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eoieopda · 11 months

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menace (pjm) — pt. vi

Pairing: Park Jimin x Kim!Reader Type: 6/6 (Mini Series) ⇢ Previous Chapter | Masterlist Genre: Smut + Fluff Rating: M (18+) Word Count: 6k+ Summary: This Valentine’s Day looks a lot different than the last one. AUs: Older brother’s best friend, fuck buddies that hate(d) each other CW: Reader is AFAB & queer, Jimin is so soft omg, ✨vulnerability✨, so much kissing wtf who am i?, nipple play, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), DID I SAY SOFTNESS? A/N: Thank youuuuuu to everyone that stuck with me and these two idiots until the very end 💕 If you get lonely now that this is over, check out the rest of my masterlist. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

It was odd, starting over with someone you’d known longer than nearly everyone else in your life. Jimin wasn’t a stranger by any means; he’d always been present, life running parallel to yours, but you’d never truly seen him up close.

Not accurately, anyway.

When you were younger, the pedestal you put him on kept the sun in your eyes. You’d have to squint to see his shortcomings, but you never did. Maybe that was one of yours, willful blindness. As far as you knew then — or, rather, as far as you bothered to look — Jimin had none. All he had was a bright, white light.

After that pedestal crumbled and Icarus took a swan-dive to the sub-basement of your expectations, the shadows down there warped the flaws you finally recognized. A trick of the light, they exaggerated every shitty thing you thought you saw and made them all worse. Scarier, even. Worth hating.

Once you finally allowed him to exist on equal footing, you realized that Jimin wasn’t made to be viewed in such high contrast. He wasn’t the monochromatic figure you’d mythologized, not two-dimensional. In reality, he was a prism refracting a thousand different, complicated colors that you hadn’t been giving him due credit for.

The first shade you discovered was the one that broke your brain the most. Jimin — the only person you knew that never responded to anyone’s calls or texts — wasn’t actually as solitary as he seemed. Really, the only thing he hated more than being by himself was having to admit that fact to anyone, especially you.

So, instead of calling to invite you along on his errand runs, he started showing up at your door to ask, “You’re not busy right now, are you?”

And just like that, without meaning to, you learned his routine. Another shade.

Every other Sunday, you’d wake up a little earlier than usual. No matter how tired or hungover you were, you would crawl out of your bed, into your well-functioning shower, and make yourself presentable. Then, when you no longer looked like a hobgoblin, you’d sit on your couch with your tea.

None of it was a conscious decision — waiting in the nearest seat to your front door, angling yourself so you could keep an eye on the driveway — at least, not at first. In fact, you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your newly-acquired therapist pointed it out.

“It sounds like you’re making space in your life for him, brick by brick.”

You laughed it off when she said it, but as weeks flew by, you finally had to concede that she was right. She was right about something else, too: you hadn’t been viewing yourself fairly, either.

“Cellophane can be iridescent, too, if you hold it right.”

Whatever shades of your own that you uncovered, you gradually learned to let Jimin see, too. He picked up on all of your intricacies much faster than you did — because of course he did — and unlike you, he didn’t stumble upon revelations by surprise. He didn’t muddle through your less-pretty shades by trial and error, like you did. To the contrary, he had an unexpected knack for anticipating your reactions, and he planned accordingly.

Everything he did was purposeful, from his choice of words to his actions. Like exhuming his phone from his pocket — “only because it’s you” — to let you know if he was running late to plans you’d made. It was rare that he didn’t show up on time, but whenever he couldn’t, he’d call to promise that he really was on his way. And he always was, no matter how shitty the weather was, or how much he might’ve wanted an extra hour of sleep.

Jimin and all his shades showed up for you.

On Christmas, when Seokjin’s part-time girlfriend threw a dinner party without knowing what the fuck she’d signed up for. You were three-quarters through a bottle of wine before you were pulled in to take over meal preparations with Seokjin; and although Jimin was mostly useless in front of a stove, he was good at fetching whatever you’d need next without you having to point to it. He was even better at keeping your respective glasses full, which felt even more important. Washing dishes after the fact wasn’t all that bad with him there, also drunk off his face, drying them.

On New Years’ Eve, when Jimin was too sick to join the bar crawl but still set an alarm to wake up and call you — right at midnight. You stepped out onto a snow-slicked sidewalk in order to hear him, disappointing the hell out of the girl whose lips wanted to kiss you into the new year. You ignored her pout, ignored the chill in the air, and focused on the way Jimin’s raspy voice had dropped an octave. He was asleep when you swung by shortly after with a box of tissues and a bottle of decongestants, but that didn’t matter; his spare key wasn’t well hidden, either.

And again — now — on Valentine’s Day, when you both decided to blow off Seokjin’s deranged, annual Parent Trap scenario.

Sprawled out on his couch like you owned the place, you scrolled idly through Netflix’s home page with your face scrunched. The hand not holding the remote dipped down into the bag of kkokalcorn chips resting on your chest.

“You’ve got an identity crisis in your watch history, Jimin,” you yelled out to him, hoping he’d hear your teasing clearly from where he stood in his kitchen. “I’m having trouble believing that you’re not actually a middle-aged white woman.”

At this, he stopped rummaging through his refrigerator and stood straight up to glare at you. His eyes and mouth all flattened into matching, straight lines.

You rattled off your findings, nudging him further. “The Notebook, Sleepless in Seattle —”

With every title you dropped, so did one of Jimin’s heavy footfalls. He was halfway to you, scowl growing, in the blink of an eye.

“10 Things I Hate About You?” You snorted. “Little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Standing at the other side of his coffee table, he parked his hands on his hips and scoffed. “My choices are being criticized by an entire adult with corn-chip witch fingers? Are you kidding?”

Sheepishly, you pulled your hand from the kkokalcorn bag. He was correct; you had stuck your fingertips in the openings of the funnel-shaped chips. You wiggled them at him with a coy smile that made him roll his eyes. Satisfied, your mouth claimed the chip perched on the tip of your index finger.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the flash in his eyes just then was fondness.

You held the bag out to him, careful not to disrupt the rest of your manicure, and smiled to yourself when he accepted your offer. He tilted the bag and dumped a few of the chips into his open palm. With a small smile, he mused, “Haven’t had these since we were kids.”

That wave of nostalgia must have caught him in a riptide because he went quiet in a way that made you pause. You were about to speak up — to say what, you weren’t sure — but you promptly shut your mouth. Index and middle fingers now extended, he held out his hand to make a peace sign. Each fingertip had a small cone sitting crooked on top.

Jimin laughed unexpectedly, which almost made his already-crinkled eyes disappear completely. “Kinda look like little wizards.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the thumping in your chest just then was fondness.

After shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you realized that the little wizards weren’t holding the glass of hard cider he’d gone to his kitchen to refill. You pushed yourself to your feet with one hand and a playfully exaggerated groan, popping the remaining chips from your fingers into your mouth at once.

“Leaving already?”

He should’ve known better than to ask you a question while your mouth was full, but he didn’t. The explanation he received was therefore unintelligible. Head cocked curiously to the side, lips slightly parted, he tried to connect the dots. Just as soon as he started, he gave up and trailed after you.

Jimin didn’t stop until you did, right in front of his refrigerator. He was so close, in fact, that you accidentally hit him with the door as you pulled it open.

“Oh, shit!” You muttered, shutting the door again quickly.

Wincing, your gaze flitted over to assess the damage you’d done to the outside of his bicep with the metal corner of the door. On instinct, you reached out to run the pads of your fingers over the faint red mark blooming there. Goosebumps spread in the wake of your touch, but you didn’t feel that same phantom chill. Just something electric that sparked against your fingertips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said gently. “I don’t bruise like you do.”

In the moment of silence that followed, you felt compelled to lift your eyes but not your hand. Unless you were imagining things, he leaned into your touch, just slightly. Not enough to see, but enough to feel.

It’d crossed your mind a thousand times since you walked through his front door. With that throwaway statement, Jimin confirmed he’d been thinking about it, too — about who you both were on this date last year. About the way you’d only ever let him treat you roughly because anything sweeter threatened the distance you were trying to keep. About the bruises given with no chance to kiss them better.

You weren’t that person anymore, and neither was he.

“Jimin,” you started.

It was the farthest along in your sentence that your voice would let you go.

After the million baby steps you’d taken in his direction and the healing you’d allow yourself to do, you were still scared to show your cards. Now, you’d seen him in technicolor. Now, if you fucked things up, you’d never be able to go back to black and white.

What if you fuck things up again?

Jimin sensed your hesitation, but he didn’t accept it. Instead, he closed the distance so slowly that your hand wasn’t disrupted from where it rested on his bicep. His hands found you just as easily. One made its home at the small of your back while the other cupped the side of your face.

With a whisper lighter than air, he asked, “If I kiss you, will you let me?”

His eyes flitted from yours, to your lips, then back again.

“Or will you kamikaze dive into my kitchen table?”

Your reply was even softer than the question posed. “Only one way to find out.”

If the uptick at the corner of his lips told you anything, it was that he intended to.

Cautiously, as if sudden moves would startle you, he pulled your body flush against his. His other hand tilted your face upwards, thumb gently tucked under your chin while the rest of his fingers rested in the space just below your ear. His touch kept your body present even when the sensation of his kiss threatened to sweep your feet out from underneath you.

Plush pink and delicate, his lips molded to yours like they were specially designed to do just that. Like cracks giving way to let the light in, you opened yourself up for him. Licked into his mouth, eager to learn the parts of him you’d missed in all the time you’d shut him out.

And if you listened — really listened, over the moan he swallowed from you — you could’ve sworn you heard all the silly pages of your childhood diary flipping furiously. Scribbled to hell and back with a glitter gel pen, each one noting that this is what you wanted, this is what you wanted, this is everything you wanted.

The eternity in that kiss wasn’t long enough. Eventually, he broke the contact, pulling a disagreeing gasp from you when he pulled away. Your lips buzzed from the sudden loss of pressure — that, or they trembled without the warmth of his mouth. Either way, he was gone too soon.

The hand you had resting against his bicep slipped down to the center of his chest to tug at the fabric of his t-shirt. Unable to nip that growing neediness in the bud, you frowned.

“Jimin,” you sighed. You had nothing to follow-up with. His name was the totality of that thought.

Several moments of silence came next. His brow furrowed, like he was trying and failing to find something less vulnerable to say. He couldn’t. When it slipped out, his eyes searched your face for a reaction.

“I want to be soft with you.”

Any time you’d been together before, it was carnal, dripping with unarticulated hurt. He didn’t want that, not this time. You didn’t have to guess why.

Though the level of desperation you both felt now was familiar, the underscore had changed. Jimin wanted to touch you carefully because he felt fragile — so did you. If either of you moved too quickly, too roughly, you ran the risk of upending the balance you’d found. Like you, Jimin seemed to know that this was delicate.

You lifted your hand from his shirt and placed it on top of his where it sat above your jaw. Gently, your fingers wrapped around his and lowered them so you could intertwine them properly. Then, without a word and without letting go, you led him out of the kitchen into the small hallway.

This was the first time you’d crossed his house without sprinting and violently shedding your clothes as you went. It felt like you were seeing it all for the first time because, in a way, you were.

You’d never noticed the framed photos lining the walls of the hallway, or the subtle notes of grey in the white paint behind them. In all the time you’d spent there before, it’d never clicked that this house was a home. Everywhere, there were hints of him — his interests, his achievements, the friends you’d never met — sitting so blatantly in places you’d previously ignored.

Jimin apologized when you stepped over the threshold into his bedroom. “My plan was to clean it tomorrow.”

He smiled sheepishly as his free hand carded through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Doesn’t do you any good today, though.”

“I don’t mind,” you hummed in reply, shutting the door slowly behind him. “My plan was to do laundry today, and — well, you’ll see how that worked out for me.”

You kept your fingers interlocked with his while you surveyed his room. Like the rest of the house, you’d been in there countless times before without truly seeing any of it. Apart from the bare minimum clutter he’d needlessly apologized for, every surface was thoughtfully decorated. Even the absence of some keepsake or trinket on his shelf was purposeful.

He keeps space.

Propped on a stand near his dresser was his guitar, which you didn’t even know he still played. Of course he does, you thought, he’d have been an idiot to throw that talent away.

You were smiling long before you noticed you were doing it, even more so when you clocked where it sat. Just like it did in his childhood home, the guitar was positioned directly across the room from his doorway — the first and last thing he’d see when he came and left.

Carefully, you reached out and trailed one finger over the tuning pegs. It all felt forbidden, but stupidly, you felt compelled. You spent a lifetime aching to touch him. For reasons you couldn’t explain, his guitar was no different.

Watching you caress his guitar made his pulse race harder; you could feel it where your wrist aligned with his. If nothing else had changed, you suspected that he still didn’t let anyone lay a finger on it. Jimin always insisted that he did all the maintenance himself because he didn’t trust the technician at the local music shop to be careful enough.

To your surprise, it didn’t appear to be anxiety spinning circles in his stomach as he watched you. He spun you around, and it was clear from the look in his eye — the unshakeable desire he felt to touch you that same way.

You wondered what he was thinking while he studied your face in silence — if the months he’d spent trying to teach himself to hate it had blurred your features; and if he saw them clearly now.

The smattering of freckles across the bridge of your nose which swept over the tops of your cheekbones — even though it was winter, and you hadn’t seen much of the sun for weeks.

The small scar interrupting your eyebrow, which you’d gotten when both of your families went camping together a million years ago. He’d sprinted across tide pools to help you back to your feet, reaching you long before Seokjin could catch up.

You didn’t know if it was a conscious decision now, but he leaned down and placed a kiss there the way you wished he had back then.

“This isn’t still illegal, is it?” He murmured against your skin.

Unable to breathe, let alone speak, you shook your head so subtly that it couldn’t reasonably be counted as movement. Your next move was bolder, though: You unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugged your way out of it, and let it fall at your feet.

With a quick glance down, you remembered what you were wearing and cringed with your whole body.

Neither of your socks matched; your sweatpants had a hole near the crotch; and your sweatshirt’s sole task had been to hide the ratty, old MapleStory t-shirt that you stole from Seokjin when he went off to college.

A certifiable mess in a self-imposed dry spell.

Jesus Christ.

“Laundry day,” you blurted out in explanation, though he hadn’t asked. He wasn’t laughing, either — not reacting in any way to roast you the way you expected him to. Still, the tips of your nose and ears burned with embarrassment. “I didn’t plan for… this.”

His index finger dipped under the hem of your t-shirt and his thumb mirrored the way it traced the stitching.

“I kind of forgot that you own shit like this.” He replied softly, looking more pensive than usual. “Never see you in sweats.”

It was a fair point.

Jimin had slept next to you on three occasions — when the rules permitted — and you always woke up the same way you’d fallen asleep: completely naked. Somehow, it felt even more intimate for him to see what you wore when you went to bed without him. The silly, branded t-shirt probably said more about you than your bare chest did.

You realized that you’d never seen him in his current state before, either, with black joggers hanging low on his hips. His fluffy, air-dried hair didn’t sit smoothly the way it normally did. You wanted so badly to run your fingers through it, but there was a stronger compulsion to reckon with:

His shirt was ripped at the hem, not quite covering the lower inches of his torso.

Unthinkingly, your hand reached out so your fingers could rest against the skin there, midway down faint the trail of hair that dipped under the waistband of his pants. So much warmer than you, he shivered at your touch. You paused, self-conscious, then glanced up at him with eyebrows raised.

Is this okay?

You didn’t have to ask out loud to get an answer. It came as a whisper — “cold hands” — and it was accompanied by a smile that made your knees weak.

He nodded towards the other side of his room and said, “C’mere.”

The hand that previously held yours found it again. Fingers slipping easily into the spaces between yours, he led and you followed.

The crisply folded sheets contrasted completely with the effortless coziness of the rest of the space, but they didn’t stay that way for long. With his free hand, Jimin gripped the comforter and tugged it loose. It fluttered and fell freely back down over the bed.

Sighing reflexively, you slipped into the opening he’d created within the blankets. Every fiber smelled like him — clementine flower, orange blossom, water lily and orris — and now, so would you.

Jimin waited for you to scoot over before filling the space next to you, tilting his body inward to keep his eyes on you. His bent knee pressed against your outer thigh. It was chaste, especially when you considered the thousand other ways he’d touched you, but it had you vibrating in place, nonetheless. He probably felt it when he leaned in and kissed you for the third time, fingers sliding into your hair.

Tangled in him, your intrusive thought won out. Loose, it flew like a ping-pong ball around the inside of your skull: He can probably feel all that dry-shampoo, too.

Like he was begging you to focus, the tip of his tongue flicked across your bottom lip and stole a whimper. Your lips parted eagerly against his to accommodate him; both of you starving for every bit of tenderness you’d refused to let him give before.

As he poured more of himself into that kiss, the hand in your hair ran slowly down the length of your neck, over the slope of your shoulder, and down the curve of your torso. It stopped on the top of your thigh, warming you through to your bones. For the first time, his fingers didn’t dig harshly into the doughy flesh he found there. Now, his feather-light touch left you buzzing instead of bruised.

With every second that passed, your tingling spine struggled more and more to hold you upright. Noting the slight shift in your posture, Jimin guided you — still lip-locked — to rest your head on his pillows. It wasn’t until you tilted your head slightly to the side that his lips left yours; dipped down below your jaw to pepper the exposed skin there with unbearably soft kisses.

Each one made your pulse race harder than the last, pulled needy little breaths out of your mouth.

“Sound so pretty when you sigh like that,” he hummed against your throat. “Might have to kiss you like this forever if this is what it gets me.”

You’d been underneath him more times than you could presently recall, but never like this. Until now, you never understood how a person could say they loved you without any words at all, but you heard it. More than anything, you felt it in every brush of his lips — in the static crackling around you, charged with every little, languid line his tongue left behind.

The only thing distracting from your swelling heart was the wetness pooling in the bikini bottoms you’d hastily thrown on in the absence of clean underwear.

Fucking laundry day.

The sole consolation was the fact that the blend of polyester and elastane was better suited for a flood than any lace you would’ve consciously selected.

The breath behind his words tickled and surprised you, derailing your train of thought.

“Is it against the rules to tell you how beautiful I think you are?”

The circles he drew against the fabric of your sweatpants had you hypnotized, but you still managed to reply, “No more rules. Except — Oh, fuck.”

You mewled at the sensation of him suckling at the spot where your neck joined your shoulder.

“Except that you can’t ever stop.”

His lips curled into a smile against the love bite he’d so carefully crafted.

“I won’t,” he murmured before placing a kiss in the same spot he’d marked. “But I may need an intermission to get these incredibly chic clothes off your body. Kind of feels sacrilegious, though, I’ve gotta say.”

Your eyes flickered over to him, eyebrows raised. He pursed his lips to keep from smiling, forced the straightest face he could muster, then traced his fingertip over the rip in the crotch of your sweatpants. Sounding downright reverent, he explained, “They’re holey.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” You dropped your head back against the pillows with a groan that didn’t outgun your laughter. “Straight to jail for that. Seriously, that’s a federal crime.”

When your eyes stopped rolling and settled on him, Jimin was already looking down at you with amusement sparkling in the deep brown of his irises. He said nothing, opting instead to kiss you — for the fourth time — as a farewell before pulling away entirely.

The spot next to you went cold as soon as he sat up, but — bravely — you didn’t complain. You watched with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. He grabbed the end of his haphazardly, perfectly cropped t-shirt and pulled it off over his head.

Your only instinct was to reach up to his bare chest and trace every plane of it. To your dismay, Jimin intervened. Fingers at the hem of your top now, he stared expectantly at you until you stretched your arms above your head. That stupid, stolen shirt was guided up and off before it was discarded somewhere unseen.

Jimin’s pupils dilated immediately, gaze sweeping over your bare chest like he was beyond grateful that all your bras were at home, drowning in your washing machine. Uninhibited, he leaned forward. The delicate, cuban-link chain of necklace tickled the skin of your stomach while he placed an open-mouthed kiss in the space between your breasts. Cool to the touch, you shivered for more reasons than one.

When his tongue flicked out over one erect nipple, all you could offer was a breathy sigh, brain scrambled to hell and back. He seemed to draw inspiration from this — him and his goddamn mouth promptly switched tactics. Mimicking you, he looked up at you from under his lashes and blew a warm stream of air over your other nipple.

You were full-out whimpering underneath him. “Shit.”

“Yeah?” He smirked before taking the pebbled bud into his mouth and sucking softly, eyes still locked on yours.

Can I cum from this?

Oh god, I really might cum from this.

His mouth’s ministrations continued while his hands swept gently down the curves of your waist. That is, until they reached the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. Abruptly, Jimin stopped and sat back onto his calves.

You didn’t have to ask. Jimin’s eyes widened in tandem with the grin on his face; and you knew what he’d discovered. Smiling now with all his teeth, he tugged playfully at the knotted tie sitting above your right hip, keeping your bikini bottoms in place.

He snorted incredulously, “Be fucking for real.”

“Stop.” The word was elongated as you whined. It was useless, but you swatted at his arm. “I told you — ”

“I know, I know. It’s laundry day.” Fuck, his affection for you was written all over his face. “Incredible — truly, I have no notes.”

You buried your face in your hands to hide from him, but he didn’t let you. Just like he did that time on your couch, Jimin pulled your hands away from your face and held them in his own. This time, when he kissed you, you didn’t tear yourself away from him. Instead, you did the opposite. You grabbed the sides of his face in your hands and leaned into him.

With his hands now free, he was able to push your sweatpants down the rest of the way without extricating his lips from yours. Those fucking bikini bottoms went with them when he slipped the fabric over your ankles and tossed them blindly over his shoulder.

Mouth moving hungrily against yours, his hand hovered over your cunt, radiating warmth. You fought to keep your last shred of patience but lost, shifting underneath him to beg wordlessly for his touch. He obliged. His middle finger dipped between your sopping folds until it found the swollen bead of your clit and spiraled over it.

“Fuck,” you moaned into his mouth. He swallowed it, kissed you so deep your mind went blank.

The slow pace he’d chosen normally would have driven you mad, but instead of coming across as a taunt — or a punishment — you got the impression that he was basking in your arousal. That he was taking his time, savoring you and the million ways your body craved his.

