managed to stop pacing, forcing himself to agree with her. He wasn’t about to objectify his friend just at the thought of spending a few nights together and cuddling a bit in public, he told himself sternly. He just hoped that somehow, maybe, there’d be two beds in whatever little suite they were given on the ship. Or at least a couch. “Well, if you’re sure… I’m sure your brother will be delighted to outfit us for that whole time. I’ll come to pick you up at the end of the week?”

Azure nearly dropped her receiver. That was not enough time for her to convince herself that this would not be a big deal. Her tongue felt like it took up her entire mouth. It was already Tuesday. “He loves a deadline. I’ll tell him to keep it kind of casual, I’m sure he’ll still find a way to expose my whole ass instead of just most of it to the entire boat anyway though.” She managed to inject her joke with the appropriate cheerful tone, but the idea of her being nearly naked in that high-fashion way and Trinity perceiving her with his real, actual eyes at the same time made her feel a sickly sweet sort of nervous. She had told him how she felt about the high slits her brother always cut into her gowns. It was a staple at this point, the signature that said it had been made especially for her. Crim claimed it made her look taller. She claimed he was an asshole. They were both right.

The bit about swimsuits caught Trinity off guard somehow, though it really should have been obvious. This was a cruise, and yes, that’s how swimsuits tended to work. And that’s what she was planning to sit on his lap with. No wonder she sounded nervous. She was leered at enough at these events, she must be worried about what people would do-- what even he might be thinking. He hated the idea of himself becoming part of the problem, making an already difficult situation even harder for his friend just because she was pretty. “Don’t worry. I’m the one who’s asking you to go, so I’m not going ask you to do anything that makes you any more uncomfortable. You can always borrow a shirt of mine if your brother’s designs are a little... too much.” Or too little.

She could hear him trying to be helpful, trying to reassure her in that practical way he did where he offered a solution to the problem he thought he was perceiving right as soon as he saw it. It would have worked, if that charming little solution didn’t make the war tattoo in her chest speed up even further, the battle between her heart wanting and her head screaming only getting more chaotic. His shirt. On her body. Probably with the fucking smell still on it? No, no thank you, she wanted to live at least another month or two.

“...Azzy?” She said nothing. Trinity cleared his throat. “Az? Are you still there?”

She squeaked, unaware she’d zoned out trying to remember that citrusy smell that hung around him. “Sorry, sorry, I was just tryin’ to think about how hard I should knock Crim on his ass if he makes even half an attempt at somethin’ nude ‘n sheer again,” she lied, “Thanks for the offer. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I see.” Trinity frowned-- he wasn’t completely convinced. Then again, it wasn’t really any of his business what she thought about when they didn’t have the comms in. Just because Azzy was a truly bad liar didn’t mean he had to call her on it every time, especially not when she was this nervous. She liked her privacy. No need to invade it further. “So… Thursday, then?”

“Sure thing. I’ll see you Thursday. L-”, She caught herself, cheeks flaring. Love you, bye was not the appropriate sign off. “-ater, bye!”

They hung up near simultaneously, and planets apart, rested their heads in their hands with twin groans. Somehow, they could both see the writing on the wall-- things were about to get a lot more complicated.

#wip: babylon #writeblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #chapter update

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jowritesthingss · 4 years

Text

a moment of relief

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): Loceit (Logan | Logic + Janus | Deceit), romantic or platonic

Rating: Teen (for some swearing)

Content Warning(s): unhealthy hyperfocusing, burnout, sickness, mild swearing, potentially dissociation?? (Lo kinda experiences it bc exhaustion, although he doesn’t put a name to it)

Length: 2,243 words

Brief Summary: Logan is hot. Janus is not.

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

It is hot in Logan’s room.

Blisteringly hot. Unbearingly hot. Unshakingly hot.

It’s the type of hot that slaps you on the face on a bright summer day. The type of burning hot that causes relentless sweatstains and heatstrokes, the type of sweltering heat that beckons for you to tear off your shirt like a buffoon. Normally Logan would not attribute such comparisons to something, but he has been working for so long that he is no longer certain that his brain actually works at all.

He has been working hard all day, all night, and all day again, with barely any breaks for dinner with the others, and none whatsoever to get any rest. Perhaps that is the reason why his thoughts feel like they are swimming through dense lava within the confines of his brain. Perhaps that is why he finds his tongue loosening, muttering aimless literary devices and frilly confessions aloud to himself that he would not typically be “caught dead” saying.

Perhaps that is why Logan can feel the incinerating effects of burnout licking all around the edges of his weary, frenzied figure.

And perhaps he should have caught on earlier—he usually does, and acts accordingly—but Thomas, bored to tears during quarantine, finally decided to listen to his endless requests that they take an online class or two (or ten). He can’t help it if, in his overenthusiastic hyperfocus, he tried to complete an entire month’s worth of coursework in the span of two days, can he?

A thudding sound interrupts the incessant scratching of his pen on paper. He barely pauses to look up and figure out the source of the sound. The door. Someone is knocking on his door.

Logan intends to shout at them to go away, that he is busy, but his tongue trips over itself, and an incoherent stream of babble makes its way out instead.

The knocking sound falls silent, and there is no response from whoever is on the other side of the door. They must have left. That is what Patton did, when he came to inquire about Logan missing breakfast that first day, and he hasn’t come back since. The same had been true when Roman banged on his door, whining about some simplistic problem in the Imagination, and for Virgil, who had quietly tapped on the door for some unknown reason at what Logan thought was two in the morning (or was it four? time always seemed to blur together that early in the morning, especially when he was figuratively “on a roll” like this).

Honestly, by now the others should know not to bother him when he’s like this. They so, so rarely listen to him, but! Thomas is listening to him now! Thomas is taking classes again now! He is learning more now! Logan must do his absolute best to ensure maximum learning potential is reached. He must do as much work as he can. He must, he must, he must.

“Well, isn’t this a delightful sight to see,” a voice drawls from behind Logan.

Logan whirls around in his seat, surprised, his fist clenching and snapping his pen in two. Dark blue ink cascades over his fingers, but he absent-mindedly wipes it off on a corner of his already-stained black polo, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he glares at whoever it is that dares interrupt his study session.

He squints around his bedroom, frowning at the somewhat...muted quality of it all, as if someone had slapped one of Roman’s ridiculous Instagram filters over it all. Is the blurriness caused by his eyesight failing, or is there a haze throughout the entirety of his room?

There, standing in the doorway of his now-grainy room, is someone dressed in all black, with a dash of yellow around the corners. A mismatched pair of eyes stares faux-casually at Logan where he sits at his desk.

Logan opens his mouth to speak. It takes him a few tries to get the wrods rout wight. “Ah, Janus.” He reaches to push his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, misses, pokes his forehead instead. He tries again and hits the left lens, but pushing that adequately situates the glasses further up on his nose, so aside from the smudged inky blue fingerprint now on the glass, he deems the result satisfactory.

“I must say, Logan, you’re looking quite well-rested,” Janus purrs.

Logan looks up at him, woozy. Janus...he...snake. Deceit. The backwards thing. The lie thing. Correct? “That....” He moistens his lips. Everything is so hot and dry and scratchy. He should ask Roman to snap him some chapstick after...after all this. “False...hood?”

Janus rolls his eyes. Watching his slitted, snakelike eye do that is surprisingly intriguing. Logan could—what is the phrase? He could figuratively get “lost” in that eye—in either of Janus’ eyes, really. All of the sides have the same eyes, but nevertheless, they’re just so fascinating on Janus.

Janus strides into the room, shutting the door behind him. Logan really should tell him to leave, but his tongue is too big in his mouth.

“Now, is there any particular reason you decided to experiment on sleep deprivation using yourself as a test subject?” Janus asks him, penetrating Logan with that intense gaze of his. Maybe it’s just the state he’s in, but gosh, Logan really likes that intense gaze. He wishes it would stay trained on him more often.

“The others are not worried in the least,” Janus says offhandedly. “You missed breakfast and lunch, and you turned them all away, so they sent me to...take care of you.” His expression is...Logan would dare to say it’s almost...lascivious. Dear lord, Logan hopes he doesn’t make that face around the others. They would melt. Is Logan melting?

“I am hot,” Logan abruptly announces.

Janus’ eyes dart down, running leisurely from Logan’s untied shoes up to his half-tucked-in shirt to mussed-up hair. Logan supposes he should feel embarrassed over his unkempt appearance, but the haze hovering in his room seems to have permeated his brain as well. Any embarrassment (or any other...feelings he should have, for that matter) seem strangely distant.

Janus looks Logan in the eye, heterochromatic brown and yellow matched with glazed brown. His forked tongue slithers out of his mouth, licking his lips, and for some reason Logan feels himself shudder at the sight. “Yes, you are hot.”

“I...that is what I just stated, yes.” Logan blinks owlishly at the snake-like side.

Wait.

Snake-like.

Snakes are cold-blooded. Cold. Cool.

Is Janus cold-blooded?

Well. There is only one way to find out isn’t there.