When you pulled back, your lips were kiss-bitten and palpably swollen. He must have felt your quickened breath against his own lips. They autonomously curved into the tiniest sliver of a smile.

Watching him watch you, it was clear that Jimin loved you like this — wide-eyed, unguarded, inviting. He loved you generally. You knew that much for certain as he gazed down at you, and you were so fucking thankful that neither of you had to keep pretending otherwise.

Whatever trance he’d fallen into ended when you whispered, “Please.”

Though your plea wasn’t much more than an exhale, he didn’t need to be told twice. Momentarily, he stood; and as he did, your own hand dipped down between your legs. He stepped out of his joggers with his focus trained on you, staring spellbound while you touched yourself in his absence. Wet enough to drip.

If you had to wager on it, you’d bet that he could’ve stood there all night observing, listening to the way you moaned as you slicked your own fingers, but the darkened tip of his cock was weeping like he wanted you badly enough to ache. Completely incapable of spending any more time as a bystander, he fell to his knees between your legs. There, he guided them further apart with his hands.

Desperately, you grabbed one of his hands from where it sat on your knee and pulled him so that he was leaning over you once again. You wanted to feel the way his breath caught as he entered you, bare chest pressing into yours while he filled you. Needed him — just him — all the time.

Forearms now pressed to the mattress and fingers in your hair, he caged you in. His forehead came to rest against yours when you reached into the space between your bodies and dragged his tip through the mess he’d made of you. That faint squelch was obscene enough in the quiet of his room. It couldn’t hold a candle to the groan that escaped his chest when he finally entered you.

“Holy shit.” He exhaled sharply through gritted teeth. Your walls enveloped him, squeezing tight enough that no question remained about where he belonged. “Fucking missed you.”

That initial, perfect ache threatened to blind you, but it wouldn’t have mattered with the way your eyes screwed shut — too overcome with want to do much more than breathe. Slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretched you until he bottomed out. It was the closest thing you’d ever had to an out-of-body experience.

“Missed you,” you mumbled.

Well beyond fuck drunk, you bordered on incoherent. A kiss on your forehead lassoed you, brought you crashing back down. It was redundant, but he murmured, “Come back to me.”

You blinked up at him in a haze.

“Want you to look at me.”

He sounded shy, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard him, and you didn’t need any further explanation.

Eye contact had never been on the table before, deemed early on to be far too fucking intimate. If this is what he wanted, you decided, you’d never take your eyes off him again. Especially not when he looked at you the way he did then, like you hung the fucking stars in the sky.

You countered, “Kiss me.”

And he did, like he might never get the chance again.

No amount of closeness could’ve been enough, but you settled for wrapping your legs around him. With his range of motion now limited, he grinded against you; the curve of his cock rubbed against that secret spot behind your pubic bone.

Bones? Do you still have any of those?

Every tantalizing, slow thrust made it harder for you to remember why you’d ever required harshness when his gentleness now was infinitely more intense. It was so much better — being loved by him rather than hated.

Desperate fingers left half-moon imprints on his back, which was beginning to slick with sweat. The spaces between your whimpers lessened while the pressure in your abdomen began to build. Jimin had you teetering at the edge of the world, and you told him so with your lips at his ear, “Please — I’m so close.”

His forehead creased, and you watched in real time as determination etched itself into his features. He was perfect — beautiful — and he was close, too. You clenched; he cursed, “Fuck.”

You looked up at him through fluttering lashes, silently begging him not to stop. Not now, not ever. Stay.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Jimin murmured, burying himself deeper with every thrust. “You know that, right? How much you mean to me?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He watched your face as you came — when your eyes rolled back, and your head tilted against his pillows. Your legs loosened their binds around him as they shook, gasping moans tumbling out of your open mouth. His pace didn’t falter; his presence deep inside of you only elongated your orgasm.

Bliss.

You were still fluttering around his length when your eyes finally drifted open again. Not even through your first aftershocks, his panting breaths alone could’ve pushed you headfirst into a second orgasm.

His gaze had dropped at some point to see the way your cunt clung to him with every backstroke. He must’ve felt you staring, though; he looked back up at you, pupils blown wide. That was all it took to dot stars along the edges of your vision.

Back arching up off the mattress, you gushed around him once again. Mindless babbling — consisting only of his name and expletives — fell clumsily off your tongue. It caught both of you off-guard when your shaky voice managed to plead, “Wanna feel you cum — please. Want you to let go for me.”

Only after you begged him did his thrusts become desperate, reckless. There was the unmistakable sound of your wetness and skin colliding with skin, and then there was the low moan that built in the seat of his chest and broke free. Face buried in the crook of your neck as he came, the heat of his breath on your skin was rivaled only by the dizzying warmth of his release spilling into you.

He struggled to hold himself up while his spent cock still twitched inside of you. If you were being honest, you adored the way his weight pinned you against his mattress. Maybe, you thought, you could stay there forever.

Eventually, an exhausted voice came from the curve of your shoulder, almost too muffled to hear.

“How is it —” Jimin panted. “— That in the hundred times we’ve had sex, it never felt like that?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. Tingling fingertips ran lightly and lazily across his shoulder blades. The hint of hesitation bubbling in the pit of your stomach cautioned you not to speak your thoughts out loud, so you stared at the ceiling above you and willed yourself to be brave.

Your voice threatened to give up on its way out.

“Nobody’s ever fucked me like they love me before.”

He mustered all the energy he still had to turn his head and look at you. At first, you couldn’t tear your eyes off the ceiling to look back. Make space, you begged yourself; and so, you did.

With his chest resting heavily on yours, you wondered if he could feel the way your heart skipped a beat at that eye contact alone. The glimmer in his eye informed you that, yes, he could.

“Better get used to it, then.” He punctuated his thought by pressing his lips to your temple. “‘Cause that’s what you signed up for.”

You smirked, “Oh? Was there a contract?”

You might’ve kept teasing him if he didn’t tilt your head to kiss you properly — and fuck, you were melting all over again.

“Sealed with a kiss, no less.” He leaned down to nip affectionately at your earlobe. Mouth at the shell of your ear, he purred. “Like any deal with the devil should be.”

“Goddamn.” You whistled. “Promoted from menace to devil already. Congratulations.”

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled out of you and forced himself upright to his feet. Before you could even ask him to, Jimin leaned down to kiss the lips you’d poked out into a pout. Your voice was uncharacteristically needy as your question slipped out.

“You are coming back, right?”

“Nope,” he hummed against your lips. You leaned away from him with your jaw dropped incredulously. “I’m taking a shower and I’m taking you with me.”

That was the only warning you got before one of Jimin’s arms slipped under the hinge of your knees, and the other disappeared behind your back. You screamed. Instead of flailing — a one-way ticket to the floor, you imagined — you threaded your arms around his neck and clung to him as if your life depended on it.

“Pardon me,” you sputtered. “But what the fuck is happening right now?”

“Shhh — pipe down. I’m keeping a promise.”

You stared at him expectantly. For a moment, he ignored you and continued quietly on his way towards the bathroom. It wasn’t until he reached the threshold that he paused with a sigh.

The look he shot you then was far more earnest than you could’ve expected under the circumstances. One that said he saw you, not through you, and he wasn’t going to look away.

Jimin said it breezily, like it cost him even less than the air it took to vocalize it: “I am not letting you down again.”

A pinprick of tears stung the corners of your eyes. You fought like hell to keep them where they belonged. It was such a stupid joke — made so lightly — and it still held more weight than anything you’d ever heard.

Eyes swimming despite your resistance, you sniffled and laughed. “Not, like, literally, though — right?”

“Aw, baby.” He kissed your temple again, cooing. Part of you hated it, but the rest of you swooned. “Don’t test me.”

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arvandus · 10 months

Text

Touch Chapter 16 - A Night Out

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!AFAB!Reader

**18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI**

OVERALL FIC WARNINGS: Soft!Dabi, Fem!AFAB!Reader with a fictional backstory, fanon version of past events (I started this before the canon stuff dropped), manga spoilers, canon deviation, drug abuse/withdrawal (with inaccuracies since it’s outside of my experience and relies on research and imagination), violence, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, hurt/comfort, pining, slow burn, eventual emotionally charged SMUT, all characters will be written with complexity (i.e., no one-dimensional/hateful representations). *please pay attention to specific warning tags within each chapter!*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drinking. Lots of drinking (both Dabi and reader). Overall drug themes apply; bar scene/club scene (look, we get to have some FUN in the chapter, OK?? We deserve it!)

Chapter Songs: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys/All I Need by Radiohead

Part 1 Part 15

Chapter 16: A Night Out

You were in the hideout briefly. Dabi changed into his more preferred attire of his stitched jacket, matching pants, and boots. He was free of his mask and his sunglasses now, and you were grateful to finally be able to see his face again. His blue eyes looked at you with mirth when he showed up at your bedroom door. You handed him your pills and he downed them with water before crinkling the bottle and tossing it into your trash can.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Do you need me to touch up your scars first?” you asked, your brow furrowed with concern.

The ‘yes’ hung on the edge of Dabi’s tongue, the desire for relief always present, but this time he swallowed it. Wherever he was taking you, he didn’t want your sensory overload to be an issue.

“I’m fine,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Uh-huh... you know, that word doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

“It means that I’ve got it under control.”

You pursed your lips and looked down at your attire. It was the same one you’d been wearing earlier: jeans, a shirt, and a jacket.

“Should I change...?” you asked.

Dabi shrugged. “Do you wanna change?”

“Depends. Where are you taking me?”

“Not sure yet.” Dabi looked you over, head to toe, his eyes leaving fire in their wake across your skin. “You look great. Let’s get outta here.”

You were too flustered to argue, so you followed him down the stairs and out the door into the night air. A gentle mist of rain was falling down slowly, coating everything in a diamond dust of dew drops.

“We might get soaked tonight...” you commented.

“You worry too much,” Dabi replied as he put his arm over your shoulder again.

A smirk played at your lips. “And you don’t worry enough.”

Your hand came up to interlock your fingers with his comfortably. Right now, you didn’t want to dwell on what it meant; you just wanted to enjoy the contact that he was suddenly offering so freely.

“Then we’re perfect for each other,” he teased.

Your skin burned hot at his flirting and he glanced at you, taking in the surprised look on your face that you struggled to bury. He smirked.

“Let’s get some dinner first,” he continued. “What d’ya want?”

“What can we afford?”

Dabi flashed the fat wad of cash nestled in the inner coat pocket against his chest. “Whatever we want. My treat.”

Your eyes bulged. “Dabi! Where did you get that??”

Dabi scoffed. “Did ya think I was just checking out your cute ass while I was walking behind you all day?”

“I— What??”

“Gotta make a living somehow, sweetheart. I’m an expert pickpocket, remember?”

You did remember. But right now, Dabi pickpocketing was the last thing on your mind. He was getting under your skin on purpose, and you were enjoying it. It felt like old times, before things had gotten... complicated.

“Pick your poison, doll. What’re ya feelin’?”

“Hmmm... how about sushi?” you suggested.

Dabi grimaced. “Uhhh, gotta confession. I hate fish.”

You laughed. “How can you be Japanese and hate fish? It’s like a cultural staple.”

Dabi wrinkled his nose. “It tastes... fishy. And slimy. And I hate the way it smells.”

You laughed again. “Okay, not sushi then. How about ramen?”

“Didn’t we have that recently? Twice?”

“Yeah, because it’s delicious. I could probably live off ramen, to be honest...”

“Hm.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, smartass, what do you want to eat?”

“I know just the spot. We gotta hop on the bus, though.”

“Lead the way.”

A few minutes later, you stepped off the bus to see a small little restaurant. Its entire front was a large window that was open to the street, with a counter and bar stools attached into the cement. An animated neon sign of a ramen bowl danced on its low roofline.

“I thought you didn’t want ramen?” you asked confused.

“Surpriiise.” Dabi singsonged. You began crossing the street together. “The owner is a bit rough around the edges, and a total alcoholic. But his ramen is the best I’ve had.”

A canopy overhang allowed for protection from the drizzling as the two of you sat down at the counter.

“Oy,” said a gruff voice. You looked up to see an old man with what remained of his hair pulled back into a ponytail and tattoos up to his jaw line. “You again.”

“Long time no see.” Dabi replied.

The man nodded at you. “Who’s this?”

“A friend.”

Your heart sank in your chest at the label, and then you cursed yourself for being an idiot. Of course you were friends. All of this – helping you through your panic attack, letting you lean on him on the ride home, taking you out to get your mind off things... it was Dabi being a good friend.

A friend who held your hand.

A friend who put his arm around your shoulder.

A friend who almost kissed you the night before...

You refocused your attention when Dabi nudged you with his elbow. “Huh??”

“What do you want?” Dabi repeated.

The old man waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing.” Then he set down a bowl of edamame for you to share and immediately began preparing the food.

“Wait, what just happened?” you asked.

Dabi laughed. “You took too long deciding so he decided for you.”

“Oh.”

“You want something to drink?”

You stared at the list of beverages. “Beer. Sapporo?”

Dabi’s grin widened. “Oh, loosening up now, are we?” He put the order in, holding up two of his fingers. A moment later, two tall, ice-cold beer cans were placed in front of you.

You took a sip, letting the carbonation and flavor play on your tongue. You didn’t answer right away, unease swimming in your chest. You took a few more sips.

“Dabi...” you finally probed. He looked at you sideways as he drank. “Why are you doing this?”

What is this to you?

Dabi set the can down and began to fiddle with it, his fingers wiping patterns into the condensation.

“Because I didn’t want to go back there either. We were both stir-crazy in that place. Figured it was time to stretch our legs a little. Tonight should just be about having fun.”

“Well...” you smiled. “If that’s the case, you know what I want?”

Dabi looked at you attentively, his eyes trying to pry the answer before your lips could give it. “What?” he replied.

“I want to get drunk.”

Dabi let out a surprised laugh.

Your grin widened. “Like, stupid drunk.”

“Wasted?”

“Absolutely shitfaced.” You grinned into your beer as you drank more of it down, letting it wash over the knot you felt in your gut.

Dabi laughed again. “I think we can manage that.” He took another swig of his beer. “This’ll be fun...” he muttered.

You didn’t want to think about anything tonight. You didn’t want to worry. And you didn’t want to rehash what had happened earlier during the day. All you wanted was a break, a night to feel like a normal person, to be able to feel like you were a part of the world again.

So, you drank, and laughed, and ate. Dabi was right. It was the best ramen you’d ever had. Thirty minutes later, your stomach was now full and happy, and your veins hummed warmly with the first beer you drank. Just as you finished your can, another took its place.

You stared at it. “What’s this?”

Dabi held up his new can in a toast. “You said you wanted to get wasted. Cheers.”

“Oh God...” you laughed. “But I’m so full...”

“Don’t worry, doll. We got all night.”

“Really?”

Dabi shrugged. “Not unless you got plans with someone else,” he teased.

You laughed. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about in that department.”

“Not even your dealer friend from earlier?” Dabi prodded curiously.

“Yatsu??”

“You two even have nicknames for each other. How cute.” he commented dryly, his stiff grin never reaching his eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “Uh, nooo.... I mean, there’s history there, but... it’s long past.”

The shop owner refilled the small bowl of edamame. Dabi grabbed one and skinned it with his teeth.

“Yeah?” he said, “I’d be curious to hear that story...”

You laughed. “Not much to it, really... Yatsumoto was interested but I wasn’t.”

“Really?” Dabi’s sarcasm dripped heavy. “An upstanding guy like that?”

“I wasn’t too interested in relationships back then. Very single focused on my research at the time. Besides,” — you took a swig of your drink and then leaned into Dabi, your voice dropping to a whisper — “he’s not really my type.”

You picked up an edamame shell and ate the soybeans from it.

“Oh yeah? What is your type then?”

‘Someone tall, dark, and handsome with the world’s biggest daddy issues.’

You thought it, but didn’t say it.

A grin started on Dabi’s lips, a mischievous glint in his half-lidded eyes. “Maybe someone who’s in horrible need of chapstick?”

Shigaraki instantly came to your mind, and you laughed. You threw the empty edamame shell at Dabi. “What?? No.”

Dabi’s grin widened. “Hmm, maybe someone with a wide variety of personalities...”

“You’re terrible.”

“Or maybe someone who knows magic tricks.”

“Oh my God, no. Compress is like a brother to me, that’s so weird.”

Instant elation filled Dabi’s veins, but he tamped it down, keeping his expression neutral. Instead, he grabbed another edamame. “Coulda fooled me; you two seem close.”

“That’s because he’s the one who recruited me into the League,” you replied. “He saved my life a while back.”

Dabi’s amusement fell apart at this new piece of information. His smirk was gone, his expression neutral.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Not long after I’d been kicked out of the university, my place got broken into. I came home when the robbers were still there, shuffling through my things.” You shuddered at the memory. “They saw me, I saw them, and I ran. They chased me down the stairs and outside... It was Compress who stopped them, popping up out of nowhere. I probably would have been killed if he didn’t show up...”

Dabi’s mind rolled over the information, filing it next to all the other little facts he’d gathered about you.

“Do you know what they were after?” he asked.

A half smile curled your lip that didn’t reach your eyes. “They weren’t going through my bathroom or bedroom looking for jewelry or digging through my bags for cash. One of them had my laptop, and the other was shuffling through papers.”

“They were after your research.”

You snapped finger guns at him. “Bingo.”

Dabi took a long draw of his beer and you followed suit. He stared into the can as he swirled its contents slowly. “So how does your brother fit into all of this?”

You had begun to raise your beer can to your lips, but you hesitated, then lowered it back down to the counter. “He was the reason for my research. I wanted to help him, figure out how to make it so that his quirk couldn’t hurt himself or anyone else ever again. And I needed to prove that he wasn’t a bad person. That it was his quirk manifesting itself, forcing itself to be expressed.”

Dabi stared at you for a long moment. “What was his quirk?”

You hesitated again, and Dabi began to have second thoughts about his questioning. Tonight was supposed to be about having fun, and at this moment, you weren’t smiling. The gentle misting began to transition into heavier drops, the sound drumming on the canopy above you.

Dabi opened his mouth to rescind his question, but you answered before he could.

“Others called it Mind Flay, but he called it Tabula Rasa.”

“Blank Slate,” Dabi hummed. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“It wasn’t,” you replied. “He had the ability to make people literally lose their minds. Like, one moment they’d be themselves, and the next moment, they’d be a dumb, drooling mess. Like he wiped them clean, basically turning them into vegetables.”

Dabi fell silent as his mind ran through the ramifications of such a quirk. “When did it manifest?”

You gave a sardonic laugh. “The same age it did for everyone else; at around 4 years old.”

Dabi let out a low whistle. Kids were small, emotional creatures. A child having that level of power...

Dabi wondered who the first victim was. A family member? A classmate? A teacher?

You drank more of your beer as if it helped you get the words out. “He was older than me,” you explained. “He was in and out of institutions for years, so I didn’t see him very much. My parents put him through every kind of therapy imaginable, every quirk suppression program. They’d think it worked, but then it’d happen all over again. Like he couldn’t help himself. It’d come out when he was angry... or when he was protective...”

You swallowed, and Dabi realized you had tears in your eyes.

“We don’t gotta talk about this.” he said.

You gave a small laugh and wiped at your eyes. “Sorry,” you replied.

Dabi gave a dry laugh. “You did it again.”

“What?”

“Apologized when you didn’t need to.”

“Oh,” you laughed.

Dabi cut you off before the words could fall from your lips again. “Don’t say it.”

You laughed and gave him a light shove. “Get out of my head.”

You were smiling again; and it made the pressure sitting on Dabi’s chest ease slightly.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” he said.

“I don’t mind. I just...” you stared into your beer can. “I might need more alcohol than this if you want to hear the rest.”

Dabi gave a small smile. “I know a place.”

He paid the bill, finished the last of his beer, and the two of you left the protection of the canopy to venture out into the rain. You held onto his arm and pressed yourself against his side against the cold as the two of you made your way down the street. He skipped the first bar, knowing they overcharged for their alcohol, and then ushered you quickly into the next one.

It was busy, a small dive bar packed with bodies, the sound of pool balls being struck at the opposite end of the room. Music played loudly over the speakers, blending in with the hum of multiple drunken conversations. Dabi managed to spot an open bar stool and squeezed you onto it. He remained standing next to you and had to put his mouth to your ear to ask you what you wanted. You had to do the same to answer him, and he leaned across the counter to give your orders to the bartender.

A moment later, your drinks were in front of you.

“Aren’t you worried about being recognized here?” you shouted into Dabi’s ear.

Dabi leaned close to speak. “Nah, not here. This side of town doesn’t give two shits. Half of the people here are wanted by the Hero Commission anyway.” You stared at him with uncertainty, and he leaned in even closer, his hand warm on your back. “You’re safe, doll. I promise.”

So, you sat and drank, the place too loud to carry a conversation. Eventually the seat next to you opened up and Dabi took it.

A couple of drinks later, and you were feeling the effects of the alcohol much more. You felt more liquid than person, and you swayed slightly to the thrumming of music that played over the speakers, barely audible over the din of the space. Dabi watched you silently with a half-lidded gaze, his eyes always observing. You didn’t bring up your brother again, and Dabi didn’t ask, determined to keep the smile on your face for as long as possible.

After a little while, he leaned over to speak to you.

“Do you play pool?” he asked.

“What?”

“Pool.” he repeated.

You looked over at the pool table and noticed it was empty. In fact, the entire bar had a little less people in it, some of the patrons deciding to continue their bar hopping elsewhere. Still, it remained plenty busy, and you knew the table would get snagged up immediately.

Before you could answer, Dabi grabbed your hand and yanked you off the bar stool. Before you got too far, you grabbed your drink from the counter and brought it with you.

You stared at the table in front of you as Dabi grabbed a couple of cue sticks from the wall.

“This is a bad idea,” you chuckled.

Dabi looked up at you as he began setting the balls into the triangle. “Why?”

“Because I’m fucking drunk, Dabi...” you laughed.

“You? Drunk?” he teased. He stepped closer to you and held up his fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

You rolled your eyes. “Three.”

“Eh, you’re fine.”

“Wait, did I get it right??” you asked.

Dabi’s grin widened and he refused to answer. “Do you wanna break or should I?”

“Hm, you go first. I’m waiting for the room to stop spinning.”

“Suit yourself.” Dabi hit the cue ball and the triangle of balls burst in all directions. The purple ball fell into the corner pocket. “You’re stripes.”

You puffed air out of your cheeks and took a sip of your drink for courage. You stepped up to the table, lined up your cue stick, and missed horribly.

Dabi laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I told you I was too drunk for this.”

“C’mon doll, you’re just a lil’ rusty,” he chided. Dabi lined up his next shot and sank another ball.

“How are you so good at this?” you complained. “And how am I drunker than you??”

“Experience,” he replied.

You mimicked his response with a bratty tone and a scrunched-up face. “Experience. Please.”

You lined up your shot, and this time you hit the ball, but barely, the cue stick sideswiping. It caused the ball to spin off at the wrong angle before bouncing off one of Dabi’s, causing his to roll into the side pocket.

“Hey, thanks for that.” he commented.

“I swear to God, Dabi. If you don’t stop with your commentary, it’s gonna be your balls next.”

Dabi burst into laughter at your empty threat. “Based on your hits tonight, I don’t think I’m too worried about it.”

You gave a shocked laugh. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh, c’mon doll. Don’t be like that. Tell you what, I’ll give you a free shot.” He coaxed as he leaned on his cue stick.

You narrowed your eyes at him and took your position again. Just as you were about to strike, Dabi interrupted.

“Hold on.”

“What?”

“Your form is all wrong.”

“Shut up, no it’s not.”

Dabi put his hands up in defense. “Okay, sure. Go for it.”

You squinted at him, half to get your vision to focus and half to glare at him. You repositioned yourself again, but now doubt and two failures loomed over you. Finally, you cursed and stood up.

“Damn it. Okay, fine. Show me what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not holding your cue stick right,” he commented.

“What do you mean?”

Dabi modeled for you. You tried to imitate, but hand-eye coordination was getting more and more difficult. He chuckled at your attempt and leaned his cue stick against the table. Then he came up behind you, his hands on your hips.

His touch sent a shock of pleasure through you, and you sidestepped out of his hold. “What are you doing??” you demanded, your eyes wide.

“Relax, doll,” he laughed. “I’m gonna help you.”

You let him get in position behind you, his body lining up with yours. You could feel his breath on your ear, and it made every nerve sing at peak frequency. He placed his hands over yours, setting up your hand along your cue stick.

“You hold it like this, and...” -- Dabi slowly moved the stick back and forth within your hands -- “you hit it like this.” He pointed to the middle and the bottom of the cue ball. “You’ll want to hit the ball here or here. Got it?”

You glanced at him, and instantly realized how close his face was to yours, your nose practically brushing his when you turned your head to look him in the eye. His hand was on your waist, and all you could think about was closing the distance to kiss him. But he broke his gaze with you and nodded at the pool table.

“Give it a try.”

Dabi stayed next to you, his body lined up with yours as you lined up your shot and took it the way he showed you. This time, you hit the ball you wanted, but it bounced off the edge, and hit the eight ball.

“Wha... NO!” you yelled as the black ball rolled into a pocket.

That was it. That was the game. Dabi won.

“Wow. That was actually impressive how bad that was.”

You smacked his chest with the back of your hand. “I told you I was too drunk for this.”

“Hey, at least you hit the ball…”

You stuck your tongue out at him and took another sip of your drink. He cocked his head to the side as he looked at you.

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Good,” you replied with a smile.

“Good. Let’s try again.”

“Nooo,” you whined.

“C’mon, don’t be a sore loser. I thought you wanted to have fun,” he teased. “Besides, that was barely a game.”

“Ugh, fine. But don’t they have like... cards here or something?”

“I’d probably win at that too. Something tells me my poker face is better than yours.”

“You are so full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Dabi chuckled as he set up the balls again. “You break this time.”

You lined up your stick and hit the cue ball, sending the balls scattering.

Time passed as you played, Dabi refilling your drink when you asked as you bantered with him between turns. Your skills improved slightly, with Dabi giving you tips here and there. But the progress was hindered by the way you had difficulty focusing and the way your body didn’t always move the way you intended it to. You made it through two games, with Dabi beating you both times before you finally gave up, the floor beneath your feet pitching much more than it had before.

“I quit,” you finally said.

You leaned on your cue stick, your body swaying slightly. Dabi was next to you, so you took the opportunity to lean against his chest to ground yourself. But between the alcohol, stuffy bar, and his body heat, you pushed him away almost immediately.

“Ugh, you’re too hot,” you complained.

Dabi chuckled. “Come on…”

He took you back to the bar and you sat down onto the barstool with less grace than you’d had before. It wasn’t your fault; the damn thing seemed to move. There were no other seats again, so he stood next to you like before.

You laid your head on the counter, letting the cool, smooth surface soothe your forehead.

“She okay?” the bartender asked.

Dabi nudged you. “You okay?” he repeated.

With your head still down, you gave a thumbs up.

“She’s good,” he replied.

You zoned out to the sound of the bar noise and the music playing, your body swaying slightly to the beat. A moment later, a glass of water appeared in front of you.

“What’s this?” you demanded.

“Water, drink up,” Dabi ordered.

You shook your head. “Nuh-uh.”

“Your call... you’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Where’s my drink?” you asked, looking around bleary-eyed.

“You finished it.”

“Oh. It was good, can I have another?”

Dabi stared at you for a long moment. Then he pushed the water glass towards you. “Drink, doll. You’ll thank me later. Then I’ll order more.”

You grumbled but drank it anyway. As promised, Dabi ordered you another drink, and you gave a happy wiggle as you began to drink it.

Dabi leaned against the bar counter with his head propped in his hand. He stared at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?”

“I like you like this.”

“What? Drunk?” you teased.

“Happy,” he corrected.

You stilled for a moment as you looked at him.

“It’s because I’m with you,” you confessed.

Your answer seemed to surprise him, his eyes widening slightly as his grin faltered. He gave a scoff. “I’m sure the alcohol is helping too.”

“Shut up and take the compliment,” you retorted. “I’m happy with you. You make me happy.”

Dabi’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how much you were making him grin, the bruise and the torn skin thrumming low. “You’re repeating yourself now.”

“It’s so you’ll listen to me,” you replied adamantly as you took another sip. Your thoughts were more fluid now, your usual filters and reservations carried away on the current of booze in your system.

“I think…” you started thoughtfully, “I thought going back to the hide out would help me feel better. But...”

“But it didn’t.”

You shook your head. “I looked at that place and I just felt... lonely.”

“And you don’t feel lonely now?” Dabi asked.

You shook your head again and leaned against his shoulder. “I feel safe.”

Dabi froze under the contact as your confessions fought with his own denials. You weren’t safe with him. He was unstable and violent and he didn’t deserve your trust.

But you were smiling now, and he couldn’t say that.

He turned his body towards you slightly to put his arm around your shoulders, and you nuzzled comfortably against his chest.

“You ready to go back?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you whined.

“You sure? You’re looking awfully shiftfaced now.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Says the girl falling asleep over her glass...”

You sat up and pushed against his chest with your hands. “Shut up.” Then, your eyes lit up with an idea. “Oh! I know! You know what I want?”

Dabi quirked an eyebrow at you. “More alcohol?”

You pointed at him. “Yes. But also, I want to dance.”

Dabi’s grin vanished immediately. “What??”

“I want to go dancing!” you repeated. “C’mon Dabi, pleeaassee?”

Dabi stared at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

Dabi was familiar with the club scene. He used to visit it frequently before the League, chasing quick highs and whatever chick would spare him a passing glance in an effort to drown his pain in a few cheap hours of euphoria. He knew just the place to go, a place that was safe for people like him, where they didn’t really care about IDs or police records, where cash and drugs were the only currency that mattered.

But it’d been a long time since he’d been there, and the place was filled with temptations and potential dangers. It was no place for someone like you.

Besides, you already looked ready to fall over.

“I bet you can’t even walk straight.”

“Yes I can!”

“Okay, prove it. If you can walk out of here without help and without bumping into anyone, then I’ll take you dancing.”

It was a tall order as the world tilted on its axis around you, but you were stubborn and determined.

Dancing. To be able to finally move your body, to feel the freedom of music against your skin. You hadn’t realized how wound tight you’d been since you’d lost everything and joined the League. It’d been nonstop healing, and sneaking around, and hiding away. Dancing, even for a little bit, to lose yourself to movement and be just another face in the crowd, sounded like just what you needed.

With determination, you stood up from your stool. The motion instantly made you lightheaded, and you swayed on your feet, balance eluding you. Dabi’s arms were out in an instant, catching you, and you fell against his chest in a fit of giggles.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“No, no,” you giggled. “I can do this.”

“Doll, you already failed the test.”

“Shh!” you put a finger to his lips, but now the giggles had you and you couldn’t stop them.

Dabi’s arms were around your waist as your arms hung around his neck. You swayed in his hold, the motion soothing. Your vision focused on him, and for once you allowed yourself to blatantly stare at his beauty, at the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes, even the staples along his cheeks. Your thoughts made their way seamlessly from your brain to your mouth.

“You’re really hot,” you cooed.

“Yeah, you told me earlier.”

“No, I mean, like... you’re hot. Like attractive, hot. It’s unfair how hot you are.”

Dabi, for all of his self-control, couldn’t stop the heat from warming his cheeks, and he forced a laugh as he began to untangle your fingers from his neck. The way your eyes were looking at him, the way your tongue peeked out to wet your lips...

“Okay, now I know you’re shitfaced.”

“Shut up, it’s true.”

“Everyone looks more attractive when you’re drunk.”

You looked around at all the other faces at the bar. “That’s not true...” you muttered.

Dabi laughed again while internally his mind was spinning. You were going to be the death of him. God, he wished you were saying this shit while you were sober... he wondered if you’d even remember any of it.

He sighed. “Let’s get you home.”

“But what about the dancing??”

“We’ll have to save it for another time.”

You pouted as Dabi began to lead you out of the bar. The realization that your evening of fun was coming to an end made the weight of dread return to your shoulders. Tears pricked your eyes as you began to leave.

You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t want to stop being with Dabi, spending time with him like this. You didn’t want to go back to that stuffy hotel with your medical bag and PTSD waiting for you.

Once you stepped outside, Dabi let go of your hand and walked ahead of you. The cold night air began to clear your head slightly. Everything was coated in rainwater now as the low, heavy clouds passed over you, painted in the yellowish-brown light of the city; but there was a lull in the rainfall that gave a much-needed reprieve and brought a heavy hush upon the quiet street compared to the boisterous bar inside.

You inhaled the air deep into your lungs, letting the damp crispness cool your blood. You stared ahead of you at Dabi, donned in his black coat, his black hair lit under the streetlamp. He turned to look at you, and for a moment you stood still and stared. He was picturesque, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“What?” he asked.

“I...” you swallowed, a million different responses piling onto your tongue at once.

I don’t want to go back.

I want to be with you a little longer.

I want you to kiss me.

I never should have left last night...

God, you cared for him. You cared for him more than you had let yourself realize. But now, here away from the chaos, with your worries subdued under liquor and fresh air, you understood just how incredibly head over heels you were for him. It scared you, because he was not someone you ever thought you’d fall for. He was self-destructive, broken, and single-minded in his obsession. It left little space in his heart for anything else. But he was also intelligent, highly self-aware, and surprisingly kind, in his own way. You’d begun to see a side to him that you hadn’t known existed before, and it was a side that only you ever seemed to witness, something that was reserved special for you. You felt protected by it, cared for. In a world that had tried to erase you, he somehow made you feel... wanted.

All you could think as you stood there unable to answer, was that you wanted to be with him always.

Dabi’s dark brows furrowed and he stepped close to you, his eyes looking over your face through his black bangs. His thumb came up and brushed fresh tears from your cheek.

“Why are you cryin’ again, doll?” His voice was deep, coating you like honey, and you closed your eyes to let it wash over you.

You hadn’t realized you were crying; you hadn’t felt the tears fall, too focused on your emotions as your skin hummed like an aura around you. You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your cheek, even though he’d already lowered his hand.

You shook your head in disbelief. So much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t say any of it. Not without scaring him away. If he learned how deeply you felt about him...

You’re not my type.

You understood those words more clearly, now. It wasn’t that you weren’t his type; it was that Dabi didn’t have a type. He wasn’t someone who would commit, who would settle down. He couldn’t even picture a future for himself beyond taking down his father.

But you didn’t want to face that either, because that train of thought only led to more heartache. What you wanted was to remember the way he put his arm over your shoulder, the way he wiped your tears from your cheeks, from the way he’d hovered over you the night before, his eyes drinking you in as if you were all he wanted. You wanted to hold his hand, to lean against him as you sat together, to bask in his attention a bit longer.

“I...” you started again. “I’m not ready. I’m not ready to go back.”

Dabi stared at you, his expression unreadable, and you could tell he was deciding on what to do next. He looked around, taking in his surroundings, and checked the time on his phone. It was late, but not terribly; there were at least another couple of hours before the public transportation systems shut down for the night.

“You wanna dance that badly?” he asked.

What you wanted was more time to pretend. To pretend that this was more than what it was, to pretend that you were two regular people enjoying each other’s company and seeing where things went without worry or consequence about what sat on the horizon.

“I... I just want a little more time,” you whispered, “to feel normal.”

Dabi stepped even closer, his body inches from yours. His long fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, his eyes following his action.

“You’re the most normal girl I’ve ever known.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the odd compliment, and Dabi’s lips turned up at the corners slightly.

“If we stay out longer, I might need more of your pills. Do you have any on you?”

You anticipated this possibility and pulled the small Ziplock bag out of your pocket. Dabi took the pills you offered, noting the few remaining. You tried not to stare too intently at the way he placed them onto his tongue and swallowed them, but you were pretty sure you were failing at being discrete.

He put his arm over your shoulder. “Come on.”

Warmth swelled from his touch, and a great wave of euphoric victory washed over you. Your smile came back.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Dancing.”

Dabi led you towards the train station where he grabbed a quick snack from the vending machine and a drink. Once you were seated in the empty train car, you ate as you watched the city lights pass by. While you watched the city, Dabi watched you. He watched the way your eyes lit up, the longing in them as you looked out at what used to be your home, at a world that you’d been cut off from.

Normal. You wanted to be normal. And Dabi meant what he’d said. You were as normal as they came. You never belonged with the League, but you did it out of necessity. The way you talked about it made it sound like a cage, and the more Dabi thought about it, the more he realized that for you, it probably was.

He wondered what you would be like if you could have your freedom again. If you could exist without fear, without worry, without pain. How much brighter would your smile be? How much happier would you feel? He could picture it; you, successful and happy, with a career, a home, a family... you seemed like the type that would want a family.

But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t picture himself there with you. His future didn’t hold the potential that yours did, and he didn’t want the things that he assumed you wanted. No matter which way he looked at it, he didn’t belong there, his dark shadow blocking out the light that you desperately needed to flourish.

And yet, for some reason, you always shined brightest when you were with him. You were happiest with him. You’d even said so with your own words. The safety that you’d been seeking before wasn’t at the hotel; it was with him.

His mind and his heart couldn’t reconcile the two realities. They co-existed in his consciousness, yet their edges never touched.

You wanted to feel normal, but Dabi knew that normal would no longer be possible for you. Not after what had happened to you, how they had tried to erase you. There was nothing for you to go back to, not with hero society being what it was, the status quo still locked in place and the people who hurt you still in power.

Dabi mourned his past while you mourned your future.

So, you wanted to pretend tonight. Dabi couldn’t blame you. That’s why he changed his mind, even though discomfort and warning bells nagged at the back of his consciousness. That was why he took your pills so that he could stave off any temptation he might feel once you both reached your new destination. It was the only option available that he had in order to give you want you wanted.

He’d let you pretend. And maybe... just for a little bit... Dabi could pretend too. He could set aside his identities of Dabi and Touya, stashing them away to a deep, dark place inside himself. They would never be gone from him entirely but, maybe tonight, he could quiet their screaming for just a little while. He could pretend, take on a third, unnamed identity. No one important, just some guy having a night out with a girl that he had a crush on.

You stepped off the train with Dabi into a different neighborhood. More bars lined the streets here, more people walked the sidewalks. The heavy thrums of music spilled out of open club doors into the streets where people lined up for entry.

Dabi led you along with his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him. It was as if he were making sure you didn’t get separated from him, lost in the throngs of drunken passersby. And it was a good call, too... you were still very much tipsy, your balance uneven as you followed along. Your eyes kept getting distracted by the things around you, and Dabi had to guide you around oncoming strangers more than once.

“Careful, doll,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” you said off-handedly. His hand gave your shoulder a small squeeze.

You were looking around, trying to guess which club he would take you to. Instead, he turned down a dark alley.

“Wait, what...?”

“Just trust me.”

So you did, letting him guide you until you found a back door entrance with a line of strangers waiting.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a special place for people like us,” he replied. Then he grinned down at you. “What, do you think villains are just constantly fighting and stealing all the time?”

You smiled and leaned against him as you waited. The closer you got, the more anxious you felt, a mixture of fear and excitement. You could feel the music in your feet now, could hear how the building seemed to vibrate from the bass that spilled out of the open door.

“You still got those extra pills on you?” Dabi asked, his eyes ahead.

“Yeah, why?”

“Hand ‘em over.”

You hesitated, and Dabi looked down at you.

“They’re not for me, doll. Money’s not the only currency here, and that stack of cash I had is gonna dry up if we’re not careful. We still gotta be able to get back later.”

Discomfort stirred across your skin, but you pulled out the pills and handed the bag to him anyway.

“Good girl,” he muttered as he pocketed them.

The reaction your body had to those two simple words was astronomical, heat washing over you and moisture pooling between your legs. It took you by surprise, and you bit your lip to keep yourself composed as you took another step forward in the line.

It wasn’t long before it was your turn to go in. You had expected them to check ID, but instead, Dabi talked to the man guarding the door in low whispers. A few words and an exchange of bills and the pills and you were finally in.

The atmosphere smothered you instantly, invading all of your senses. The noise, the smell, the heat, the vibrations, the flashing lights and smoke... It was overwhelming at first, but Dabi kept his arm over you, guiding you through it. Your eyes took it all in, watching people dancing, grinding, making out. You averted your eyes, realizing exactly what you’d gotten yourself into and who you were with.

You turned your attention back ahead when Dabi stopped, and you realized he’d found the bar.

“I’m gonna need a drink before we do this,” he commented, his voice loud to override the noise. “You want one?”

Yes. Yes, you definitely needed another drink.

You nodded at him.

“Whad’ya want? Better make it strong, this is probably our last one for tonight,” he replied as he checked the money left in his hand. The stack was significantly thinner than when you first started.

You gave him your order, picking something that would taste awful but be highly effective. He grinned at you and gave the order to the bartender. A minute later, you both had your own drinks. You took a sip of yours and grimaced.

“You’re not gonna scold me?” he teased, holding his drink up for emphasis.

You scoffed. “Would it make a difference?” you asked.

Dabi laughed. “Not really.”

“Exactly.”

Dabi’s shoulder bumped yours playfully. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll get you home safe.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “I know you will,” you replied.

You watched the people on the dance floor with longing as you sipped at your drink, waiting for the effects to kick in. You needed to be drunk enough to not care about how you danced or who was watching. You need to be drunk enough to be able to nearly forget yourself and all your troubles.

While you watched the dance floor, Dabi kept an eye out for any potential trouble. His eyes caught a couple popping pills in their mouths and chasing it with alcohol. Further away, a group of girls bent over a table, snorting white powder into their noses off their makeup mirrors. In this place, no one cared what anyone else did, as long as they didn’t start any fights.

Dabi’s arm around your shoulder tightened as he looked away, angling you slightly so the groups were behind you. He didn’t want you to see it. He didn’t want you to see any of it. Because as soon as you did, he knew you’d want to leave, your worry over him greater than your desire for freedom.

And Dabi understood why. He could feel the pull of it, the drag of the old familiar behaviors brought forth by old memories of a time when he didn’t care about consequences. If he were by himself, he probably wouldn’t be able to resist it, the temptation too great. But this time, he had you with him, and it was you that kept him grounded.

It was excruciating waiting; he finished his drink long before yours, knowing the sooner he finished it, the sooner it would hit, and the sooner he’d be able to sober up later. It mixed with your pills in his gut and he could feel the lightheadedness, could feel the numbness settle over him comfortably. His scars didn’t hurt, and the headaches and nausea that came and went each time your medication wore off was once again silent.

But he still had enough awareness to realize how stupid he was being, the risk he was taking by bringing you here. He was being a damn idiot just to make you happy and keep you smiling. What if he fucked up again? What if he couldn’t stop himself? What if he got caught up in something and you ended up getting hurt tonight?

That single possibility lingered in his mind, and he used it to shackle himself to you, using your presence as a lifeline. He refused to let it happen. He’d never be able to forgive himself if it did.

He watched as you finally finished the last of your drink. Your body was loose and untethered again, and you swayed subconsciously to the music.

“You ready?” he asked.

The sooner he could get you out onto the dance floor, the easier all of this would be for him. He’d let you dance, you’d get what you needed out of your system, and then he’d take you home.

He just needed to not see it. He needed to be distracted. He needed to stay focused on you.

You stared at him, eyes wide with hesitancy. But there was longing there as well, hidden behind the glassiness of your eyes.

“Yeah,” you finally answered.

He let you lead the way, allowing you to pick your way through the crowd to find a space where you could squeeze in. Dabi followed behind you, his hand on your waist to make sure you didn’t get lost and to make sure no one else tried to approach you.

The music was upbeat and fast paced, the kind that made people want to jump and sway and sing. Your body fell into it naturally, carried along on the beat.

Dabi stood, his body frozen to distraction as he watched you move. Your eyes were closed, every part of you in motion, and he could tell that you were happy as your mouth sang the lyrics. It was as if he weren’t even there, or more like you weren’t there anymore, just a vessel through which the music moved through. It was a tide that you ebbed and flowed with, and Dabi was the rock.

You loved to dance. Dabi had never even thought about it before; he’d never once asked himself what it was that you liked, what you enjoyed. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized how little he really knew about you. It only made the curiosity burn brighter, hotter.

What else made you happy?

You pulled him back to reality with a tug of your hand, your eyes and face alight with joy.

“Dance with me!” you pleaded.