(Perhaps there are other ways, such as, just maybe, actually asking him, as Logan will later reflect. But in his current state of foggy disarray he can think of only one action moving forward.)

At some point he must have stood up. Logan doesn’t really remember. He makes use of this newfound state of existence, though, and he moves forward on rubbery legs. He crowds himself into Janus’ space, staring intently into the other side’s slitted yellow eye.

“Uh,” he hears Janus stammer. “This is a very, um, normal position. This isn’t strange at all.”

Logan raises his right hand, cupping the scaled side of Janus’ face with a sweaty palm.

The sweet soothing relief of something cool touching him is instantaneous. “Oh,” he mumbles, leaning still closer. “You...your skin is cool.”

“Of—of course. It’s not like I’m a cold-blooded snake or anything,” Janus chokes out, his expression extremely odd as he gapes at Logan.

“’s nice,” Logan assures him, mentally shoving away the instinct to collapse in the other side’s arms. He brings his other hand to cup the more human side of Janus’ face, pleased to find it alleviates the burning in his palms equally well.

Janus carefully pushes Logan an arm’s length away, and Logan fights the urge to whine at the loss of contact. Janus’ closely-guarded expression is as incinerating as Logan’s nerve endings feel—that is to say, very. However heated his expression may be, though, Janus’ skin is so nice and soft and cold, and Logan wants, but he mustn’t, he mustn’t—

Only...why has he been fighting that instinct, anyway? It sounds like such a nice idea....

Logan collapses forward onto the other side.

He feels Janus hastily throw up his arms, struggling to support the deadweight that is now Logan. A muted part of his brain supposes that this is not a good sign, but he is too overwhelmed by his senses screaming Janus, Janus, safe, cool, comfortable, sleep.

“Um—Logan—” A voice rumbles near his ear, his name absorbing through the heated skin of his neck. “Shit, you’re—heavy—uh.”

Through his rapidly tunnelling sense of self, Logan feels the cool surface he is resting on stagger, then he is being deposited on something soft. Something warm. And his source of cold has disappeared.

Quick, quiet footsteps echo through his ears, then the sound of a door opening and shutting.

A pathetic whine works its way out of Logan’s half-open mouth.

Time passes. He doesn’t know how much. All he knows is that his body is too leaden to move. The blood in his extremities is molten like magma, shimmering red underneath the surface. His head feels like it is about to erupt.

He cannot move, cannot drag himself off of the squishywarmhothothot surface he lies on, but he cannot sleep where he is, so scratchy and blazing and burning and uncomfortable.

Logan vaguely becomes aware of tears, slipping trails down his face, but they provide little relief, for they are just as salty and warm as the rest of himself is.

Eventually, the sound of a door opening and shutting crashes through his brain. He winces, trying to draw his hands up to cover his poor ears—but he’s not entirely sure if they actually make it up there or not. He’s not so sure he can control anything he does anymore.

Soft footsteps patter ever nearer, cutting through the crunchingscraping white noise of his head, and then two cool hands are gently re-positioning his body. A third hand delicately removes his glasses, a fourth rests itself against his cheek in an oddly familiar motion, a fifth and a sixth carefully place something on his forehead—something soft and—and cold.

Logan’s breath stutters out in a hiss, his eyelashes fluttering. Cool. Good. Feels good. Feels very nice. Very good.

“I’m sure it does,” a soft voice murmurs. “Here—drink.”

A pair of the arms gently hoists Logan up, leaning him against a pleasantly cool something—someone? A glass is pressed to his lips.

Grateful, Logan drinks.

The water is sweet and refreshing as it trickles down his throat, calming the raging of the rest of his body. He feels the closest to lucid that he has been in...in hours, at least. Possibly days. He isn’t exactly sure what time even is anymore, what it even means. It’s all made up anyways.

Logan’s eyes flutter open for a moment, but he sees nothing. At some point the lights must have been turned off, and his glasses are off.

Taking another gulp of the water, a corner of Logan’s mind notices an almost chalky aftertaste. Medicine, hopefully, something to help this fevered state. Remus has since learnt that the sides cannot be killed via poison, and if the person helping him is Roman, Logan doubts he would want to repeat the paint water incident of 2016.

Surely it must be medicine, for not long after he finishes drinking the water his brain starts to feel fuzzier once more.

Logan sags down, and whoever he leans against lets him. They—was—is it Janus? It has to be, he’s cool against Logan’s feverish skin, so deliciously cool and he’s always been so, so nice and pretty too—Janus carefully extricates himself from Logan’s weary body.