So, he did, his body coming up to fit behind yours. He let you set the motions, let your hips lead his as his arm wrapped around your waist. His body burned like fire everywhere your bodies touched, and he let it consume him, let himself get lost between you and the music, finding solace in a place where time had no meaning and all that mattered was the movement, the rhythm, the feel and smell of your skin.

The songs changed, blending from one to the next as you danced together, heady from alcohol and arousal. You stopped thinking, you stopped worrying. You let yourself drift in happiness with Dabi pressed against you, his body like a brand against your skin that burned itself into your soul. You were tingling, your skin singing everywhere.

The palms of Dabi’s hands grazed the curve of your shoulders and down your arms until they found their home on your hips, his fingers curling around and bringing you flush against him as you danced. The movement of your bodies were different now, changing, evolving. And faintly, you realized that a threshold was being crossed, a line drawn in the sand that was being etched away with each hot breath across the shell of your ear. You could feel Dabi’s belt buckle against your lower back, could feel the denim of his jeans and the firmness beneath it that had made itself at home against the curve of your ass, and all you could think of was how you wanted more, more, more.

Every inch of you began to tighten like a coil, and you weren’t the only one. Dabi lowered his head until his nose was brushing the crook of your neck, his lips ghosting over your shoulder but never quite touching, never actually reaching out and...

Your movements together slowed to a standstill as people continued to dance around you. Dabi tucked his nose behind the shell of your ear, the breath from his lips tickling your neck in ragged gusts.

He was holding back. Every fiber of Dabi’s being was pulled tight as he fought every natural urge that coursed through his veins.

Your hand reached up to tangle your fingers into his hair soothingly. It was hot and sweaty, the strands sticking between your fingers. You scratched at his scalp, and he hummed, the vibration echoing in your own chest.

“You okay?” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

He growled low and his grip tightened, fingers digging into the plush of your hips, causing your breath to hitch.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You turned in his arms to look at him, and he stared back, his ocean eyes glowing with hunger. You put your arms around his neck, and you moved in a gentle sway, even as the music continued to pound loudly and quickly around you.

“Am I now?” you grinned.

Dabi’s eyes narrowed at you.

His hands gripped your ass and pushed you tight against him until there was no mistaking just how crazy you were making him, just how badly he wanted you.

“Yeah. You are.”

His action stole a little gasp from your lips, and he grinned devilishly. It only emboldened you, eager to finally rip away the thin, false veneer of a boundary that no longer existed between you.

“So...” you said as you put your forehead to his, your noses bumping gently, “what’re you gonna do about it?”

He could feel your hot breath, could smell the alcohol on your tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut, his brows furrowed. You were drunk, he was drunk and slightly high, and none of this was supposed to be happening.

He shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t...

He didn’t want you to wake up in the morning and regret this, to write this off as a mistake. He wanted this to mean something.

But then you whined his name, the same way you did last night, with that needy, pleading tone that made his heart drop in his chest and his cock throb against his jeans.

“Dabi...”

Fuck it.

Dabi’s resolve shattered into a million pieces, and he kissed you.

Pleasure erupted like wildfire and you gasped against his lips. Your hands behind his neck instantly tightened around him as you slotted against his body like a magnet. His arms tightened around you, his hands following up and down the curve of your back before returning to cup your ass and push you tight against his groin where his need was heaviest. Your need was heavy too, pulsing in your veins and throbbing between your legs until you were sure you’d drown.

Your mouth opened hungrily, and Dabi was done for, his tongue meeting yours as he kissed you fiercely. His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping you close, preventing you from pulling away as he drank you in.

You were lightheaded, on the brink of fainting, when your lips finally parted. Dabi stared at you, his pupils dilated, his lips wet.

“Wanna get outta here?” he finally asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

Dabi grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the club into the night air. The cold chilled the sweat on your skin, your hearing muffled from the aftereffects of the club music. Everything held a strange lucidity now, despite the alcohol still rampant in your veins. It was as if a heavy veil had finally been lifted and you could see the beauty of the world around you, all of its edges in crystal clear clarity, and at the center of it was him.

You practically had to jog to keep up, your head still swimming. You turned the corner and managed to find yourself on a quieter street, with less people. He led you down it, making another turn into another nondistinct alleyway, much quieter than the last without any back entrances to clubs or bars.

You needed to kiss him again. You needed it like you needed air.

You tugged on his arm, yanking him back toward you. You met the incoming momentum of his body with your hand on his cheek and your lips on his, hot and eager.

He kissed you back instantly, his tongue opening your mouth again and he backed you up against the wet brick wall, his palms exploring your body. Your hips, your thighs... he pressed himself against you, and you moaned at the feeling of his thigh pressing between your legs, your hips rolling.

Dabi’s mouth broke from yours to trail wet kisses to your jawline and down your neck. Your fingers gripped his hair, your body moving of its own accord, finally cut loose of its strings.

But suddenly, a wave of unpleasant heat began to wash over you, and the lightheadedness from before evolved into full-on spinning.

“Dabi...” you warned.

“Hm?” he hummed, too engrossed in the feel of you to hear the shift in your tone.

You could feel it, the way your stomach rolled. All that drinking, and dancing, and running...

You were going to be sick.

“Dabi stop –”

You shoved him away just in time to bend over to the side and vomit your alcohol all over the ground.

“Oh shit.” Dabi’s arm was around you in an instant, holding you up as you emptied your stomach, his other hand brushing your hair back and out of your face. “It’s okay, doll. I gotcha.”

The lust in Dabi’s veins evaporated immediately, his mental fog receding as he held you while your body convulsed.

Realization crashed over him on all that had just happened.

He shouldn’t have done any of this.

He shouldn’t have taken you that club, he shouldn’t have danced with you, he shouldn’t have touched you like that...

And he definitely shouldn’t have kissed you. Not while you were both drunk off your asses, where you couldn’t tell where the alcohol ended and your feelings began.

Fuck, you were too important to him to fuck this up.

It was too late now. He could still taste you on his tongue, could recall in stunning clarity the feel of your body beneath his palms, the way it had bent to his will. He’d finally had a taste of you and he craved more. He’d unlocked something within himself that couldn’t be put back, had given away something that couldn’t be returned.

You moaned miserably once you were done and wiped your mouth. You propped yourself against the wall with your body bent and your hands on your legs.

“Ughh...” you groaned.

Dabi crouched in front of you so he could look up into your face. “You okay?”

You looked at him with tired eyes and shook your head. “Nnnnope. Everything’s...” – you whirled your finger in a circular motion – “ssspinning.” You lowered your head again. “Oh, God. That last drink hit hard.”

Dabi took your hand in his. “Let’s get you home.”

“Yyyup,” you replied. You made to stand up, but the nausea came back. “Woah, woah... hang on... I’mmm gonna... need another m-minute.” Your words were slurred and your movements slow. You bent back over, your head low again as you breathed deep breaths in and out.

Dabi crouched in front of you again. He placed his hands on your calves and rubbed his thumbs in small circles into the denim.

You glanced up at him and a drunk giggle escaped your lips. “Totally sexy right now, aren’t I?”

Dabi smirked. “You’re always sexy.”

You straightened up slightly and breathed in through your nose and out your mouth as the nausea began to subside and the spinning slowed. You leaned your head back against the wall, your eyes closed.

“I thought I wasn’t your type,” you joked.

Dabi stood up and brushed your hair away from your face. “Obviously that was a fuckin’ lie.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

You were spiraling now, all the alcohol you didn’t throw up running amok in your system, and it was late. Dabi put his arm around your shoulder to keep you steady.

“C’mon, doll... I think we’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“Mmm... I like when you call me doll,” you hummed.

“I know you do.”

“And sweetheart.”

“Yep.”

Dabi started to help you out of the alley, but you stumbled, your steps wobbly. You broke out into a fit of giggles but had to pause again as another wave of nausea washed over you.

“You gonna throw up again?” he asked.

“I dunno. I mean... I’m pretty sure there’s nothing left to throw up.” You looked around you, the surroundings unfamiliar. “How far away is home?”

“We gotta get to the train.”

“Ugghhh... too far,” you whined. Exhaustion was coming on fast and hard. You wanted to lay down on the ground and sleep.

A raindrop struck the top of your head, then another. More and more began to fall.

Dabi cursed. “Ah, shit...”

You held your hand out, watching as they landed on your palm, your fingers. You opened your mouth and caught a couple drops on your tongue.

Dabi stared at you, his breath stuck in his chest.

You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And, for at least a little while tonight, you were his. He watched, memorizing the nuances of you, your laugh, your smile, the color of your eyes, your hair, every beauty and every imperfection locked away into a safe place on the possibility that tomorrow everything would be different.

Tomorrow you may not want him at all.

So, for now, he’d enjoy however much was left of the night, even if all that was left was laughing, stumbling, and dancing in the rain.

The drops began to fall faster, heavier. It began to flatten his hair and soak into his clothes. You were oblivious, your face tilted up towards the falling rain, as you held your arms out. You did a small spin but stumbled, and Dabi caught you in his arms before you could hit the pavement.

“Whoops!” You giggled.

“Shitfaced,” he teased.

“Happy,” you replied. You put your arms around his torso, your head resting against his chest. “Happy.” You repeated again, your voice softer.

Dabi allowed his arms to wrap around you, allowed his quirk to warm his body slightly to stave off the cold for the both of you.

He had to get you back, before the trains shut down.

“Come on doll, we gotta hurry.” Dabi grabbed your hand and began dragging you down the street. You followed him, your feet barely able to keep up.

As the rain soaked through your clothes, you began to shiver. Puddles formed in the street, small streams trickling down the gutters. By the time you’d managed to reach the train station, you were both soaked. Dabi managed to get you onto the last train for the night. You sat down together and you began rubbing your arms, your teeth chattering slightly.

Dabi took off his stitched coat and draped it over your shoulders. “Here.”

You wrapped it around you gratefully and snuggled against him, your arms wrapped around his.

As the train began to move, it rocked ever so slightly, back and forth. Dabi allowed his cheek to rest against your wet head as he watched the city pass outside. He felt an unusual sense of quiet in this moment, a peace that he’d never felt before. The usual darkness in him was always there, lurking, but for once, he didn’t care about it, didn’t look at it. He knew this night was wrought with impermanence, and he told himself that he would pretend.

After a silence that lasted for eternity, Dabi allowed himself to speak from a place that he usually kept quiet, a place he’d never before given credence to.

“I hope you remember this...” he whispered against your hair.

You didn’t answer. The mixture of alcohol, exhaustion, warmth, and the movement of the train had lulled you to sleep. It forced a small loneliness to settle on Dabi’s shoulders.

It had been fun while it lasted.

He had to shake you awake once the train reached your stop. You were half asleep as you followed him off and leaned against him the entire walk home. Dabi had half a mind to give you a piggyback ride to save time, but the healing wound on his back itched as a reminder. His scars didn’t hurt terribly yet, but he remained cautious, aware that your quirk had burned off long ago. Now it was only your pills that were keeping the excruciating pain at bay. He could feel them lurking beneath the surface, waiting to wreak havoc on his body again.

It was an ordeal getting you in and up the stairs. You’d gravitated towards the couch in the common room as soon as you saw it, and whined at him when he redirected you to the stairs.

“Elevator,” you whined.

The old machinery squeaked and rattled, and Dabi didn’t want to wake the others just to deal with curious looks and even more curious questions.

“Too noisy.” Dabi replied.

So, he helped you up the steps of the stairwell, catching you when you faltered.

By the third stumble, your giggles returned.

“Shh, shut up,” he whispered.

Your giggle turned into a cackle, unable to control yourself, and Dabi put his hand over your mouth to try to quiet you. Your tongue stuck out and licked his palm, running across his staples.

He yanked his hand away, repulsed. “Ugh! You’re disgusting.”

You cackled some more, and your voice echoed off the stairwell. You clamped your own hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as your eyes squeezed shut, tears stinging the corners.

Dabi couldn’t help but chuckle at you.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered. “Come on, you idiot.”

He finally had to put your arm around his shoulder and his arm around your waist, and your giggles finally subsided, the occasional chuckle escaping your lips.

Dabi managed to get you through your bedroom door and plopped you down on top of your bed, where you lay sprawled out, your eyelids heavy.

“Dabi...” you slurred.

Dabi began helping you out of your shoes. “Yeah?”

“Did we kiss?”

Dabi froze, his hands in the middle of peeling off your wet socks. It was as if like you’d shot a bullet through his chest, and now his heart was bleeding out, leaving nothing but emptiness inside.

You didn’t remember.

You already forgot.

Dabi stared at you for a moment as you laid back with your arm over your eyes to block the light. His jaw clenched.

“No, doll.”

“Aww...” you pouted. “I thought we did...”

“You must’ve been dreaming on the train.”

“Mmm, it was a really good dream...”

You rolled to your side and curled in on yourself, tears in your eyes as you stared at your bedside lamp. You were still wrapped up in his coat, with your own soaked jacket underneath.

“C’mon, doll.”

Dabi made you sit up and began taking his coat off you. You rubbed at your eyes sleepily. As soon as he got your own jacket off, you fell back sideways into the bed. Dabi grabbed your blanket and laid it over you.

“I wish I were your type...” you whispered.

Dabi froze for a moment, his eyes on you. But you didn’t look at him; it was almost as if you were talking to yourself.

It stung him how little you remembered from your night together. But Dabi accepted it bitterly, playing along. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe tomorrow you wouldn’t hate him.

“No you don’t,” he replied quietly.

“Yes I do....”

Your eyes closed, and Dabi watched and waited. But they didn’t open again, and your breaths fell soft and even. You’d fallen asleep.

A heavy sigh escaped out of his nose, and he crouched at the edge of your bed, his arms on your mattress with his chin in his fist as he watched you sleep.

His type. It was the second time you’d brought it up that night, even though you didn’t remember. He remembered the jab he’d thrown at you ages ago; he remembered how you reacted. It was his first real hint that showed him you were interested in him.

But then everything fell apart and you put him back together piece by piece. And it was all different after that. Dabi had assumed that his little comment no longer mattered; that it had become a thing of the past, once you’d gotten to know him and all of his problems. After all, why the hell would you even want to be his type anyway?

But you did, and now his careless words from before were back to bite him in the ass. Because now he had only one type, and it was you.

And you weren’t going to remember a thing.

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

Chapter 17

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

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC OR ANY OTHER WRITINGS, PLEASE GO HERE TO FILL OUT THE GOOGLE FORM. 18+ ONLY ALLOWED.

TAGLIST: @babayaga67 @ladroone @samemec @georgettesand @horsetechie @ajaviary @thegratefulbread25 @lovingandenjoying @jammakesjam @christalcake @moth-baybee @kdadss @stealingyourturts @purplesweethart @reapersbarge @ren-z @dabi-lover @ohh-takuuu @darkovergrownforestnymph @silverrings-n-prettythings @kirisbeltbuckle @wynnsmelody @sleepyfairyxo @noonasaryn @alittlemoth @prettylambs @n0san1tyl3ft @afuturefailure @sleepycrybby @piratequeen-impact @n3cr0p0l1s @ladyinfini @forrest-of-the-fae @here2vibe @dabislittleprincess @dabislittlemouse @zephoncocaine @kowalsqq @lovingandenjoying @ravenskit @stealingyourturts @crunchtits @byebyeeye @wanhedavaliquette @toastycp @diplotzakkaistriftatsigara @redmilligan @endlessfreaky @noonasaryn

#Dabi x reader #touya x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya x you #touya x y/n #Dabi #touya todoroki #soft dabi #angst #pining #slow burn

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aliveinacoffin · 9 months

Note

Okokokokok, i haven’t asked for a fic in years but could you do a Miguel x Reader where the reader is a spider person who is also physicist from a different universe and it’s like late night coffee talks with miguel in the society.

Raaaaaaaaah i feel like miguel just has such a fucked up sleep schedule, so i think it’d be cute to have someone join him :)

omg yes ofcc this seems so soft wwefhaehjafh you guys mak me mentally ill, you also make me do research like a NERD because I know next to nothing about atoms n nerd shit /lh /j

Coffee For Us

Honestly, running into your scary ass boss at nearly three in the morning almost made you shit bricks, but the second? The third? It almost seemed like he was doing it on purpose.

TW!:none, other than some fluff :)

Divider credits to @cafekitsune!

Requests are still open!!!

You sighed, perching your glasses on top of your head. The only sound that filled the pristine white room was the coffee maker, the steady pour of its hot contents filling you with a familiar peace. You rubbed your eyes hard, black vision filling with stars. You missed your spider senses going off, that familiar tingling in your head ignored. You opened your eyes, blinded by bright artificial blue and blood red filling your sights. The colors made your head swim, and you stumbled back. Gaining your vision back, you were greeted by the sight of the man who was technically your boss, even if he didn't pay you. You flustered immediately, face heating up and snapping wide awake.

"Jesus, I didn't see you there." You sighed, clutching a hand over your heart.

"Sorry." He sighed, rustling through the white cupboards for something.

"It's fine, just late-night jitters you know." You laughed awkwardly, rubbing your arm as you watched him. You knew he worked odd hours, often working overtime more often than not. It was obvious now too, deep eyebags and unshaven stubble on his tanned skin on his face.

"Sure." The coffee pot stopped, signifying it was done creating what it was designed for. You poured yourself a hearty cup, in preparation for the long night ahead of you. You were trying to see if you could create teleportation, because if a man could create cross-dimensional portals then god damn you could create teleportation, atoms be damned.

Miguel watched you with tired eyes, holding a bright neon pink coffee cup that said ‘IT’S MY GODDAMN BIRTHDAY BITCH!’ in bold black lettering. You snickered while pouring his mug.

“Good choice Sir.” You eyed the cup, before looking back up at him. When you turned away to put the pot back in its place, Miguel took a glance down, sighing when he realized the cup he had picked.

“I don’t know why these cups are even in here.” He sighed, bringing up the drink to his plump lips.

“I think they’re funny.” You shrugged, sipping your cup as well. “Plus, there’s worse ones in there, I’m sure.” You shrugged, looking sound the dark room. After hours, a lot of the lights in the Spider Society were kept off manually to be turned on when needed. When sunrise hit, all the lights would flick on, illuminating the white castle.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, pinche menso’s can't take anything seriously.” Miguel shook his head, ruffling his peppered hair. His messy hair only looking messier, but it didn’t look unattractive. You looked away, trying not to think such thoughts about your boss.

“I think it’s funny, you shouldn’t take everything so seriously, that doesn’t sound fun at all.” You shook your head, smiling softly as to show you meant no offense.

Miguel snorted in response, turning around to sulk somewhere else. You shrugged, walking your own way back to your workstation.

A couple of days later, you found yourself in the same situation, seeking out a late-night cup of coffee after a session of going nowhere. Back in the breakroom closest to you, you grabbed an apple and shoved it in your pocket as you started a new pot of coffee.

“That didn’t seem like a bad pot. What a waste.” A voice sighed from behind you, and turned around, relaxing when you saw it was Miguel.

“It was cold and sitting you for god knows how long.” You sniffed, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“You’ve never heard of a microwave?” Miguel shook his head, blindly reaching out to grab another cup.

“Gross, absolutely disgusting.” You laughed slightly, shaking your head as you gave him an incredulous look. He merely shrugged, leaning on the white counter as he listened to the rhythmic drip drip drip of the coffee. You saw his eyes wander to the bulge in your lab coat, and you grabbed the apple, showing it off to him.

“It’s not good for you to eat so late.” He reprimanded, shaking his head.

“It’s not for eating,” You shook your head, tossing the fruit in the air and catching it in one swift movement. “It’s for experimenting.” You smirked, putting it back in your large pocket and shuffling around your other pocket to fish out a pen and notebook.

“Experimenting what?” Miguel asked because even as smart and involved with the society as he was, he couldn’t be involved with every experiment and test the spiders did.

“Teleportation!” You smiled, opening your notebook to him, and he tried to read over your crazy writing and decipher your excited doodles.

“I already did that.” He was hunched over, arms crossed while he leaned over the desk to read your writing. His eyes flicked up to you, bright red irises watching your reaction.

You rolled your eyes, uncrossing your own arms to let them fall uselessly at your side.

“Dimensional teleportation. That’s super long and not exactly easily done. What I want is to make it as quick as a button, to teleport from one side.” You sidestepped, only moving a couple of feet to the right of you. “To the other.”

He hummed, raising his eyebrows as he leaned up back to his full terrifying height.

“Well, good luck with that. I had an AI to help me with the goober, I can’t imagine how long it will take on your own.” The coffee pot was now half full.

“It’s actually going surprisingly well. At first, I tried doing cool like, disappearing effect thing, since it looked cooler and it was like a video game, but then it opened up a whole new world of questions. What would happen to your body? Was a new one being created? What would happen to one’s memories? So now I’m trying to make it sort of like a door. Where I infuse the technology with the watch, to make it easier for us to carry around. As to the how I’m still trying to work out the kinks, for now, I can open a two-way portal. Like walking through a blanket to another place. But anything I open the ‘door’ dies on its way out. I’ve turned like, ten apples to mush at this point, and if I’m going to be honest, it’s driving me insane.” You laughed, catching your breath after your long and nonsensical rant.

At this point, the coffee pot was full, and Miguel was pouring himself a cup of the hot liquid. Still, despite your slightly crazed rambling, he was attentive paying attention. He poured your empty cup, making unbroken eye contact with you.

“Sounds interesting, I could help you out one day if you don’t mind.” He shrugged, pushing himself off the counter. He stayed still, staring you down while you blushed.

“I-if you want to! I don’t mind at all.” Your eyes flickered down to look anywhere else but his handsome face, and you found yourself deliriously laughing at his choice of cup. Miguel looked down, sighing in defeat at the sight.

It as a plain white cup, with the words “Slap my ass like a drum papi’ on it.

“Seriously, when will they grow up.” He sighed, taking a sip on his way out.

“Hopefully ever!” You called out, leaving the opposite way as him t continue your adventure.

You were so close, you just knew it. The next night, you found yourself in the same position as yesterday. Making a cup of coffee late at night. This time, you had simply taken the whole fruit bowl, not wanting to waste another moment of your precious time. The teleporter was slowly but surely coming together. After months of pouring blood, sweat, and tears into the project, you knew you were on the verge of a breakthrough.