“N...no,” Logan moans, feeling his most welcome source of chill disappear away from him. He thinks he might reach out, grabbing for it again, but he feels nothing. “Come...come back. Please.”

A long, resigned sigh sounds from above where Logan lies. “Fine, fine,” the voice mutters. The phrasing makes it sound as though the words ought be said more reluctantly, but the tone of the voice saying it sounds more concerned and fond than anything else.

The surface Logan is lying on dips slightly—his bed, it must be his bed—and a cool body slides in behind him, wrapping pairs of arms securely around Logan’s waist, his chest, his neck. Were Logan coherent enough, the arms might feel suffocating, but as it is, their firm grip and the low temperature radiating off of them are strangely comforting.

“Logan.” A cooling breath of air blows into the back of his neck, and he squirms half-heartedly, loving the chill of it against his skin and love-hating the vague heat it curdles in his stomach.

In the morning they will wake, and they will discuss. Janus will turn the tables and lecture Logan about overworking himself. Logan will surprisingly discuss feelings—namely, that warmth in his stomach that lingers even as his fever dissipates. But that is for the morning.

For the moment, there is just the two of them and the now-receding, almost pleasant haze of Logan’s room and mind, just the two of them and their breaths huffing out as Janus whispers, “Sleep.”

Logan sleeps.

Fin

I’m not usually on the “Janus has six arms send tweet” train bc I’m more apt to believe it’s simply a visual effect Remus/the team used in that particular musical sequence, BUT I am jumping aboard for just this one-stop fic bc that means more hug for our poor boi Logan here. And our poor boi Logan here needs more hug.

Also uhhhhh...this is the very first Sanders Sides fic I’m posting, so plz be kind lol. Of course if you have any critiques I’d love to hear them too! ^^ Also, if there are any typos, let me know, cuz I have no friends and my stuff is almost always unbeta-ed. :P

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

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lynneshobbydomain · 4 years

Text

Vengeance Chapter 9

((Thank you so much once again for the reblogs and for the likes. Have a small interlude as we progress into getting heavier topics. We’re close to the point of no return ya’ll. Thank you again so much @sinfulwonders for betaing this chapter for me and for sticking around with me. I know that I’m asking a lot of you, and I wasn’t expecting the story to take me on the whirlwind that it’s decided to go on. I’m glad I get to travel with you))

Rated: M

Summary: Amateur Detective Shuichi Saihara knew that searching for the “Usual 16” wasn’t going to get him anywhere. The disappearances weren’t being tracked in any news outlet, and very few families even tried to come forward to ask for help, let alone to report them missing. Yet, Shuichi can’t shake off the feeling that there’s a reason behind the disappearances, and he’s close to the answer.He just didn’t realize that the answer was going to hit close to home, in more ways than one.

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Shuichi could feel his phone buzzing insistently in his pocket, threatening to numb his ass from all of the vibration as he could hear someone going off. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out to see that there was a texting conversation between the D.I.C.E members, which...baffled him. It was late at night, and most of them slept in the same house. If they were going to have a conversation, it would’ve been easier for them to just go down to the living room, turn on a T.V low and talk that way.

[ Shuffle: 《《o(≧◇≦)o》》Pancake Night! ]

“Oh.” Shuichi murmured to himself. He looked around his surroundings before he went up against the wall to get out of everyone else’s way if they were walking. The streets were still empty, and no one was out and about, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

Pancake night. It wasn’t a phrase he often saw since he was usually caught up in detective work. Aki didn’t usually go to them, but at the same time he didn’t know what her habits were at night. He knew how to tune out the smallest of sounds so that he could hyperfocus on whatever needed to be done. Whether it was cases or homework, or fighting on discord about whether or not his theories were correct or were false.

He knew what it was and what it meant.

He waited on baited breath to see if anyone was going to answer it. He glanced at the clock on his phone and pursed his lips when he saw that it was nearing three in the morning. No one was going to be up at this time, were they?

[ Honor: I’m up. I’ll come. ]

[ Deuce: I’m supposed to be on bedrest, but I’ll come. ]

[ Solo: Count me in as well, I can’t sleep. ]

Shuichi inwardly debated. He was heading home, but the diner wasn’t too far away from where he was either. He didn’t have an excuse as to not going, besides that he was socially anxious. He hadn’t really spoken to Takahashi since the kidnapping as well. A sinking sensation bloomed in his stomach and the guilt immediately hit. He didn’t mean to ignore him. Especially since Kokichi was having him watch the games.

[ Matador: I can come...if you want me to ]

[ Shuffle: Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ ]

Shuichi’s lips curled into a small smile, knowing that was all the approval he was going to get from her. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and adjusted Aki’s bag. He might as well go ahead and get going to the diner, rather than heading home. As long as he has her stuff, it’ll be alright. Besides, if he went home and dropped it off, he doubted he would go back out again.

The trains were already stopped for the night, and luckily Shuichi never minded walking anyway. The city was calmer when there were no people around. Easier to breathe in, easier to take in the sights like he was supposed to. The neon of the signs were blinding, bouncing off of the walls and reflecting off of asphalt, cars, and windows. There was a feeling of excitement, despite not being one for adventure or adrenaline. Shuichi supposed it was just how the city managed to ensnare people.

The diner was on the corner of an intersection with a red roof and wide open windows. It was easy to peer in and see who was all in there, and what they were doing. He could see the D.I.C.E members already crowded around a booth, a place already waiting for him if he so chose to walk through the doors.

He wiped his hands against his pant legs, feeling them sweat and shake out of nerves. He adjusted his hat and walked in. The smell of bacon and pancake batter hit him hard enough to make his stomach growl, reminding him that it had been a long time since dinner that he ate anything.

“Shuichi-chan-san!” Shuffle greeted widely and Shuichi immediately felt overdressed.

Everyone was in some sort of style of pajamas. Whether they were wearing a t-shirt with flannel, or an entire get up that was too cutesy for his taste, they didn’t seem to care or mind that they were in public. What was also a little funny was that everyone had some sort of bedhead to match. Shuffle’s hair was barely in her pigtails, the flyaway ends were all over the place. Shuichi knew his cowlick was bad, but it wasn’t being compared to Takahashi’s right side of his hair sticking up right and smashed.

Out of all of them, Shuichi knew that he looked better dressed since he was still in his day clothes, and he was wearing a hat over his eyes. He walked over to the booth and slipped in, everyone scooting and adjusting so that he had plenty of space. He set the bag down and rested it against his feet so that he wouldn’t forget it when it was time to leave.

“We already ordered a double stack of pancakes, Saihara-kun.” Takahashi spoke, his voice low and drowsy. “So unless you want something else, you’re covered.”

“Ah uh thank you.” Shuichi pursed his lips together. “Um...are you okay, Fujiko-san?”

“I was just lonely.” Shuffle answered, though her voice didn’t match the smile. Everyone was giving her a look and her smile slipped off of her face. “I…”

“Pancake night.” Deuce said, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes. “Is a sacred hang out where we’re supposed to not be okay.”

Honor nodded firmly, leaning forward with his elbows resting against the table’s surface. He was eyeing Shuffle as though he could get her to talk by getting into her personal space. Shuichi watched as she shrunk. “So, what’s going on?”

“It’s just…” Shuffle thought for a moment and Shuichi wondered if it was going to be about Aki. Was it going to be about how much they all missed her? Shuichi wasn’t sure he could stick around for something like that. “Is anyone else worried about Ouma-sama-san?”

The silence fell hard and Shuichi felt lost. He spoke to Kokichi just the other day but...it had been a weird encounter now that he thought about it. Kokichi did like to have sex, it wasn’t that new. It was the way that it happened, it was how...weird the timing had been. Now that he thought about it, Loki signed off that day saying that he was going to go hang out with his boyfriend.

Shuichi looked around the table, each of them wearing a face of guilt and of thoughtfulness. Everyone was racking their minds about what Kokichi was going through, and how much he might’ve changed. Guilt started to gnaw at Shuichi’s stomach. He hadn’t been paying attention, if they were the ones to catch it first hand.

“Aki-chan’s disappearance hit him hard.” Deuce said after a moment. His words were careful, measured. He glanced over at Shuichi, and looked away. Shuichi couldn’t help but to feel cold. “I...get why.”

“I feel like it doesn’t have anything to do with that though.” Shuffle frowned. “Like, I feel like he’s restless. Impatient. Like he’s waiting for something to happen and he has to wait for it to happen.”

“Powerless isn’t exactly Kokichi’s way of handling things.” Honor said slowly, “Just like it’s not ours.”

“It has something to do with the email, doesn’t it?” Takahashi asked, and everyone froze. Shuichi turned and looked over at him. Takahashi was playing around with the utensil wrapper, folding and re-folded it until it was starting to fall apart in his fingers. “I tried to track the I.P address, but...whoever’s behind it aren’t amateurs. I’m not that good of a hacker.”

“So he’s going to try a different route then…” Shuichi shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the thought.

Takahashi could only shrug in response.