“Are you still working on your teleporter?” Miguel's familiar voice rumbled from behind you, but you didn’t bother to look up from your notebook. You had set up your phone in a way so that you could continue your nonsensical notes, hand moving faster than lighting as you jotted down whatever was in your mind.

“I never stopped working.” You rasped, the sound of your voice evidence of your exhaustion.

“Oh.” He sounded taken aback. “Why not? You need as much rest as you can to be at one hundred percent.” Hypocrite.

“I’m so close, I can feel it.” You shook your head, rocking on the balls of your feet as excitement shot through you.

“How?” He asked, and you could hear the click! of cups as he searched for a coffee mug.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged shaking your head. “Spider-sense?” You twitched your nose as you started a new sketch, a diagram of how to fully complete the damn thing.

“That’s stupid.” He deadpanned, and you looked up, back cracking as you fully stood up straight.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have any.” You stuck your tongue out, flexing your stiff fingers. He raised his eyebrows at that, and let out a small chuckle.

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” He rolled his eyes, crouching down to fish out a snack from the bottom drawer.

You shrugged, going back to review what you had just written down. You heard the cabinet shut, and shuffling to the side of you, bu you paid no mind.

“That’s wrong.” A blue finger popped into view, tapping on one of the equations you had put down.

“What? How?” You looked up at Miguel. Not backing out where he had stepped into your space. You always thought he would be cold, his suit would probably suck up any warmth he emitted. But in actuality, he was very warm. He wasn’t swelteringly hot, instead, he was cozy warm, like a calm camp fire. He smelt like expensive cologne and slightly of sweat, but somehow the two scents intermingled into a pleasant musk. Like a worn shirt that could be washed, but didn’t need to be.

“You carried the X when you should’ve solved for it, then multiplied the answer when you should’ve halved it.” Miguel explained, moving his finger away, but not himself. His face was uncovered from the neck up, giving you a full view of his handsome face. His fangs poked out barely from behind his lips, crooked teeth just visible.

Oh, thank you sir.” You breathed, attention split between his mouth and his gorgeous eyes.

“You don’t have to call me sir, Miguel is fine.” He breathed back, copying your movement. Neither of you moved from each other's spot. It wasn’t as if this was your first time interacting, you and Miguel have had many run in’s in the past, and he seemed to yell at you slightly less than the others. But you two hadn’t really had personal one on one time with each other, and it seemed like the more you had them, the more you two seemed to be magnetized to each other.

“Thank you, Miguel.” You cleared your throat, and the two of you stepped back, faces warming with the realization of what just happened.

“Of course.” He nodded stiffly, and the coffee pot dinged, breaking the awkward silence.

He poured you a cup first, then himself. You laughed when you saw what he grabbed this time.

It was a cup with cat girls all over it, their coverage varying from girl to girl. They all said different things, ranging from just a simple ‘Meow!’ to ‘Please pet me everywhere Nyaa~!’

“Oh my god, whose cup even is that!” you covered your mouth as you laughed.

“I have no idea, and I don’t want to know.” Miguel rolled his eyes, a deep frown on his face. His eyes flickered back to you, watching you with soft eyes as you laughed at him. You wiped away the tears in your eyes, your face hurting from the wide smile on your face.

“If you really are as close as you think you are, I’d be willing to help you.” He offered, shrugging one shoulder while he avoided eye contact.

“Hmm? Oh, yes! Please! I just know I’m almost done.” You made a pinching motion with your fingers, inching them together. He nodded, walking over to the main table and grabbing a bowl of fruit.

“Alright.” He smiled softly, letting you lead the way. “Let’s figure this out.” You both left the dark breakroom, coffee pot left mostly empty.

#miguel o'hara x reader fluff #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara fluff #they're so old parents #my teeth hurt from this fluff #anyways back to writing darkfics

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betweenlands · 1 month

Text

reblogged all the positivity from yesterday so i can Make My Own Post TM about the epidemic of "this should've been a miniseries" -- because pacing-wise, tone-wise, plot-wise, Ocean should never have been three hours long. it's one of Legs's longest non-compilation videos and it is also full of a lot of... not much happening besides the same core gameplay loop.

that'd be fine if i was looking for podcast/"second monitor" content that i could put on in the background while i do something else, but 100DMV is an ARG. there is no reason to make a video this long for a series that is, secretly or not, part of a running plotline. the two are at odds with each other. an ARG needs to be something you want to give your full attention to, make sure you aren't missing anything, pick apart and rewatch multiple times to analyze strange details. a three-hour video is directly hostile to that and a timesink for no reason.

i don't have a problem with longer videos -- there's a reason i cite hbomberguy as my usual exception to the Three Hour Balk Point -- but with Legundo's stuff, i'm increasingly finding it just doesn't have the same substance to hold together its own runtime. i mean, Ocean is longer than:

Sculk Apocalypse (kind of on the long side and could be shorter, but generally uses that runtime to keep a strong sense of tension and fighting to survive. has a very strong hook, multiple "time limits," and a clearly defined endgoal from the start.)

Undercover (a video with Legs actively trying to pretend he's not playing on the server he's playing on, consisting of secret community interaction, cool builds, the potential for a lot of lore drops, and a clearly defined time limit/endgoal from the start.)

Nights (the S1 finale of 100DMV, containing a whole bunch of separate mods to tinker with that hadn't previously been seen before, a good deal of lore, uses its runtime to keep a strong sense of tension and fighting to survive)

the Zombie Apocalypse scenario (full of interpersonal tactics and tension, contained a lot of person-to-person interaction and discussion, had a clearly defined time limit/endgoal from the start)

Dimensional Doors (the video that got me into 100DMV! full of strong plot beats, had variety but began cutting stuff when the dungeon pockets got too repetitive, contained a good deal of lore. also had the bonus of namechecking a mod i knew, recognized, and enjoyed that then made up a good deal of the playthrough's runtime)

the entirety of Deceit Season One, including the wrap-up episode (I DON'T NEED TO TELL YOU HOW INSANE DECEIT MAKES ME. JUST. HUH???)

and then there's the one i suspect started it all, the Game of Thrones scenario.

the GoT scenario is long. it clocks in at a little under 3 hours. but the difference between GoT and a lot of the other long videos is that it uses every single second of its runtime. there is a clearly defined endgoal and a time limit for that endgoal. there are a lot of different mods that play off each other and are used in interesting ways for interesting tactics (as well as smart use of vanilla mechanics). it has clearly defined sections for people that don't want to binge-watch all at once (including one that is pointed out to the viewer in-video as a good time to take a breather). it has, and this is critical, multiple running subplots owing to the fact that there are somewhere in the neighborhood of 50+ players on the server, most of whom are working for one team or another.

GoT works because of interaction between other players. a singleplayer quest for the Iron Throne would not feel nearly as tense or engaging -- but because there's a great deal of interpersonal politics, planning, and battle tactics, it keeps up the variety and nicely flows between downtime, negotiations, and battles. and, because there are multiple players in the conflict, something is always happening offscreen. the world of GoT isn't static, and doesn't only change when Legundo Specifically does something. it is always changing, all the time, when even a single person is logged in, and it means that there is no possible way to get stuck in one gameplay loop for too long because someone is always going to either finish that loop or throw a curveball into it from completely offscreen.

i've made my peace with Haunted Winter being so long, even though it probably should've been a four-part miniseries with one episode per each season. it still has those clearly defined "season" segments, has multiple mods that are being used in different ways at different times, and contains both a known time-limit and interesting editing that keeps up a decently strong sense of tension. it's also the S2 finale of 100DMV, so i can understand how it'd run a little long.

but, and i cannot stress this enough, there is no good reason Ocean -- which consists almost exclusively of a core "loot ships, return to current base, build/mine, loot ships" gameplay loop with no real variation until the mod in the thumbnail really comes into play on day 74 -- should be three hours long. there's no good reason for it to be longer than GoT, than Sculk Apocalypse, than Deceit S1. in the time it takes to watch Ocean, i could rewatch most of Deceit S2. if i set the Ocean video to loop and walked away, i could go rewatch every single Dominion episode that Legundo has ever uploaded and come back in time to find the Ocean video only partway through its third loop.

i really hope this doesn't keep happening. 100DMV used to be something i could recommend without caveats, at the most go "it's got some slightly clickbaity intros, and it might start a little slow, but it picks up quickly and stays really good." now i'm in a situation where the second season runs incredibly long and i genuinely don't know if i'd tell people to get into it anymore -- because right now, at the pace the story is progressing, with the length of videos being put out, it just is not worth the time investment.

i like 100DMV. i like 100DMV a lot. i mean, i'm writing a multichapter fanfiction about it, of course i like it. but if i hadn't gotten into it when i did, with an hour-and-a-half long video about Dimensional Doors, i would be seeing 2-3 hour long videos in my recommended, shrug and go "nah," and then go watch something else.

and this frustrates me. i know 100DMV can be good. i know 100 Days videos can be tightly edited, engaging, interesting fiction with a lot of strong plot hooks despite having a fairly repetitive gameplay loop. i know there's got to be a way to fix this, but i can't do that. all i can do is point out how it comes across to a specific subsection of the audience and hope that it doesn't just come across as needless bashing on something kind of popular.

because it's not. i say all this because i love storytelling in MCYT videos -- it's why i've been here for so long. i say all this because i don't want it to become a lost art for more and more people because long videos do better in Youtube's algorithm.

#long post //#yt #txt #orig #dominioners #<- sorting tag; sorry and hope nobody's checking this as a maintag still #salt #solar scraps #<- it IS storytelling analysis i think i have a right

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mimisempai · 2 years

Text

With a little help from my friend

Summary:

Loki prepares a surprise for Mobius with the help of Croki. It was without counting on the bad weather.

Notes:

So happy to write this for Rina on the All About Lokius discord server as part of the fic/art prompt swap. That was an amazing prompt to work on.

On AO3

Rating G - 1376

Loki rolled up his sleeves.

"Here is perfect!"

"Fnnarl!"

Loki looked down at Croki and replied, "Yes, do you agree? You'd really have to be picky. A white sandy beach, the cloudless sky."

"Fnrlll Fraal."

"What, the weather is going to change? Are you a meteorologist now? Well, you stay here, I'll get everything and be right back. You have the right to show your teeth to anyone who comes near this place."

Croki gave him a sort of machiavellian smile that showed all his teeth.

Loki looked at the little list he had made with the help of Casey and Hunter B-15.

Loki looked at the little list he had made with the help of Casey and Hunter B-15. His two friends had been a great help and had even agreed to keep Mobius busy while he prepared this surprise. They were working so hard right now, and Mobius more than the others, so Loki wanted to give them a little time apart.

Candles

Blankets

Mobius' Favorite Snacks

Josta Cocktail

Jetski

He had everything in his dimensional pocket, all he needed was the jetski. He walked back along the beach where he had spotted rental stores.

Since he had granted Mobius' wish the first time, he never missed an opportunity for Mobius to enjoy his favorite hobby. Nothing was more beautiful to see than Mobius' joy as he rode his jetski through the waves. So free and so happy.

As he returned to Croki after arranging the delivery of the jetski to their beach spot, he replayed in his mind the organization of their little evening.

He couldn't help but chuckle when he saw someone running away while Croki grunted as a brave little protector of the little beach spot.

He leaned toward him, "My brave little alligator! You'll get a great reward when we get home."

"Fbaarrl" Croki growled proudly.

Loki clapped his hands, "Okay. Here we go."

He pulled everything he needed from his dimensional pocket.

"First the blanket."

He spread out a shimmering colored blanket.

"Fnarrrl."

"Yes, I know. I was the one who picked it out. I have good taste, don't I?"

"Pfffrt"

"I see Mister Croki is laughing at me. Maybe I'll lower your reward after all."

"Fnaaaaarrrl"

"Hey!"

Loki felt a little nip on his ankle.

"Well okay, a full reward."

He took out four candles, which he charmed so they wouldn't die out, and placed them in the four corners of the blanket.

He took out a cool box and began to nicely present everything he had prepared.

"Mr. Loki?"

He turned around and a young man dressed as a surfer asked, "We brought the jetski." He pointed to the car nearby with the jetski on the trailer and continued, "Where do you want us to put it."

Loki pointed to the sea, "Over there at the end of that jetty."

"All right."

Loki didn't worry about them and continued his preparations.

He brought out dishes lined with various and sundry petit fours, placed on a nice bed of green salad.

"Fnnnrllak."

"Yes, yes, this is the freshest salad I could find."

"Fnaral."

Loki sighed, "Yes I know I ruined his salad once. I was there."

"Fnnnrl."

"What? How can you say he doesn't like cheese crackers. You've never seen him gobble them up when we watch TV. I should consider myself lucky to be able to eat one."

Loki pulled out the two cocktail glasses he had charmed to keep them cool and not spill. He was proud to have found a cocktail made with Josta and red wine.

"No, no, no Croki, not for you. Last time you licked a drop of beer you scared half the TVA!"

"Fnnnnrl."

"You know I'm right."

Loki stood up and checked to make sure everything was ready, he turned to the jetty, the jetski was firmly in place. The sun was starting to meet the line of the sea, it was perfect.

He turned his hand to use his magic and change. He was in a swimsuit and green sarong that he knew flattered his figure and the little finishing touch, a tiare flower in his hair.

"Frrrlll"

"It's not you I want to please, so I don't care what you think. Come on, I'll get Mobius to come, shoo shoo!"

"Fnnnnrrrl" Croki let out a long disapproving growl before moving quietly under a palm tree.

Loki pulled out his tempad, "Casey, it's okay you can bring him in, I'll send you the coordinates."

A few moments later, Mobius crossed the time door right next to what Loki had prepared.

"Loki? Loki! Wow!"

Loki stepped forward with a smile and bowed slightly, "Welcome."

Mobius looked around and then back at Loki, his eyes full of admiration, "I'm repeating myself, but wow, this is gorgeous, you... you're gorgeous."

Then he looked at himself and said softly, "I look a little bit out of place."

Loki smiled mischievously, "Nothing I can't fix, my love."

He waved his hand and Mobius found himself dressed in a sarong that matched Loki's, but in orange tones. "There, Perfect."

Loki walked over and, tying his arms around Mobius's neck, he said softly, "Now, you just enjoy this night, forget about everything that isn't us, okay?"

Mobius pushed a strand of hair that was flying behind Loki's ear and replied, "Absolutely okay, my good fairy."

Loki chuckled, "So if I'm the good fairy, then you're the prince. I just hope you don't let me down when the clock strikes twelve."

Mobius kissed the tip of his nose, "Not a chance."

Then Loki turned to the jetty, pointing to the jetski, "And if my prince wants to..."

Mobius shook his head and replied, "I'm more interested in enjoying you and what you have prepared for me, sweetheart."

Loki pulled him towards the blanket and at that moment the wind blew away the flower in his hair and he noticed that clouds were gathering in the sky.

"No, no, no!!! " he began to panic, "That damn alligator was right when he told me it was going to rain. My surprise is completely ruined!"

Mobius calmed him down by putting his hand on his shoulder, "Loki, sweetie, calm down. It doesn't matter. It's already wonderful that you've organized this sur..."

Mobius looked up, gasped and continued almost in a whisper, "…..prise"

"What?" Loki was surprised at Mobius' reaction.

"That." Mobius pointed above them, Loki saw that a green dome was unfolding over the two of them, enclosing them in a protective bubble.

Mobius embraced Loki and exclaimed, "Loki, this is great! You had a brilliant idea."

Loki, dumbfounded, with his chin on Mobius' shoulder replied, "Me? But I don't-"

He interrupted himself because he saw Croki, a little far away, who had put one of his claws on his mouth as if to say shhh and winked at him.

Loki smiled widely and whispered without sound, so that Croki could understand him, "Double reward."

Croki waved one of his little fingers and music seemed to come out of nowhere.

I'm so in love with you

Whatever you want to do

Is all right with me

'Cause you make me feel so brand new

And I want to spend my life with you

Loki stepped aside and held out his hand to Mobius in an elegant manner, "Will my prince dance with me?"

Mobius smiled and grasped the outstretched hand, "Lead me."

Loki tied his arms around Mobius' neck and whispered as his lover placed his hands on the god's waist, "For all time, always."

Then they began to sway to the music.

Let me say that since, baby, since we've been together

Ooh, loving you forever

Is what I need

Let me, be the one you come running to

I'll never be untrue

Oh baby

Let's, let's stay together ('gether)

Lovin' you whether, whether

Times are good or bad, happy or sad

Their eyes lost in each other, alone in their world, they did not see Croki who also moved his snout to the rhythm of the music.

Loving you whether, whether

Times are good or bad, happy or sad

Come on

Let's, woo (let's stay together) let's stay together

Loving you whether, whether times are good or bad.

So happy to write this for @rins-love-wins on the All About Lokius discord server as part of the fic/art prompt swap That was an amazing prompt to work on !

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Lokius masterlist : here

#lokius fics #lokius #loki series #loki #mobius m. mobius #moki #wowki #lokius rights #lokius forever #loki x mobius #fluff #mobius m mobius #tooth rotting fluff #established relationship #slow dancing #loki alligator #croki

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kastle09 · 2 years

Text

5 Australian players who can make Capcom Cup

CPT stops in Australia this weekend and given that UNGA World Warrior is also underway I wanted to put my two cents out there on who might be a pick to take one of the two spots.

There are a few people missing from this list (‘8.5 people who have a chance’ didn’t make a good title) so I'll have some honourable mentions towards the end, but here are my Top 5 players who you should be looking out for over the weekend and for World Warrior.

#5 - Bksama

Urien

Intel World Open Champion, UNGA Season 4 Champion.

Bk represents a trait I often spout to new players which is that an okay-ish decision made quickly can often be better than the best option made too late. The traces of the Sydney scramble trace its origins back to one player, that being Bk. His pace and tempo often forces opponents into playing at his speed which only a few can do well whether attempting to emulate him or try to keep up in a match against Bk.

In the Australian scene, long the term “ex.dp” and “Bk” are often used interchangeably and with his main character, Urien, having his taken away, it’s a wonder if Bk can still make results happen. A second place in the first World Warrior shows he is more than capable with the tools he has, and can make it work.

If Bk reads this he may exclaim to you that he has changed mains to another character (I’m betting it’s Kolin now after Kawano’s win). Do not believe his lies. But, that familiarity with a few different characters has proved useful in the past and I expect an occasional flavour of the month can help him especially in first to 2 matches. When trying for wins against the Top echelon though, he tends to get stuck in a place where his tried and true may yet not be enough and the Alts are not practised enough, especially in First to Three setting. The Character Crisis may yet prove the downfall.

Of the two competitions I think Bk would be stronger in the AUS CPT setting.

#4 - Somniac

M.Bison

UNGA Season 2 Champion, Warlord Ranked #1 Oceanic Region

There was something that Nezs (KillerQueen) said during our UNGA Season 1 preview show that really stuck with me about Som. Being one of the longest standing names still at the top, a lot of players build their game around defeating Som first. He is usually your first bracket demon or Ranked adversary as you enter. And as such, he is one of the most studied players/matchups in OCE. Despite that he is still on top and always in the conversation.

I used to paint Somniac’s playstyle very one dimensional; Very good defensively, very runaway on life leads, not as strong on comebacks as other players in this list, can’t play as fast. Especially those last two points though, I have been wrong on more occasions than otherwise, and it’s most notable against the players who are in that intermediate to high rank that can think a step ahead but not a step further. You cannot be the Highest ranked player in the region (by a very large stretch) and not be in the conversation.

M.Bison has been a mixed bag, especially since the V-Shift changes. Some things have helped him, some things have hindered him, and after all the characters changing around him he appears to be about a similar strength to where he was previously. If only, his strong tools have now changed around though still nothing significant. An Ed in the back pocket for Som is also an interesting venture for those who believe he is a one trick character pony.

A threat in both, UNGA might be where Somniac has the greatest opportunity given a Top 8 leaderboard finish in every season thus far.

#3 - Rumours

Cody

Capcom Cup 2020 Champion, UNGA Season 6 Champion, OHN 2019 Champion

Currently overseas this past weekend featuring at EVO, Rumours is on a run to hunt for a Second CPT win. Where I think Rumours is at his best is in long sets where he has had time to prep. The example I always think of is his UNGA Season 1 matchup against Rank 1 Leader, pahnda. As a first vs eight seed match, it was one that should not have been close and it was not … he steamrolled over pahnda, sending him to losers.

While Cody is great at making comebacks, I don’t think its necessarily the reasons Rumours is good at making them in either rounds or sets. Unlike most of the players in Sydney, the ability to stay calm under pressure, regardless of any precedents that have happened, is what has won him a lot of rounds that he probably had no business in winning. Winning by Attrition is only matched by Somniac and Travis most notably which why the three of them usually have rounds that hit below 10 seconds.

In his debut season it seemed like Cody was only a trigger monster, but the neutral tools were a little underrated. With a few buffs later Cody has wandered into a spot that is much more well rounded allowing his nuanced strengths to show even more. While no longer necessary to have an alt, a giggling Honda is awaiting in the wings.

He will be a threat if he gets to day 2 of any event. So a Top 8 Winners side in CPT or a Finalist for UNGA will automatically make him a big threat to take the whole thing. If the jet lag travelling back to Australia from the US isn’t an issue for him, I can imagine the level up of being overseas, playing and practicing with players stronger than him will allow him to hit the ground running through the bracket this weekend.

#2 - TravisStyles

Balrog

Capcom Cup 2021 Champion, UNGA Season 3 Champion

One trait I think Travis has over all the other players on this list is he very rarely gets upset in bracket. First to 2 by nature can be quite volatile and upsets happen even to the best players out there, but there are only a few players that have a good shot against Travis and pretty much all of those players are also in the running for the win. Top 8 is often a guarantee and reaching at least Semi-finals is very likely.

While often a favourite going into any competition, something you will hear most commentators say (including myself), I think he would even acknowledge that the competition is closer at the top level then most people realise. The fact that he is the most visible as the top player to a more general audience is no accident. It's a title he has been at least in the running for, if not owning for sometime now, but all the names on this list plus a select few others are more than capable of clinching it in front of him. This is a feat we saw during the UNGA series with a total of three runner up finishes.