“I’m not going to be surprised if he’s going to ask us to break in and enter a random building any time soon, but I am thinking about offering it first before he can come up with a plan.” Shuffle admitted. “We haven’t been hopping lately.”

“Hopping?” Shuichi echoed.

“Going from one abandoned building to the next. You came with us once. Chi-chan forced you to come, remember?” Shuffle asked, tilting his head.

It wasn’t like he was going to forget that moment any time soon. The nerves about going trespassing had nearly made him want to pass out all on it’s own. He wanted to impress Kokichi and show that he could be apart of something amazing, but he also wanted to tuck tail and run away as fast as he possibly could.

He was...kind of grateful that he had stayed. It was the first time he learned that D.I.C.E weren’t just pranksters, vandalizers and petty thieves. Shuffle and Trick showed off that they were called that for more than just the card theme. They knew how to break dance and it had been incredible to watch them tear the floor.

It was the first time he watched Kokichi be the king that he always claimed to be. He had the highest vantage point. He usually was up on cabinets, he would find tables and stack a chair on it if he could. He would find a way up into the rafters, wherever he was going to be, he was high above everyone, just so he can make a grand entrance.

He remembered when Kokichi jumped from the rafters in front of him. How Kokichi’s smile was sharp and wide, like a predator who found his prey. Shuichi had shrunk in his gaze, unable to meet it, but feeling the excitement in his heart, the butterflies in his stomach twisted and fluttered uncomfortably.

D.I.C.E were comfortable in the night, hiding in the shadows. They ruled it comfortably, knowing the fastest routes to get out of any danger. Kokichi was smooth enough to talk their way out of any sort of danger, but he was also clever enough to have a few backup plans. Not all of them were told. Some of them were just made right on the spot and Shuichi felt weak just watching him work.

“It’s not going to be a good distraction, but it might help.” Deuce said slowly. “I mean, he has a lot on his plate, keeping me and Trick on the down low. I keep telling him that he doesn’t have to hide us, that our parents aren’t going to be looking, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. I heard him talking to you about it.”

Shuffle let out a low noise, “I’m just sad.” She said quietly and Shuichi could hear her kick the booth. “You know? I just...I don’t know what to do with Ouma-sama-san. I don’t know how to help with Chi-chan. I feel lost.”

“Just be you.” Honor said after a moment, and Shuichi nodded his agreement. There was really nothing that she could do.

“I want to offer to look at those emails.” Shuffle admitted, “I want to...do something. I know that he’s watching something on the laptop. I see him sometimes in the living room, with the headphones on, just staring at the computer. Biting his thumb.”

“Offer to sit with him.” Honor advised, but Shuichi felt his heart sink.

It was an idea if Kokichi wasn’t watching what he thought he was watching. “Uh,” Shuichi cleared his throat as all the attention was once more on him. He wanted to melt underneath the table and disappear for a week. “I-I think you should let him be. Offer him company yeah, but don’t be surprised if he uh if he decides that he wants to be alone.”

“I guess that’s fair. It’s probably a coping mechanism.” Shuffle slumped. “I just...want to do something.”

No one knew how to respond to that. Shuichi felt sympathetic towards her. “We’ll get him out of the house.” Honor finally said gently, and the rest of D.I.C.E nodded. “We’ll get Saihara-kun to come with us too.”

“Ah uh why?!” Shuichi blinked, a little taken aback that he was suddenly thrown into this conversation.

“Because you’re not doing well either.” Takahashi said bluntly, staring at Shuichi. “We don’t talk much at school, and perhaps that’s my fault, Saihara-kun. But lately you’ve been distant, not yourself. You usually get like that when you’re on a case, but you bounce back. This time, it feels like you're far away. Ouma-kun’s mentioned it to us before.”

Deuce’s voice immediately went shrill. “Shuichi-chan doesn’t love me anymore! He’s not affectionate like he used to be!” He looked at Shuichi. “Okay so I’m being a little overly dramatic. I know that he broke into your house and got all hot and heavy-”

“He’s not ashamed of showing off his scratches.” Takahashi explained as Shuichi felt his cheeks burn and flush down his neck. He could feel a cold sweat on his forehead and he adjusted his hat, trying to hide away from this conversation. Of course Kokichi wouldn’t be ashamed about their exploits. Hell, Aki’s made a dry comment or two when she caught a hickey.

“-But that is so beside the point. I think you two need to just...do something to get your mind off of things.” Deuce continued, as though Takahashi hadn’t said a word. “It’s not good for either of you to continue the way that you are. So come hopping with us. We’ll find a good building, we’ll have a party, it’ll be great.”