Balrog’s VS2 has had some significant downgrades in recent times. In fact, a lot of the strengths he pointed out in the post interview with Jammerz on ‘Sets’ have taken a bit of a hit (jinxed). While Chun has really been the only other notable alternative, I don’t think we will see it in either competition as her strengths no longer really compliment the problems he was playing against. I think loyalist is the wrong word for Travis and Balrog, What is more accurate is making sure he gets the most out of whatever character he puts into competition. A skill level and mindset that I can see has developed in how he has approached multiple games in the past (Starcraft 2 and MK most notably)

If you asked me a year ago, I would rank Travis #1 OCE and I still might. But while I’m sure he has a good chance in both competitions, I think there is one more player who might be even more a surefire fit.

#1 - R!OT| ROF

Birdie

BAM 2022 Champion, UNGA Season 6 Rank #1, Two time Gifinity Champion

A night before Gfinity back in 2018 we had an FGC Mafia night. Within 3 seconds of opening my eyes he looked at me, pointed and said “you’re mafia”. I haven’t felt more naked in my entire life.

During that year ROF was the best player in Australia, and that is based on not just the achievements he had, or just passively watching as a Caster. The Yomi God was the most named player by his peers in the scene. Because of Gfinity’s TVish demeanour, it meant he got typecast as a Villain during the series which while unfair in retrospect; but you cannot be selected as the Villain if you aren’t also one of the best.

When the pandemic initially hit ROF was missing in action from most of the online tournaments only making occasional appearances. The online era was a struggling burden for a lot of the community, learning how to deal with our lives both in relation to the game and real life.

I think as we let time pass, we forgot. Birdie was taking a bit of a hit, and it seemed like every tier list we would see, he would be lower and lower. Both Birdie mains and alts were switching him out for other characters. Stronger, more consistent. We kinda just forgot how good ROF was. We would occasionally see glimpses of Seth and Juri and others as well, but it all felt like a testing ground waiting to head back offline, which didn’t quite happen.

That was until the beginning of 2022 when he came roaring back, dominating UNGA and Couchwarriors Ranbats. Continuous back to back performances everywhere, both online and offline.

When we got to Battle Arena Melbourne, it felt clear to me that Schenkhan was the strongest player that weekend, dominating his way into the Grand Finals, including sending ROF to the losers bracket. But there is something when you are in a battle with ROF. The audience goes away, the technical knowledge disappears and you get stuck in a world where you’re staring at him and asking yourself “Does he know what I’m going to do?”.

Risky options, safe options, weighing up risk reward all these calculations in your head whether coin flips or could be 90% in your favour, it’s still a percentage. You can play your best, be technically correct and still lose. That can be just how it goes sometimes, and when it happens, ROF is usually sitting across from you.

More than anything about ROF he is a proven winner and doesn’t just beat the other top players but can make them look incredibly dumb. With two opportunities now, I can’t see a world in which he doesn’t make it (unless I’ve just jinxed it… YES !).

Honourable Mentions

Schenkhan - Sacrificing himself for TO duties for UNGA has meant he has all his eggs in Aus CPT this weekend. Has beaten every one of the other players on this list with multiple tournament ready characters. Flexible, technical, a strong contender.

GhostChips - Seen during CEO not too long ago and can also participate in only one of the competitions like Schen. No disrespect to the other Kiwis but for me, Chips is the best chance for a New Zealand Representative at Capcom Cup.

pahnda - pahnda has been getting more attention to an International audience over the past two year and many have sat up and taken notice. But, he has had an unfortunate habit of falling short on occasion many times. Of all the top players, he can have some of the highest highs and lowest lows. That said, a win is certainly within reach.

_____________________________________

These are of course just my thoughts, and you are more than welcome to disagree. Regardless of who makes it, I am incredibly proud of the OCE community and will be backing whoever will make it for the last hurrah of SFV.

#SFV #World Warrior #Capcom Cup #CPT

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thiesen94shannon · 2 years

Text

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Babysitter

Harry Gardner x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: infidelity, cheating which is a HUGE no no but for the purposes of the fic I made Harry and Doris more strained and Doris isn’t pregnant

Author’s Note: I have a hard time with cheating but I couldn’t not do babysitter and Harry lol. I hope you enjoy!

Requested: by anon, omgggg that harry fic was so good and just what i had hoped for!! thank you sm!!! ☺️😫😫 also as you asked i am now here to also request harry x babysitter!reader ☺️☺️

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

In your defense, you were in between jobs. You had just gotten out of college and you had quit your day job as you got more and more interviews for your desired field. But it was taking longer than you had anticipated and you didn’t really have time to find a job that was going to be a long term thing so you did the first thing you thought of.

Babysitting.

It was easy, you could just pick up one family and you could drop them again when you got a full time job. Hopefully it wouldn’t take that long.

You put out a few feelers and got a call from Doris Gardner, asking if you would come and meet her and her family. You were happy someone called and on the phone Doris sounded like a decent lady. Not crazy like some of the people in this town.

You stood in front of the house. You weren’t sure who had lived there before they moved in but the house was nice and rustic. Fit into the town nice. The door opened and you put a smile on your face before you even saw who it was.

“Oh hello! You must be the babysitter. Y/N right?” a man asked you kindly. You were a bit struck by his beauty for a moment. You had seen pretty people in your life but no one like him, not in this town. You cleared your throat and nodded.

“Hi! Yes, Doris called me to come and meet her?”

“I’m the dad, Harry. Come on in, Doris will be here in a second.” You nodded and walked past him into the house. The indoor was a little rough. There were random colored tiles around the counters, carpet pieces, and some floral prints. Clearly someone was trying to redecorate. Trying and slightly failing but hey, maybe it just wasn’t your taste.

“So how many kids do you have?” you asked.

“Just the one. Alma. She’s nine.” You nodded once and turned around to look at him.

“That makes my job easy. If I get the job,” you said, laughing gently. “What do you do?”

“I’m a writer. Screenplays,” he explained. Your eyes went wide.

“That’s really awesome! I love movies. Anything I would have seen?” He put his hands in his front pants pockets.

“Probably not. I’ve done a few pilots but nothing’s stuck quite yet. That’s why we’re out here, I’m hoping to find some inspiration,” he explained. You smiled gently and looked out the back window. There was a nice view of the water. He got lucky.

“Well I hope you find some sort of inspiration. It’s quiet out here but we get tons of writers. I think it’s the charm and the interesting cast of characters,” you admitted. He smiled a bit.

“How interesting?” You shrugged.

“I just got back from college so it’s been a minute since I lived here for very long. But we’ve got the crackheads which aren’t as two dimensional as people think. The famous writers who come down. Rich people who hole up here and refuse to go to the grocery stores. Regular people like me, just trying to get by. Everyone’s got a story Harry Gardner, you just gotta dig in,” you explained.

Harry liked you immediately. You had a descriptive mind and a mysterious aura. You were alluring.

“Harry, is that the babysitter?” you heard a female voice from upstairs. She came down quickly, turning around the stairs to look at you. You gave her a kind smile and she gave you one back as she approached you.

“Yeah, this is Y/N. We were just talking about the town.”

“I’m born and raised, I was just trying to give him some writing inspiration,” you explained as you shook her hand. She let out a sigh of relief.

“He could use it. I just wanted to talk to you in person about Alma and make sure you weren’t a crackhead,” she said, laughing a bit nervously. “I can assure you, I’m not. I have references, granted it’s been a couple years since I babysat. I’ve done other jobs since then though.” You handed Doris the paper you had printed out and she took it easily, looking it over.

“Perfect. You know, I don’t really think I need to look over these much. Harry and I want to go out soon and you seem like a nice woman. Would you like to meet Alma?”

“Sure!”

“Alma!” Doris called. You waited in silence for a moment as a child came pouncing down the stairs. You smiled gently at her, though her resting face seemed quite intimidating. “Alma, this is the babysitter, Y/N.”

“I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself.”

“You’re right,” you said. “Think of me as someone who’s here in case of emergencies and to make you food. Like a maid.”

“Oh don’t give her ideas,” Harry said, laughing.

Alma looked you over and crossed her arms. You all waited in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“Do you like the violin?”

“I’ve never played but I love the sound. It’s beautiful.” She nodded once.

“I can deal with her.” Doris rolled her eyes.

“Be nice Alma. I’m sorry, she’s forward.” You shook your head.

“It’s alright. I like forward people. Keeps me from guessing.” Harry gave you a lingering look. Suddenly he wanted to write something.

===

“I really think you should wear that one. It compliments your eyes,” your friend said, pointing to the other outfit you had out. You scoffed.

“It’s just a stupiud club, it doesn’t matter this much,” you tried to remind yourself. You were about to say something else when your phone rang. You and your friend looked over at your buzzing phone as you picked it up.

“Who is it?”

“Harry Gardner,” you said before picking up. Your friend raised her eyebrows, giving you a suggestive look. You waved her off, putting the phone to your ear. “Hey Harry, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry to call you so unexpected but do you think you could come over tonight?”

“Sure. Are you and Doris going out?” He was silent for a second.

“Just come over.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.” You hung the phone up. “Looks like I’m babysitting tonight, oh darn.” Your friend rolled her eyes.

“You’ve been babysitting for the dilf next door for a whole month and you haven’t made a move and for what?!” she asked. You put the clothes down on your bed to put away when you got back.

“He’s married.”

“Yeah to a wife that practically resents him and he resents her. Don’t act like that isn’t true, the whole town can see it.” You hit her gently as you passed her.

“Get out of my apartment. Lock up when you leave.”

===

You got to the Gardners in under twenty minutes. You knocked on the door and it opened almost instantly like Harry was waiting for you on the other side.

“Hey Harry. It’s pretty late, where are you guys-”

“Doris is asleep. So is Alma.” You tried to hide the surprise on your face. You stepped inside and the door shut behind you.

“What did you need me here for then?”

“Can you be objective?”

“I can try.” He grabbed your hand and led you into the living room. His laptop was out and opened, the cursor blinking at the bottom of the page. He sat down on the couch and gently moved your hand down so you sat next to him. He handed you the computer. You cleared your throat. “Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

You nodded once and looked down at the laptop. You squinted and scrolled up. You began to read the couple of pages he had there. The writing flowed well. You were instantly impressed with his pose and tone. You weren’t sure what he was writing but it seemed to be a script of some sort about a woman, fresh out of college, falling in love with someone who could never have her.

You began to grow annoyed at how well he hit your emotions.

When you finished you looked up at him.

“Harry…”

“You’re the inspiration. You’re what I needed,” he said.

“This is really good,” you admitted. “The writing is beautiful. You have a gift.”

“Will you say something about the content?” You looked away from him and out at the water in the darkness. You looked back at him.

“I can’t say you’re wrong,” you breathed.

He leaned forward, turned his head and kissed you. You couldn’t ignore how good his lips felt against yours. You put your hand gently on his cheek.

Harry hadn’t been kissed like that in a long time. Like someone truly loved him and wanted to know him, know more about him. You pulled away gently, putting your forehead against his. You pulled away completely.

“You don’t get anything more until this scene is finished.”

He scoffed, leaning back on the couch.

“You’re good. You’re really good.”

AHS Tag List: @russian-soft-bitch

#harry gardner x reader #harry gardner imagines

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

part i

She comes to with a pounding in her head and the feeling of something being lifted off her chest.

Literally.

In seconds, her whole body feels lighter. The next thing she registers is a hand in hers. When she stirs, the hand around her tightens and she hears Brainy’s voice, “Director—”

The moment she opens her eyes, she is met with Alex Danvers; a stethoscope slung around her neck and a small flashlight on hand. In her periphery she confirms that it was indeed Brainy, holding her hand.

“Lena, Lena, look at me. You’re at the DEO, you’re safe, you-”

“Alex, I know the drill, this is— what? My 91st time now?” She says dryly as her hand slowly slips out of Brainy’s and her fingers massage her temples; eyes clenched shut. Alex visibly relaxes in relief, “Good. Thank fuck your sarcasm’s still intact,” she says, “But I still have to check you, alright?”

Lena nods and she guesses Kara most likely had harassed her sister just to get her hooked in. If Alex mumbling “-so damn stubborn all the damn time…” under her breath was any indication.

She’s well aware of the other person in the bed next to hers. The one, that is now also starting to stir into consciousness. Lena had just noticed that J’onn and Nia are in the room as well, near Kara’s bedside.

She wants to ask how she got here, how Kara found her, how the fuck did a Black Mercy get her? But everything is spinning and her coherence is slowly devolving to exhaustion. Her brain was pushed to its limits with that illusion.

Which makes panic flare in the back of her head thinking about how Kara had seen her ideal world.

A world, that her mind had fucking decided should center around her ex. Her ex who just happens to be a superhero. A superhero that pulled her out of her own delusions.

Oh God, Lena thinks she’s going to throw-up. Alex takes one look at her face and immediately shoves an empty sterile container to her. She dry-heaves unto the bucket as Brainy rubs her back and holds her hair.

“Fuck,” she whispers as Alex hands her a tissue to wipe her face. “Your vitals are fine. Your brain activity spiked for a few seconds there. But you got out at just the last minute-”

“What the fuck happened, Alex?”

She asks as she tries to sort out all her feelings long enough for Alex to give her a full explanation.

But it isn’t Alex who answers her.

“I found you.”

The three words are bullets flying across the room directly shot at Lena.

“Unconscious. On the floor. Black Mercy attached to your chest. That’s what fucking happened.”

Kara sounds like shit.

Was her first thought when she heard Kara speak. She guesses she looks like shit as well, but Lena can’t be certain. Her back was to her as Nia removes the wiring still wrapped around her. Her voice was firm, but Lena knew better. She knows Kara; knows she never really swears; knows when and where Kara uses the Supergirl voice. When she’s scared and she doesn’t want anybody to know.

“Your pulse was so weak. I- I could barely hear it.”

This second statement is in contrast to Supergirl’s venom. This time words catch in her throat and Lena is fucking thankful that Kara’s back was to her. Because she knows she can’t handle those eyes. But before she could answer, Alex starts to speak, eyes briefly darting to Kara.

Lena doesn’t know whether she should be thankful for the interruption or not.

“Which is why,” Alex cuts in and making sure to stress her next words, checking that Lena is listening, “I need you to stay here till we find out who did this. And as your doctor I’m saying you need at least 12 hours of rest.”

“What? No, somebody give me my phone. I need to call Jess,” she protests and Alex looks like she’s about to give Lena a piece of her mi—

“Are you kidding me right now? I found you on the floor, thinking you were dead, pulled you out of a parasitic trap and you want to go back to L-Corp? To what? Get killed again?”

This time, Kara’s two steps away from her bed and fuming. It makes Lena...feel...things.

“I have to call Jess—”

“Do you not get it? I spend my days trying so hard not to listen,” She grits out, “ To not to check in on you every single second of every day and then the one time—” Kara’s conviction crumbles, voice breaking, eyes shining.

“And then,” she falters, voice heavy with emotion and tries to control herself.

“The one time, the one fucking time I decide to break my own rule, what do I hear? I hear nothing, Lena.”

The last part is a whisper. She’s shaking and all eyes are on them now.

“Do you know why? Because your heart-rate was so slow that I couldn’t pick up on it.”

Kara looks like she’s two inches away from imploding. Lena’s heart is pounding and the room falls silent and it feels like it’s just the two of them in the room having a staredown.

“I— I’m sorry. I—”

I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to care. I’m sorry.

“Thank you for saving me,” she voices out instead in that calm methodical way she uses when talking in the lab. Amazed at how she sounded because she herself is also less than two inches away from a complete meltdown.

Kara’s shoulders visibly sag as she holds back tears. Lena knows she should probably say more but... she doesn’t really know what to say.

She was still processing everything.

It was so vivid that Lena was half-expecting to see a ring on her finger once she looks down, a stubborn part of her brain insisting that there’s a matching one in a chain around Kara’s neck.

Before Kara can say another emotional heavy statement, Lena turns to Alex instead, “Fine,” she says, agreeing to Alex’s previous order.

“But I can’t stay here for 12 hours. And also, I need my phone, my tablet and my assistant. I’m helping in the investigation,” she says leaving no room for argument.

Alex looks like she might agree but Kara speaks up again.

“No, no. No, you’re not going near that investigation and you’re staying the 12 hours here,” Kara grunts out, jaw-clenched as Lena looks at her with sharp eyes.

“You have no right to decide that for me—”

“Not to mention we have to tal— “

They both spit at each other at the same time.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Lena objects and she knows how much of a lie that is, but Kara just won’t fucking back down.

“Nothing?! You’re calling this nothing?! You’re calling the fact that your ideal world was us married, nothing? You’re telling me—” she trails off and scoffs, pinches the bridge of her nose in disbelief, “You’re unbelievable-”

That was what she meant when she said Kara was two inches away from imploding.

“Supergirl.”

J’onn’s voice seem to bring the both of them back to reality and Lena notices how heavy the air in the room has become, how Nia is standing stiffly at the side, how Alex’s eyes keep flicking between the both of them

“That’s quite enough from the both of you,” J’onn says and Kara whips around to face him, Lena was scared that she was going to deck J’onn for interrupting but Alex also intervenes.

“J’onn’s right.” She puts a hand on her sister’s shoulder turning her away from J’onn. Looks like she had the same train of thought as Lena.

“My patient needs her rest. So, all of you get out,” At which Nia nods at her with a sympathetic smile and then Brainy is hugging her whispering, “I’m glad you’re okay.” before leaving the room as well.

“And that means you too,” Alex emphasizes at Kara, who looks like she’s going to shoot lasers out of her eyes at her sister for suggesting such an incredulous notion.

But Kara takes a breath, gives Alex a hard look to which Alex merely raises a brow in challenge before taking a step back and speeding out of the room, not sparing Lena another glance.

Once everyone is gone, Lena collapses back on the bed, letting out a heavy sigh.

“She changed the timeline, you know. And reality too, I guess. Or at least she tried to.”

“What?”

“Before you two became a thing, before beating Leviathan,” Alex recounts, “She tried to change the timeline to save your friendship.”

“I’m sorry- What?”

She’s sure she looks pretty absurd with the look on her face right now. Kara did what? Kara did that? How did she not know that? How did she not know Kara literally teared apart at space and time just for her?

“She struck a bargain with a Fifth-Dimensional imp so she can fix everything. Said she’d rather change reality than face the possibility of having to fight you.”

For a moment she feels she’s going to throw-up again. But then again, after what the both of them just went through, Lena’s not surprised. God knows the lengths she would go through for Kara.

It feels even more visceral now, not to mention it was Alex who told her.

“I don’t know what the hell happened between the two of you, but God, Lena she hasn’t been the same since. And I don’t really want to know what kind of bullshit the Black Mercy put you through, but I think both of you could really use their best friend right now.”

Alex sits at the side of her bed, putting a hand atop hers for a moment.

“Just think about it, while you rest,” Alex tells her, squeezes her hand and gets up again.

“You can’t just tell me those kinds of things and expect me to rest,” Lena retorts, making Alex turn her head back to her.

She’s glad that Alex doesn’t seem to pick sides. When the break-up happened she was expecting the DEO Director to turn up at her front step with a taser and point canons for breaking her sister’s heart. But Lena was surprised when Kelly turned up instead, telling her that Alex is with Kara, so she’s getting Kelly for the night.

The couple didn’t get anything from Kara or Lena that night, despite their various attempts at coaxing the truth out. The night was sobbed away or in Lena’s case, drank the night away; chugged enough wine that Kelly had forcefully pried the bottle from her hands.

“Look, Lena, The two of you are really overdue for a talk.”

Alex's words bring her back to reality. She pulls a tablet out and Lena’s work phone is retrieved from her pocket.

“So, talk,” Alex enunciates as she hands over the devices.

“Because I am locking you here. No going to L-Corp, no trying to escape with Jess and no overworking till midnight. You get to call your assistant, tell her what happened and then you rest. That’s an order, got it?”

“Got it,” Lena grits out rolling her eyes, hiding the fact that she’s beyond warmed by the gesture. Alex merely shakes her head at her before stepping out. The door slides close behind her and Lena is finally left alone with her thoughts.

Alex has a point. Alex has a great point, her mind screams.

But...not ready, is an understatement. She is not ready to talk to Kara about the break-up, much less about why her Black Mercy induced dream is an overtly domestic version of their love story.

She decides to file it under ‘Things For Later’ which is probably a bad idea. Her therapist would most likely tell her that. Then again, she doesn’t really think she’d be seeing her therapist any time soon.

How does one unpack a whole alien parasite attack on your psyche in one session, anyway?

***

Alex finds her stood before ruined slabs of concrete.

“Any updates?”

“We’re skip-tracing all employees from L-Corp between the graveyard shift and the morning shift.”

“Good, I have a feeling it was an inside job.”

Alex lets out an audible sigh.

“Something you wanna say?” She says as cement crumbles under her fists and dust particles rain over her red boots.

“Talk to her. “

Kara snorts.

“You say that as if I haven’t tried talking.”

Alex puts a hand on her shoulder stopping her from launching another punch.

“Really talk to her this time,” her sister stresses the words in that classic Alex Danvers’ ‘I’m-serious-so-you-better-fucking-listen’ way.

She lets the words sit in the forefront of her mind, shoulders dropping, fists and arms following suit.

“We were married,” She whispers and it takes two seconds for it to register to Alex before she steps closer, an ‘Oh, Kara.’ slipping past her lips.

“We were married and happy. So happy. It felt so real, Alex, it felt so re—”

Sobs choke her and Alex closes the gap and she lets herself be tugged in a tight, tight hug. Alex rubs comforting circles on her back as Kara’s chest heaves and tears pour.

The thing about it was, she didn’t even spend more than one minute in that fantasy world, yet her brain acts as if she’s lived that life. As if she didn’t drop smack right in the middle of a stranger’s bedroom and the first thing she saw was a doppelganger of herself and her ex. In bed. Together.

It was as if everything came to her in one terrifying moment of clarity. Boots in the corner. Cape haphazardly slung. Lena’s work laptop. Chew toys for dogs. Scattered Science books, then—

Golden rings, on a finger, in a chain.

Mating bands around wrists.

Wedding portrait. Weddin—

It all hits her at once faster than a whiplash and harder than a superpowered punch; knocking the wind out of her lungs, until she realizes she was gasping.

“Lena, we have to go, please. Please believe me, this isnt-”

“Real. I know-”

“What’s your surname?”

“Luthor.”

Just like you promised. Promised. Promised.

Always.

Alex squeezes tighter and Kara is pulled back from the depths.

Her sister lets her go and steps back a bit to cup her face in her hands; snotty nose, sniffles and all.

“Hey, look at me. That wasn’t real. And I know how bad you want it to be real. But Kara, nothing will happen if the both of you keep pulling away from each other. Someone needs to take the plunge.”

“She doesn’t want me, Alex. She ended things.”

Alex takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, shakes her head and then lets it all out in one go.

“Kara. I don’t really wanna say this to your face while you’re sobbing over me. But,” Alex lets out an exasperated sigh with a shake of her head and then lets out, “Good fuck, that is the most stupid thing to come out of your mouth. I don’t know how to stress this enough but...her IDEAL world is the two of you playing house. What more do you need? She wants you.”

“But she-”

Alex holds a finger up to stop her from talking.

“Nope. No. Listen to me, you are being an idiot. Well, Lena is too. But we’re talking about you right now, so… again, you are being an idiot. Just— Talk to her, Kara. How many times do I have to say that?”

Kara goes from sobbing to shocked to skeptical in the few seconds that Alex was speaking.

“I- I don’t know, Alex.”

“Kara, she wants you. She’s just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“You won’t find out if you don’t talk to her.”

Well, that was a great response.

Alex is hoping that it’s great enough of a response to convince her sister.

***

There’s a blue lump on the side of her bed.

A blue lump with blonde hair?

Lena rubs the sleepiness off and slowly sits.

Kara, it was Kara.

Kara was asleep, back hunched, head pillowed on folded arms on the side of her bed.

Lena immediately realizes the uncomfortable position she is in, not to mention the cape that is now roughly bundled at the back of the plastic chair.

She carefully lays a hand on Kara’s shoulder and shakes her softly.

“Hey, Kara, wake up, hey,” Lena mutters quietly.

“Wha- Lena?” Kara startles awake and shoots up from her position.

“I- you looked like you were gonna have a back ache so I-uh,” Lena was grasping for words in that usual way she does when Kara’s around.

“Here.” She pats the space next to her, “Come on, sit here, climb in. We uh- you’re right, we should talk, might as well do it while we’re both comfy, right?”

She attempts at lighthearted conversation, she already knows the next few minutes are going to be the most emotionally draining moments of her— their life.

Kara hesitates a bit, before nodding and wordlessly hoisting herself on the bed.

“So, do uh- do you wanna start or should I?”

Again, she was grasping for words.

“Go ahead,” Kara says barely above a whisper, Lena was kind of hoping Kara would go first but well, here goes nothing.

“Thank you for coming to get me, I wasn’t expecting you to come,” Lena confesses, she really was surprised when Kara—the real Kara— showed up to rescue her.

“I’ll always save you, you know that,” Kara butts in, as if what Lena had said was the most ridiculous thing ever. She guesses it is, to Kara’s ears. She did promise always after all.

“Yeah, I know I just— for a moment there I just thought...well, never mind what I thought honestly-”

“You thought what? That I don’t care about you anymore? That I won’t fly off the moment I sensed you were in danger?”

Well, she’s on fire today.

“It’s not like that, you know that,” Lena protests but Kara interrupts again.

“It is like that. You thought just because we’re over I don’t give a shit about you anymore. You of all people, know I can’t—” Kara cuts herself off as if in pain, “I’ll always save you, Lena. Together or not. I care about you,” Kara utters, turning her head to meet Lena’s eyes before facing in front again.

Lena feels like care is a placeholder for something both of them aren’t capable of saying at present.

She doesn’t dwell on it too much because Kara is saying something again.

“I think…” She begins with a voice full of an emotion Lena can’t name [read: don’t want to name.]

“I care about you a little too much and that...”

Lena holds in a breath.

“And that scares you doesn’t it?” Kara finishes and she looks at her again but this time around Lena’s cheeks are wet.

Kara puts a hand atop hers and squeezes and the gesture pulls words from Lena’s throat.

“You wanted everything so fast, Kara,” she whispers, not really trusting to increase the volume of her voice lest it shakes.

“You were telling me all these grand plans of settling down and staying together and I was still having a hard time telling you ‘I love you’ and-” her voice breaks, “And even though, you kept saying it was okay, that you were just thinking out loud, I saw how hurt you were whenever I hesitated.”

Lena’s mind briefly flashes to all those nights spent with Kara, beside her and just feeling this massive fucking pressure of living up to what Kara wants. Shy I love you’s and fear, just so much fucking fear...and insecurities screaming at her that she isn’t what’s good for Kara.

“I- I couldn’t give you what you wanted and I just kept thinking was it me you really wanted? Or was it this domestic bliss that you’ve conjured in your head? Something you can have with somebody else. And it just kept spiraling from there. Thinking somebody better can give you what you want, somebody who’s not tainted, somebody who you can be proud of, somebody who won’t feel so fucking scared of saying ‘I love you’.”

She was aware she was one breath away from sobbing and when Kara moved closer and softly said, “Oh Lena,”

The dam burst.

“Oh, baby, come here, I’m sorry. Rao, I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t know I made you feel that way, I’m sorry,” Kara murmurs to her as she cups Lena’s cheek and uses her thumb to wipe tears.

Lena’s eyes were so green at the moment and Kara has to remind herself that they still have a long way to go for tonight.

“Look at me, I’m sorry I didn’t know, I’m sorry you felt pressured but Lena, there is nobody else I want. You are the one I want, hell I’m pretty sure every me out there in the multiverse is looking for their own Lena right now. You are the best I could ever have.”

The words hit Lena and it just makes her sob harder. Kara fully turns her body to the side to gather Lena in her arms and lets her sob into her neck.

“I- I left because I thought I couldn’t be enough, I didn’t want to. But everything was happening so fast and you wanted so many things and I couldn’t give it to you and I felt like such a fucking failure,” Lena sobs out, words slightly muffled with how hard Kara is pressing into her.

“Lena you are not a failure oh, come here. Listen to me, you’re not a failure, you’re not supposed to build your world around me okay? You do it for yourself. You are brilliant. You are not a failure and I am so so sorry that I made you feel that way.”

Kara rubs circles on her back and squeezes around her every so often. It feels like forever that they stayed that way. Kara whispering, “Shh, breathe, breathe with me,” and Lena sniffling into Kara and Kara just wrapping all around her and calming her. When Lena’s sobs start to subside and she feels confident enough in her ability to speak she slowly breaks away from Kara.

“I’ve been going to therapy,” she begins, “It helped...a lot. Helped clear out a lot of things f-for me. And I think,” She pauses, “Kara, I- I also think you need it more than I do.”

At that Kara’s face scrunches up in confusion.

“How so?”

“Remember when I told you you wanted so much so fast?”

Kara gives her a nod.

“I think you were trying to run, darling.”

She knew she should be focusing on what Lena was trying to tell her but she can’t help the little flutter of her heart at the pet name.

“Run? Run from what?”

“Kara,” Lena starts, unsure about how she should really go about all this.

“You went through hell and back trying to fix the universe, you watched another home of yours get erased from existence. And not to mention that before and during all of that, the two of us were fighting. And then to make things worse at the end of it all, you get ejected into a universe you barely know with my brother as its savior.”

Lena lays out all the facts methodically, slowly, carefully but just blunt enough to make Kara realize that all that trauma should not just be brushed aside.

“You went through a lot.”

A lot, doesn’t even begin to describe the enormity of everything the both of them went through. But Lena supposes they can unpack that another time. There’s a pause and Lena watches Kara take a breath.

“Kara, I think you jumped into a relationship with me because it made you feel good. It made you forget about all the recent hardships you just went through. And I guess maybe I did too, you know? We both just wanted to feel some crumb of peace, but God, did we go about it the wrong way.”

Lena watches her words sink in, how Kara stops, blinks slowly only to take a sudden breath as tears slowly track down her face.

“I- No. I didn’t. No, you’re wro- Lena, I-” Kara fails to tie together a sentence as tears start to fall down. It’s easy when everything else is in your head, when you can replay memories and cover them in filters made by your own brain, but when someone else puts it on the screen for you? That’s a different matter altogether. Nobody had shown Kara the severity of her trauma before and now it’s taking its toll.

“Oh, Kara. Come here, come here,” Lena coos, this time it was her pulling Kara in. Kara melts into her and Lena feels the telltale signs of heavy sobs come through.

“I don’t know- I-”

“Shh, it’s okay, Kara, it’s okay.”

She lets Kara fall apart in front of her. She knows those tears are oceans of their own, those drops carry the memory of a fallen planet, an entire culture, stories, people, loved ones. Every drop is a person Supergirl had failed to save, another universe, another home. Every drop is every lie she ever told Lena and all of the pain there was when she was gone.

“I’m sorry, Lena, I’m sorry.”

She can’t beg forgiveness from an extinct race or a wiped out universe but Lena? She could still have Lena.

***

Alex finds them curled tightly together in the Med Bay come morning. She kind of wants to cry in relief at the sight.

Finally, fucking finally.

She doesn’t have the heart to bother them so she grabs them an extra blanket and tucks both in, exiting with a small smile to her lips.

***

They both wake up to the sound of laughter, the perpetrators— a couple of low-rank agents— stop in the tracks at the sight of a disheveled Supergirl, scowling madly at them with one Lena Luthor tucked in her arms.

“Uh- sorry, we’ll just uh-”

The agents bolt out of the room immediately, letting Kara slump back into the pillow.

“Hi,” Lena croaks out with a rough voice, eyes puffy from last night.

Snippets from last night immediately flashing in Kara’s brain.

Kara holding Lena.

Lena holding Kara

Teary apologies

Catching-up on each other.

Talking till yawns interrupted their words.

Kissing.

More kissing.

More kiss-

You get the picture.

“Good morning,” Kara replies with a shy smile.

“Is scaring agents one of Supergirl’s many talents?” Lena teases, as Kara scoffs fully turning unto her side to face Lena, hand casually brushing a stray strand of her on Lena’s face

“Serves them right for just walking in-” Kara stops mid-sentence, fingers freezing and her eyes turn hesitant, “Sorry, is this okay?”

Because even though last night had happened even though they’ve talked until words could no longer name the depth of their feelings and they turned to silence instead, Kara is still unsure. Hesitant. Wary of giving too much too soon or asking for too much too soon.

But the most difficult part is over and they both realize this as the sun from outside filter through the many wide windows of the DEO, as Lena’s next words ring about in the warmth of the morning.

“Kara, it’s okay,” Lena answers her, catching Kara’s frozen hand and leaning into the touch, pressing closer to Kara’s face, noses touching, lips a breath apart.

“In fact, it’s very much okay.”

The first tell was the lack of a body next to her. The second was the freezing cold. Her bed was almost never cold these days. She’s grown used to sharing her bed with a Kryptonian heater, and so, to wake up from a nightmare alone in bed was now an unusual occurrence. Unusual nough to make her panic.

She sits up, disoriented from her nightmare. Lena groggily registers a low melodic humming crackling from the baby monitor on her nightstand.

“Kara,” she whispers into the quiet of the room, “Please come back to me.”

The humming from the monitor begins to sound distant as it gets louder to Lena’s ears; drifting nearer and nearer to the bedroom.

The door opens and Kara strolls in, messy bun, sleepy voice and all. In her arms a squirming, kicking, sniffling, very much awake bundle fits.

“She doesn’t want to sleep, I tried everythi-” Kara whines and then stops as she takes in Lena’s racing heartbeat, shaking lips and shining eyes.

“Oh no, did you have a nightmare? I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s okay, Kara. Just— Come here? Please?”

Kara shuffles quickly towards the bed; Lena lifts the comforter, making room, the bed dipping as her wife climbs in.

“You okay?” she asks, once she’s settled down next to Lena. She continues rocking her arms as an attempt to get their daughter to sleep for the nth time tonight. Her wife doesn’t still doesn’t answer her, although she doesn’t miss how Lena slightly calms at her presence.

“Lena, hey, you with me?”

“Kara?”

“I’m here, I’m here.”

“Thi- this is real, right?”

Because sometimes, there are nights where dreams feel all too real and pain comes rearing at you as if it all happened yesterday. Because after all these years, Lena still carries fear inside of her; fear that none of this is real, fhat Kara doesn’t really love her, that she’ll never be good enough, that she’ll be abandoned again. Fear that all of this is just a figment of her imagination.

“Oh, Lena. Come here, I’m going to pass her unto you alright?”

Lena’s eyes snap up to hers for a minute in hesitation but she finds herself slowly nodding. Kara wouldn’t give their daughter over if she isn’t sure Lena could handle it. She slowly transfers their child to Lena’s arms.

“Do you feel her warmth?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Do you feel her weight?”

“She’s real, Lena. I’m real,” Kara says as she wraps her arms around them, cradling her wife and child close.

“She’s getting heavy.”

“Yeah, yeah that she is. This is real, Lena.”

“Here,” she gently puts a pillow beneath Lena’s arms for support as she slowly grabs one hand and puts it right over her heart.

“Feel this? Can you feel it?”

Lena does, Lena can and she nods and it’s real and Kara’s heartbeats are steady under her palm; each beat an echo of Lena’s name. She’s certain of that, because she’s pretty sure her heartbeats are all echoes of Kara’s name again and again and again.

“This is real.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

#woooooh i made a follow up!!!#its still sunday in some parts of the world right?#so happy supercorp sunday y'all!#the reckless writer writes #a supercorp black mercy au #supercorp fic #supercorp #rcklss writes

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bethanysnow · 3 years

Text

“I didn’t give it” (A fic for @maneskinbrainrot )

Måneskin was invited to perform for New York Fashion week with Gucci. Paraded around by the luxury brand was not a exactly- fun - thing for them to experience, but it paid the bills. Their manager knew this about them, so it wasn’t a big surprise for her to get a text message from Thomas saying they were ‘escaping’ and would be back by dinner. They were in New York City after all! Play tourist for a while in a country they felt a little more safe not to be spotted in. Especially on fashion week where all the art hoes came out of the woodwork. A couple Italians were nothin! With some rudimentary googling Vic found a cafe and a thrift store to barricade themselves in for the next hour or so. The streets of New York were messy and smelled funny, but were alive. The ground hadn’t been smoothed flat with a millennia of people. The brick buildings rose into the sky and the skyscrapers tore holes into heaven.

People around them didn’t give them the time of day. No one was shouting their name. No one knew who they were, and if they did no one gave a flying fuck by the looks of it. It really was heaven. They loved their job of course, music was their life. But fame was bitter, grainy and left something stuck in their teeth. Here it was like they were nobodies. Not that they minded of course. Vic led the way to the thrift store she had found online, under a block of apartments was the glass window front. A green awning with golden letters of the store. The neon open sign was lit up so the band walked in. A brown countertop near the front of the store was personless. Racks on racks of clothes covered the floor. 50s-60s ball gowns hung from the ceiling beams. The air was musty just in the way vintage thrift stores tended to be. History on all sides by the articles people have worn. Rock music left the speakers pinned to the walls, playing Arctic Monkeys, Queen, and others.

The band split up to look for a clerk of some kind. A store wouldn’t just be open by itself- right?

Damiano went down a long aisle of what looked to be 70s memorabilia by the avocado green and bright yellow clothes. A neon red glow caught his attention. Making his way to the back of the store the glow came from a neon sign bent to look like a naked lady. Strategically placed ribbon over certain areas. A paper taped to a hanger with ‘XXX Lingerie section’ printed on it piqued his interest. Even more so when he looked in to find a beautiful woman laying on the red shag carpet cuddling up to a nighty asleep.

“‘Scusa- Miss? Are you- do you work here?” Damiano asked quietly. Her eyes shot open and looked at where the voice came from. She held a hand to her heart, taking a breath.

“Sorry! No uh, my best friend works here. I am just visiting, but I can help I guess. Whatsup?” She said getting up. Brushing off imaginary dirt from her hands as she reached her full height. She was shorter than him, her hair was slightly a mess from an interrupted nap. She’s cute. Damiano was lost in admiring her beauty until he blinked and she was waving her hand in front of his face, unaware that he was staring.

“Earth to dude, you ok?” She chuckled though still slightly concerned for his wellbeing.

“Sorry- I'm Damiano, I’m here with friends of mine and we were checking things out. What was your name? I didn't catch it.”

“Cuz I didn’t give it.” She winked and Damiano’s blood pressure went higher. Attractive and a flirt too??? Fuck!

He grinned at her as she was about to put the nighty she was using as a pillow up back on the rack. Damiano took his shot.

“You know, it might look good on me. What do you think?” Holding it up against his body, the white silk ending just above the waistline of his pants. Leaning on the clothing rack he tilted his head to catch her eyes looking at the garment. “Look better on you though-” Whispering as her face froze and flushed a bright red. Quickly grabbing it and putting it back where it belonged she cleared her throat.

“No- uh I don’t wear that kinda stuff. But on you sure. You looking for anything specific?”

“Besides your number? ...I was looking for some shirts honestly” She nodded and pointedly ignored his previous comment.

The rest of the band were busy debating on a pair of corduroy pants Ethan was wearing as Damiano showed up with another person in tow. Introductions were made of who they all were and the woman offered some suggestions to the debate going on. But Damiano couldn’t help himself.

“So Bellissima we have a gig going on later tomorrow if you want to join. Be our plus one as it were-” Vic raised a brow at that. Asking some random girl to go with them to something was one thing, but to ask a random girl to a gig at fashion week was another. And to top it off, a runway of one of the most well known luxury brands in the world. Her concerns were met with their singer giving her a look that meant he knew what he was doing. Or at least he thought he did.

To Damiano's surprise the woman in front of him shrugged, looked at her phone checking something and said sure. SHE SAID SURE! That was enough for him. Soon the whirlwind of the band and their new found friend were busy trying on clothes and dancing through the store. Thomas' foot got stuck in a platform boot as another person walked into the enclave that they had made that afternoon. The woman that they had met earlier smiled and introduced them as her best friend- I.E the one who actually worked at the store. Explaining what had gone on and the fun chaos that had happened since.

The day started to wind down and the band had all gotten texts from their manager telling them to come back to the hotel. Picking out their favorite pieces, it all was thrown onto the counter. The woman placed everything in bags, handing it to them once finished.

As Damiano was to leave the woman he had met stopped him.

“You forgot something-”

“I did?” Checking for his phone or wallet or whatever he could have misplaced.

“Yea here- hold on” She ripped out some paper from behind the counter and wrote on it slipping it into his front pocket. With a wink they left. Getting back to the hotel he pulled it out finally after it was burning a hole in his brain.

it read-

‘###-###-#### y/n <3 P.S. Nice music btw. L’altra dimensione slaps.’

#Maneskin #måneskin #måneskin imagine #damiano david x reader #damiano david x y/n #I LOVE YOU WIFE #nyc #gucci

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 3 years

Text

Smile, Draco II Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested by: @venuswrites - I hope you like it! <3

Summary: You are destined to show Draco a little bit of happiness in the midst of a troubling 6th year at Hogwarts. (fluff/angst)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader Words: 1.3k Warnings: none

Ducks

Draco opens his book and a little piece of parchment falls out of it. It lands in his lap and he grabs it, intending on throwing it away, when something catches his attention. Black lines moving across the parchment. He frowns and unfolds it. A single “huh” escapes him.

Ducks.

Two drawn ducks that someone enchanted so that they’re now waddling across it. One of them carries a little basket in his mouth, filled with cheese and a bottle of wine. The other one reaches a corner and starts picking at the edge of the paper as if it is trying to escape its two-dimensional prison.

Draco stares at it for a few seconds. He doesn’t understand how it got between the pages of his potions book. Did someone put it there or is it just a long forgotten doodle from the years before?

He looks up. Draco sits in the last row of the classroom, alone at a table for four. The same seat he has chosen since the beginning of his sixth school year. His classmates all seem to be focused on the words of Professor Slughorn, their eyes fixated on whatever words appear on the blackboard. Movements in the corner of his eyes causes him to turn his head.

There’s no one.

Well, no one except for you. He doesn’t know who you are. Six years of sharing classes and yet he still never bothered to learn your name. He has seen you around, obviously, and he vaguely remembers Blaise talking about you at some point. But when he tries to remember your name, his mind goes blank.

You are opening a new inkpot and your eyes quickly glance over to him, when you notice his stare. They drop to the piece of parchment in his hands and then back to the inkpot.

Draco shakes his head. Coincidence.

He looks at the ducks another time. One of them had put down the basket and now sits on a little picnic blanket. It watches the other duck who still picks at the corner of the parchment. The corners of Draco’s mouth twitch and he decides against throwing the drawing away.

Chocolates

Eight days later, Draco finds a box of chocolates with his name on it. It rests in front of his dorm room. He picks it up suspiciously and opens it. Twelve pieces of chocolate sit inside the dark green box. They smell heavenly and the sight makes his mouth water.

“Look at that, Theo!” Draco flinches at Blaise’s loud voice. “Draco has a secret admirer.”

“Oooh, who’s it from?”, Theo asks. The two boys appear behind Draco. When Theo reaches for the box, Draco closes it quickly.

Blaise rolls his eyes. “What do you think does the word ‘secret’ entail, idiot?” They disappear inside the dorm. Draco doesn’t join their conversation. By now, they don’t expect him to anymore.

He puts the chocolates in his bag and wonders who sent it to him. The drawing comes to his mind and he can’t shake the eerie feeling that the two instances are somehow connected. When he reaches the Room of Requirements, however, his thoughts darken again. Inside, the vanishing cabinet waits for him and he grits his teeth.

Draco eats the first piece of chocolate when he opens the doors to the cabinets and finds a dead bird.

Frogs

Draco used to love the weekends in Hogsmeade. Drinking Butterbeers at ‘The Three Broomsticks’, buying way too many sweets at ‘Honeydukes’, judging the people shopping at ‘Gladrags Wizardwear’ together with his friends - those weekends were the highlight of his years in schools.

They aren’t anymore.

His friends left without this morning and Draco doesn’t blame them. It was him who commented on Pansy’s supposed clinginess after she asked him if he wanted to come. Insulting her is a guaranteed way to get the whole friend group off his back. It hurt. It hurt watching them leave but it’s better this way. Easier.

Especially today.