“Throw in some good music and a bunch of food and we got ourselves a deal.” Shuffle beamed. “Right, Shuichi-chan-san?!”

“I don’t really...I’m not…” Shuichi shook his head. “I’m not much of a party person, you guys know this.”

“So stick to the wall.” Deuce shrugged. “Stay in the shadows. Watch Ouma-kun be weird as hell and love him from afar. God knows he’s going to pull you out and do something with you when he thinks you’re being boring anyway.”

Shuffle grinned, “It’ll be fun.”

“It’ll be torture.” Shuichi sighed but he nodded his head, reluctantly. “Alright, I guess I’ll go. Only if he comes.”

“Sounds like a deal. Now how the hell are we going to convince Ouma-sama-san to do something crazy with us?” Shuffle mused.

“We use Saihara-kun against him the same way Saihara-kun used Ouma-kun against us.” Deuce replied, as though he was saying “duh”.

Shuichi was never glad to see a stack of pancakes appear before them and have the conversation drop into a different conversation of where they should start to look for buildings, and what type of building they should go for.

Shuichi left Pancake Night with a top 3 weird list of abandoned buildings to look at.

The door was unlocked and Shuichi’s heart pounded in his chest as he slowly let the door creak open. The foyer was still dark, as well as the living room and the kitchen. He could hear soft snoring coming from down the hall and he knew that his aunt and uncle were still asleep. That being said, Shuichi was certain that he had locked the door behind him when he went out. He slipped his shoes off and adjusted the backpack on his shoulder. He locked the door behind him before going all the way in.

The morning light was starting to break through the horizon, pushing the shadows back into corners and lighting up the room in a golden light. He could hear the birds starting to wake up from their perch, and the traffic starting to gain speed and frequency outside. Noises to indicate that people were starting to wake up from their sleep.

Shuichi threaded over towards the phone where the pad of paper was, and saw that his note had been ripped from the pad. Someone must have woken up in the middle of the night and saw that Shuichi had left the house. He hadn’t meant to leave for so long, but he did assure in his note that he had his phone on him. Worried, he quickly took it out from his pocket and checked to see if he missed anything. There weren’t any new calls nor were there any texts.

Maybe he had been careless, or maybe his aunt or his uncle had sleepily thought that Shuichi might’ve forgotten his keys and unlocked the door that way, but he wasn’t too certain about it. He crept towards his room and slowly pushed the door open, only to breathe a sigh of relief.

Kokichi was sitting on his bed, holding a pillow against his stomach. He was fighting to keep his eyes open. He wore a light purple crop top and pink and lime green boxers. His clothes were strewn all over the floor, like normal. Shuichi noticed that there were a couple of days worth that were on his floor. He wouldn’t doubt that if he looked in the bathroom he would find a toothbrush and some of Kokichi’s toiletries.

His parents must be home. With Deuce and Trick taking up so much space in the house, Kokichi must have decided to just stick with going to him and staying the weekend. He didn’t doubt that he might bounce around and go to Takahashi’s place as well since Takahashi rarely lived with his parents. “Hey beloved.” Kokichi murmured sleepily. “How was Pancake Night?”

“Stressful.” Shuichi answered as he carefully set the backpack in his chair. He walked over towards his closet and started to get ready for bed, feeling fatigue roll over his body like a heavy blanket, trying to coax him to sleep. “What are you doing here?”

“Came over to bother you, saw you were gone. Saw that you went to Pancake Night.” Kokcihi replied, his voice sorophific and inviting.

Shuichi felt his lips curve into a smile as he changed into his night clothes, not caring that the daylight was attempting to break through his window. He sat down next to his boyfriend and leaned his head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent and letting the tension in his shoulders drop. Kokichi scooted as close as he could against Shuichi and curled into him, still relaxing against the pillow.

Pancake Night still echoed in Shuichi’s mind, but they were too tired for that kind of conversation. He let his fingers trail down Kokichi’s back, gently stroking his skin and the fabric of his crop top. He finally maneuvered Kokichi to lay down, taking the pillow and putting it underneath his head before following the suit, tossing the blankets over them.

Shuichi moved so that he was spooning Kokichi, wrapping his arm around his waist and bringing him close towards his body. He kissed Kokichi’s neck and he could hear the D.I.C.E leader laugh softly. “When we wake up,” Shuchi said quietly. “I wanna talk to you.”

“Hmm.” Kokichi murmured softly. “Hey, Shuichi-chan?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re weird.”

Shuichi spluttered a laugh and he tucked his nose against Kokichi’s neck. “Good night, Kokichi-kun.”

“Good morning beloved.”

Shuichi felt something against his forehead and he knew that if he opened his eyes one of two things were going to happen. Either he was going to wake up in the middle of a doodling fest on his face again, or he was going to wake up to Kokichi’s forehead being pressed against his, trying to startle him awake. It wasn’t all the time that Kokichi would try to scare him awake, but it was a favorite method of his to use. The ice cubes were a dirty trick and they both knew it.

“Awww man.” Kokichi pouted when Shucihi’s eyes fluttered open and he just smiled. “Here I thought you were going to try to headbutt me.”

“Sorry. I guess I wasn’t all that tired enough for you to scare me.” Shuichi offered. “How long have you been awake?”

“All morning. Sheesh, Shuichi-chan, you sure sleep a lot don’t you? I woke up right at the crack of dawn!”

“That’s a bold-faced lie, I came home at the crack of dawn.” Shuichi gently flicked Kokichi’s shoulder and Kokichi rolled off, pouting as though he just got pinched.

“You’re being mean to me!” Kokichi whined. “I didn’t do anything to you yet.”

“Yet.” Shuichi repeated, amused and in love and...his smile faded as he really took in Kokichi. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I slept just fine, thanks.”

“I thought you hate lies and jokes.” Shuichi said slowly and he watched Kokichi’s face go neutral and blank. Shuichi was worried. Shuffle hadn’t been wrong to be concerned. Kokichi’s wide eyes were a little narrow with sleep and fatigue. Even though he was hyperactive, there wasn’t the same dramatic flair to his actions. If Kokichi was really in the mood to prank Shuichi awake, he would have done something new, not something that became a little bit of an inside joke to them.

It troubled him. “Shuffle-chan...asked for Pancake Night.” Shuichi said cautiously. Kokichi was unpredictable when it came to confrontation. He could either back down and stay silent, or he would lash out and run away. Kokichi wasn’t much of a fighter, and neither was Shuichi for that matter. He hoped that this wouldn’t turn into one. “We talked about you.”

“I figured.” Kokichi subconsciously bit at his thumb nail. “I’m a terrible leader for letting my subordinates get worried about me like that.”

“I think you’re a wonderful leader, which is why they are worried like that.” Shuichi said slowly, “Is...is it about Aki-chan? About Deuce-kun and Trick-kun?”

“It’s not important.” Kokichi said, with a soft sigh. He looked at Shuichi and usually it was the kind of look that would get Shuichi to drop the subject. Kokichi didn’t open up because someone asked questions. He opened up because someone accepted him and he wanted to talk. Shuichi knew that him trying to pry wasn’t going to help here. “But I appreciate that you worry, beloved.” Shuichi felt his hand being squeezed and he looked back to see Kokichi had gotten back on the bed, sitting close to him. “I’m just sorry that I made you sick with worry.”

Shuichi doubted that he was going to get more from him about what was going on. He doubted that he could press about it. Instead, he decided to change tactics. “They were talking about going hopping.”

Kokichi blinked and he pressed his finger against his cheek. “Just because I’m feeling down?”

“So you are feeling something.”

“I’m feeling a lukewarm sense of affection, but I’m pretty sure that’s just because the sun’s hitting me.” Kokichi replied as he dived into Shuichi’s arms, laying on his lap. “So I better soak it up now.”

“Haha.” Shuichi snickered a little as he threaded his fingers through Kokichi’s hair. “So you like that idea then. To go hopping.”

“Are you going to be there?” Kokichi asked, turning around so that he could stare up at Shuichi upside down. He reached up and cupped Shuichi’s cheek, rubbing against the skin with his thumb. “If you are I might go.”

A part of him really wanted to say no. Parties weren’t his thing and with this case and Aki being in a killing game, it felt wrong. It felt irresponsible. He had so much that he needed to do, and yet he also knew that Aki would’ve told him to go. She would shove him out the door, and try to get him to talk to someone. Widow would join him at the wall, Aki would attempt to keep up with Shuffle and maybe get dragged into a ballroom dance with Takahashi. Shuichi would watch Kokichi come towards him, dramatic and foreboding, dancing around with words and playful banter rather than music and steps.

It just didn’t feel right to have fun when she was in a game that wasn’t. It didn’t feel right to be able to do something, when she couldn’t.

But he also knew the world didn’t stop for anyone. Not for her and not for him.

“Do you want me there?” Shuichi finally asked, keeping his voice steady.

“Would I ever not want you by my side?” Kokichi replied easily. “You wound me, Shuichi-chan.”

“Then I’ll come.”

“Good.”

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