Draco walks out of the ‘The Three Broomsticks’ when you bump into him. He reaches for your arms instinctively and holds you up so you don’t slip on the icy ground. You thank him and smile at him. Draco doesn’t reply. He lets go of you, buries his hands in his pockets and is about to turn around when he suddenly notices something. A small piece of paper, crumpled in his left pocket. Draco pulls it out, a confused look on his face, and opens it.

Another drawing. This time, it’s three tiny frogs that stare up at him. One of them makes a ‘ribbit’-sound when he smoothes over the paper. It wasn’t there before.

A second passes and it finally clicks.

You.

Draco’s eyes widen and he looks up, searching for you. You are already a few steps ahead.

“Hey!”, Draco calls out.

You stop and turn around. You wear a black coat and your scarf is wrapped around your tightly, glowing brightly in your house colors against the snowy landscape. There’s a smile on your lips. It irritates him.

“Did you …?” Draco holds up the drawing. You open your mouth as if you want to say something and then close it again. He sees a hint of embarrassment in your eyes. He caught you red-handed. “The drawing with the duck, it was you?,” he asks. “And the chocolates?”

You nod.

“Why?”

“You’re sad.” You give a half-shrug. You say it as if drawing little animals for strangers is the most normal thing in the world. “I don’t like it when people are sad.”

Draco frowns. “You don’t know me.”

“So?”, you ask.

Draco doesn’t have an answer.

“Did they cheer you up?”

He looks down at the drawing again and it happens again - the corners of his mouth twitch. He hears you chuckle.

“I’m glad,” you say. “Have a nice day, Draco.”

He doesn’t remember the time someone called him by his first name in Hogwarts who doesn’t belong to his immediate friend group. “Wait!”, Draco calls out again when you want to turn around again.

“Yes?” You tilt your head.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

Beautiful, Draco thinks when he hears it. How could he not have noticed you before? A sudden idea pops in his head and he starts speaking before he can think about it: “Do you maybe want to …”

He trails off when the bell of the door chimes again and Katie walks out, in her hands a black box. Draco feels the dark magic oozing over to him. She doesn’t notice him but he can’t stop staring at her.

“Do I maybe want to …?”

He snaps out of it when he hears your voice, and clears his throat. “Have a drink with me? It’s cold.”

“You don’t have to feel obligated-” You raise your hands.

“I’m not one who does things out of obligation,” Draco interrupts you.

You hesitate and for a second, Draco is convinced you’ll say no. When the next word leaves your lips, relief washes over him. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats. You come towards him and he opens the door for you. When you walk past him, the whiff of your shampoo reaches his nose and Draco is convinced he’d never smelled something more calming.

“Are you friends with Looney Lovegood?”, Draco asks when the two of you sit down. You reminded her of him.

“Pansy’s girlfriend?” You shake your head. “No, but I wish. She seems cool.” You smile again, a soft, much more shy smile, and for the first time in months, he returns it.

***

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#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #astrids fics

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potatoes-is-are-food · 3 years

Note

Not the same anon but I would really like those demonic poly Shigadabi headcanons maybe some poly shigadabikei headcanons if your okay with it but it’s fine if you don’t want to spoil the series in anyway. I love their relationship, it’s the cutest despite being weird. Love you and don’t overwork yourself with writing and work😘

So I wanted to include Kei but also not give too much away about what’s coming up so here’s some mostly shigadabi demon hcs but with a little bit of keigo in there too and keep in mind these take place later into the story after they’ve had little sacrifice for a while so things are more established.

This is somewhat short but any other questions about this fic are welcome!

SFW(slight mentions of nsfw)

- Tomura still very much enjoys occasionally freaking you out, telling you creepy/gross things that demons are known to do like actually eating their sacrifices.

- Dabi tries to make him stop but there’s plenty of times you’re alone with Tomura and there’s really not much he can do aside from console you and let you know sometimes the weird shit he says isn’t even true.

- That doesn’t mean he doesn’t also pick on you for being too trusting, often luring you into thinking he’s going to do something soft only to see how you react when he ravishes you when you’re off guard.

- Keigo is just as bad, possibly even worse although much more lighthearted with his teasing. He won’t tell you about how he cannibalized another demon once (too long of a story anyway) but he will poke fun of you for anything mundane that can get you flustered. Very prone to pinching soft places on your body that get you riled up and squirming.

- Dabi occasionally likes to take you out for a date to the human world for some one-on-one time. It’s really sweet and he usually lets you pick what activity to do since he’s really only there to be selfish and have you alone for a little while.

- Keigo takes you out a lot, he loves the human world and thinks it’s fun to “play boyfriend” especially if it means you’ll let him rail you in a love hotel while you’re out.

- Dabi is closer to Tomura and Kei than they are to each other but that doesn’t mean you don’t occasionally happen across the two of them playing videogames together all snuggled up on the couch.

- The pocket you stay in becomes their permanent residence so any time they’re not on a contract they’re home. You’re not left alone often and when you are it’s not more than a few hours before a tired demon storms in and demands your attention again.

- Tomura has no filter and spills secrets about Dabi and Keigo constantly, pissing both of them off to no end when you come asking questions about why Keigo assumed he was supposed to eat his sacrifices or why the fuck did Dabi decide to put staples in his skin when that wasn’t part of his punishment.

- Since Dabi is nice and got you a nice pocket to live in it came with seasons, so you get to go play in the snow, the rain, sit out in nicer weather with a book if you want, etc. Also means your demons get to play with you outside when it’s not too hot or cold.

- They’re all very very fond of you but that doesn’t mean they’re not pricks a fair amount of the time. Watched a sad movie and now you’re crying? Oh get ready for condescending cooing “oh poor little sacrifice can’t handle a movie, what a baby come here and let me kiss your tears away” only to lick up your neck and face and laugh when you sniffle.

- There just is truly nothing they love more than picking on you to various extents, Dabi stops if you start to seem genuinely upset, Keigo stops when your eyes get glossy and you’ll let him “comfort” you, and Tomura likes to lick up your tears after he’s pushed too far and the way you cling to him anyway even though he caused your distress.

- Typically things are calm and at least two of them are around so you have a lap to sit in while you listen to them discuss contracts. Sometimes they let you ask questions but the answer is usually violent and therefore very censored.

- Demons don’t actually need to sleep but it does feel nice and since you enjoy it (read: get pounded to exhaustion regularly), they like to relax and have a nap beside you when you’re passed out from their rough treatment or dimensional travel.

- They’re mean and stuff a lot but their affection more than makes up for it. Constant sweet words, hand holding, soft kisses, checking up on your needs often and making sure you’re okay after they’re harsh or rough.

NSFW

- Tomura seriously just does not understand about 98% of human etiquette and has on SEVERAL occasions tried to grope/strip/hump/otherwise violate you in public in broad daylight in crowded areas. Dabi no longer lets him take you out alone.

- They’re all constantly groping you when you’re home. Hands up your skirt, around your neck, on your waist, etc.

- Don’t say you’re bored unless you want one of your demons to flip you onto your back and start prepping you to take their cock. Cause that’s what’ll happen.

- Their casual touches rile you up and they absolutely know and use that to their advantage, lightly trailing fingers all over your body at any given moment just waiting for you to snap and let them know what you want.

- If you come up on your own and sit on Keigo’s lap, straddling him and kiss any part of his face or neck he just melts. Finish what you start, though, or he’ll take what he wants after spanking you raw for being a tease.

- You will never be able to fit Tomura’s monster dick in your mouth but that won’t stop him from getting you to try every so often. Your jaw hurts and you strain but it just doesn’t fit so he usually settles for finishing in your mouth and watching you swallow it or make out with Dabi while it’s coating your mouth and throat.

- Dabi prefers to let you do what you want when you’re blowing him, often commenting that you suck at it but at least you look cute while he strokes your face and ruffles your hair. He usually just moves onto fucking you.

- Keigo, however, likes to fuck your face every single time and cum as far down your throat as possible. He’s sweet after, though and tells you you did a great job while he gives you some cool water to soothe the demolished back of your throat.

- For whatever reason they all seem to really like fucking you in front of each other, even when the others aren’t involved. You’ll just casually be getting bounced on Dabi’s lap while Tomura plays videogames beside you on the couch and it’s just a very normal occurrence.

- They’re all nice to ride for different reasons: Dabi praises and degrades you sweetly, lets you ride however you like while he strokes your soft skin until you cum and he flips you over to pound his own release into you. Tomura usually loses patience and starts bucking up into you just right to make you a drooling mess, clinging to him for dear life while he pinches at your clit to make you squeeze him while he floods your insides. Keigo likes to sit back and watch the show, forcing you to keep going no matter how many times you gush on top of him until he finishes, head thrown back and an absolutely gorgeous blush covering his cheeks as his eyes roll back in his head.

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talatomaz · 3 years

Text

crossing paths pt.i | diana prince x lance!reader

a/n: reader has the powers of telekinesis. since this was going to be really long, i decided to split it into two parts. also this may be slightly canon divergent since i’ve not watched flash in a long time.

warnings: mentions of fighting, death

word count: 1.9k

masterlist | request list | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii

reader is sara & laurel’s younger sister who works with team flash. after her and cisco’s experiment goes sideways, she finds herself trapped on an unknown earth not unlike her own

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“You’re absolutely sure this will work, Cisco?”

You asked, tying your hair up into a ponytail whilst the mechanical genius typed on his computer; the keys clacking under his fingertips.

“Yes. 100%. Well, more like 99%. Okay, if we’re being truly honest, then 93%.”

Cisco paused after each figure before turning his head to face you.

“Cisco-“

You started before the former interrupted, “Trust me, y/n. You’ll be fine. You just need to travel there, have a look around and then come straight back. We’ve done it so many times before.”

You and Cisco had been working on modifying the extrapolator your team often used to travel between different Earths. Or rather, you used to use them before the rebirth of the universe following Oliver’s sacrifice.

You cleared your throat at the thought of the vigilante. Having grown up with him and he having dated both of your older sisters meant that he was practically like your brother. And you were broken when you’d lost him so you’d left Team Arrow and came to work with Barry and his team instead.

Working with Team Flash was...different, to say the least. But having known them for several years, you got on well with them all, especially Cisco and Iris.

However, this project you were working on was only known to you and Cisco; the others blissfully unaware, mainly because the two of you knew that if you told them, they’d guilt you into stopping your experiment.

You were the one who had gone to Cisco with the idea in the first place.

After the Crisis, many of you had assumed that everyone solely remained on one Earth however you believed that the multiverse still existed, but that it’d be much harder to access. Cisco had agreed to help you but had explained that he wouldn’t come with you due to his relinquished powers.

So here you were, getting ready to try out the extrapolator in order to confirm or disprove your theory that the multiverse still existed.

“Technically, we haven’t, Cisco. New Earth remember?”

“That’s just semantics.”

“Cisco, if this doesn’t work, you better be ready to explain to my ex-assassin of a sister what happened to me.”

You laughed as his face dropped at the thought of that conversation.

He cleared his throat, “I’ve done all the necessary calculations and made a few needed modifications, including a GPS chip. It’ll work, y/n. Here, take your mask. Just in case.”

He added as an afterthought, handing you the sleek black mask he had designed to disguise your identity.

You put the mask in your jacket and took a deep breath, readying yourself. Holding the extrapolator, you pressed the small button and a familiar portal opened in front of you; variations of colours swirling around the breach.

You looked back at Cisco and feigned seriousness, “If I die, I’m going to kill you.”

His eyes widened making you smile, “Be safe, Cisco. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you then stepped into the inter-dimensional breach.

***

“Okay, hopefully this worked.”

The breach closed behind you as you stepped into an alley; the several dumpsters providing some form of protection from anyone who may have seen you.

Wherever you were, it was bright and sunny.

Pocketing the extrapolator, you stepped out of the alley and walked down the paved sidewalk, listening for any indications of where you were from passersby.

You continued walking until you came across a newsstand that looked fairly out of place in this seemingly technological environment.

You stopped, peering at the front cover of one of the magazines.

The words “DAILY PLANET” were printed on the top of the paper. You reached down and picked it up, flicking through the pages, pausing when you saw a familiar name on the byline.

Folding the paper back into its original state, you placed it back on the stand, flashing a kind but brief smile to the newsagent who looked at you with intrigue.

Although you didn’t know what Earth you were on, at least you knew you were in Metropolis.

A place you had visited several times since the rebirth of the universe.

A place that, despite whatever Earth, was always home to one Clark Kent, better known as Superman.

You pondered in your thoughts for a little while longer before deciding to venture out and explore the city, eager to find any similarities or differences between your Earth and this one.

You ended up in a museum.

You weren’t sure exactly how you’d gotten there, having followed wherever your feet had taken you but, nevertheless, you were here.

Whilst you were never a huge fan of museums, you’d often found yourself being dragged to them by Laurel when you were younger.

There was something about them that she’d loved.

She tried explaining it to you once.

How the beauty of art told a story or something.

You didn’t really pay much attention and who could have blamed you? You were only 10 years old. You’d rather be out playing or hanging out with your friends than spending your Saturday afternoon in a stuffy old museum.

But this place was anything but.

In truth, you knew that you sought solace in places like these during times of distress or uncertainty.

It gave you a chance to feel closer to your sister after the world had cruelly taken her away from you. Even on another Earth, you still found peace and felt her presence next to you.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging before tensing once more, feeling someone behind you.

You never used to be so on edge.

When you were younger, you lived such a care free life, never feeling any need to be concerned or cautious.

But that had changed quickly.

Soon you had been thrust into the vigilante life, more determined than ever to become like your sisters and help them fight crime.

In fact, you had learned to fight from a reluctant Sara.

After several arguments about the danger of her world, she’d come to accept that there was no changing your mind and had decided that if you were going to purposely put yourself in harm’s way, you needed to be prepared. She had put you through vigorous training which Oliver soon picked up with you after Sara had been recruited to form the Legends.

So, suffice it to say, you were well-versed in the forms of self-defence and were constantly on the lookout for any form of danger.

And being on a different Earth certainly warranted your caution.

“How are you liking our exhibit?”

A feminine voice said, her voice thick with an accent you couldn’t distinguish.

Turning with a smile, you spoke, “It’s beautiful. I never used to appreciate art but now I find myself lost in the works of Rembrandt or Claude Monet.”

“Ah yes. They were most excellent artists.”

You blinked, not at her words but at her face.

The woman who stood before you was, quite simply put, the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your life.

Realising you were staring, you cleared your throat, “Yes, I agree.”

You opened your mouth to say something else - what, you weren’t sure of - when you closed it again having spotted a man who’d just entered the room which held the small exhibit.

The figure wore a black cap, obstructing his face, his eyes darting around before landing on another male situated in one of the corners of the room. The latter gave him a brief nod which the other returned. Discreetly glancing at them, you noticed familiar bulges beneath their shirt, surely holding a gun.

“Okay, don’t be alarmed but I think this place is about to get robbed.” You said in a hushed whisper, faking interest in another piece of art beside you.

You noted the small but discernible flicker in the woman’s eyes, her name still unknown to you.

“How-“

“Let’s just say I’m perceptive. Do me a favour and take out your phone.”

You waited until the brunette had followed your instructions.

“Pretend to be talking to someone and walk out the room. They’re not going to do anything until you’re gone because they don’t want to run the risk of you warning someone.”

She nodded at your words and proceeded to carry out your plan.

You fought the look of surprise and confusion that surely would’ve shown on your face at the lack of fear on hers. Instead, her eyes seemed to hold a look of determination.

Determined to do what, you weren’t sure of.

Once she had left, your suspicions were confirmed when the two men simultaneously took out their guns and shouted.

“Everybody down on the ground. Now!”

Screams and shouts were let out by the small group of citizens in the room, replacing the quiet bustle of hushed whispers that had previously filled the air.

As everyone immediately fell to the ground, you slid down the wall until you were in an upright position.

You watched as they removed several of the smaller pieces of art, carefully placing them in a duffel bag. You waited until they grew closer to you before standing up causing both of their guns to be aimed at you.

“Sit back down or you’ll get a bullet in your pretty little head.”

They both moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from the view of the security cameras and the people behind them. Using your powers, you pulled the guns toward you and flung them to the far side of the room.

You took advantage of their momentary confusion and kicked both of them. One of them grabbed you from behind, his tight grip trapping your arms. You raised your legs and caged the other’s neck between them.

Twisting your legs, you threw him to the ground and then drew yourself closer into your captor’s arms, lifting off the ground for a brief second before throwing him over your shoulders and onto the ground beside the other intruder.

“Run!”

You yelled to the handful of citizens who watched you with a mixture of awe and fear.

Then you felt yourself being pushed against the marble ground as one of the men jumped on top of you, his weight crushing your small figure.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch.” He snarled against your ear.

You threw your head back, smirking when you heard the grunt of pain and several curses falling from the man’s lips.

You raised your hands and with it, the other man floated in the air. With a wave of your wrist, he went crashing into his friend and they slumped into a corner.

You quickly picked yourself up and ran out of the museum’s back exit, knowing you had to avoid the police at all costs.

Reaching an abandoned alley, similar to the one you first arrived in, you took out the inter-dimensional extrapolator, deciding it was way too dangerous for you to remain here any longer.

Pressing the device, you expected to see a breach form but to your shock, there was none. Inspecting the device, you saw that it had been broken, more than likely from when you’d been thrown against the ground by the robbers.

You muttered a foul curse before calming yourself.

Think, y/n. Think.

Your ears perked up at the familiar whistle and rattle of train tracks.

Okay, you knew what to do next.

You needed to go home.

Part 2 ->

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Caffeine Rush: Chapter Two / Mocha

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier learns his fate. You take him out to that dinner you promised.

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language, mentions of food, tooth-rotting fluff. I mean it.

A/N: HI FRIENDS if you can’t already tell from my blog, I LOVE red velvet cake and this chapter is highly self indulgent. This fic is so near and dear to me because I really relate to the reader and put more of myself in her than I do others. I hope you guys enjoy!!!

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist

Mocha: espresso, steamed milk, and chocolate. Beloved for the sweet taste.

To his surprise, Javier didn’t get fired. In fact, they didn’t even mention Los Pepes. He walked in there, sweating bullets and filled with anxiety and caffeine, only to learn that they weren’t the review board. They were operations, and asked Javier what he knew about the Calí cartel. Afraid it was a trap, he didn’t answer, until the man across from him cracked a smile and told him about his new assignment.

“Your work with Escobar and the Medellín cartel was unconventional, but we needed it. If you’ll accept our offer, we’d like to assign you to Calí to head the investigation into their cartel.”

Javier’s brain froze in shock. He was wordless, staring blankly ahead and furrowing his brow. After a few moments, he mustered out all that he could. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, Agent Peña. With the assignment would additionally come a raise in pay and rank, as well as-”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it.”

“We haven’t finished the offer-”

“I’ll take it, sir. Thank you,” he said, nodding.

“Well… take this,” he said, making Javier stand from the chair across from the room and take the file from his hands. “This is the information you’ll need, including your new pay and details. We are asking that you take at least some of your banked vacation time. You have several months of it, Peña. Our code requires that-”

Javier’s fully aware of this policy. Use it or lose it. Unfortunately, he’d never had much time or want for vacation while chasing Escobar. What would he do? “Yeah, give me a month off,” he said mindlessly as he opened the file and scanned over the front page, in utter disbelief. He registered his surroundings after a second and looked up. “You won’t regret it, sir. Thank you,” he says and shakes the man’s hand before leaving the room.

Now, Javier stands at a payphone outside of the embassy, dialing your number in his pocket. When you pick up and ask who’s there, he laughs happily. “They didn’t fire me!”

“Congratulations,” you laugh as you realize it must be Javier. “What all happened?”

“I actually got promoted,” he admits, the adrenaline and caffeine rushing through his bloodstream. “It was absolutely crazy. They didn’t even mention Los Pepes or anything, just-”

“Are you ready for me to pick you up now?” You ask, cutting him off. “You can tell me the rest over some food. You need it. You didn’t eat that muffin I brought you.”

“What are you, my mother?” He asks dryly, but he’s too excited to be too annoyed. “No, I’ll head back to the hotel. Pick me up in 30 minutes?”

“Sounds great. Congratulations, Javier,” you tell him, grinning into the receiver.

“Call me Javi.”

“Okay… Javi,” you say, biting your lip to hold back from giggling. “I’ll see you then.”

There’s a click and the phone line goes dead. You start giggling happily, flopping back onto the couch. Javier makes his way to the hotel, smiling. He lights up a cigarette, sighing at the way the warmth of the lighter contrasts the cold and snowy air.

Holy fuck. You’re going on what could possibly be considered a date with a really hot guy and you need to get dressed, quick. You hurry around your tiny apartment, throwing on something nice-looking and messing with your hair. You spritz on some perfume, straighten yourself in the mirror, and rush out to the street.

Georgetown is beautiful in the snow, you smile to yourself, but you wince as you realize the snow might slow you down. Your car is a piece of shit, you have to admit, but you love it. Her name is Whitney, in honor of Whitney Houston, and you beg and plead with her to behave as you make your way to Javier’s hotel.

The radio plays some music quietly, and a handsome dark-haired man stands outside of the hotel, smoking a cigarette when you arrive. You flash your high-beams at him and he smiles as he puts out the cigarette and tosses it in the trash. “Hi,” you almost sing as he gets in the car. “Are you a hugger?”

“Am I a what?” He frowns and asks, looking at you.

“Do you like hugs?” You ask, as if it’s obvious.

“I… don’t really receive many. They’re nice, I guess,” he shrugs as he looks you up and down quickly. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he tells you.

Warmth collects in your chest at his words. “Well, thank you. And I ask because I wanted to give you a hug of congratulations. I’m a big hugger,” you shrug a little and tilt your head as you look at him. He looks nice, in a button-up and those tight jeans you saw him in earlier.

A car honks behind you and you jump, awkwardly waving behind you and taking off so the next car can drive up to the hotel. Javier chuckles a little. “Well… I do like hugs, I guess. No one has ever asked me that.”

You look at him briefly, with confusion in your eyes, before they find the road again. “What a sad, sad life,” you chuckle. “I suppose. Are you… like, recently single? Did you date when you were in Colombia?” You ask innocently.

Javier exhales in a light chuckle. “No, never really had a relationship. Lots of flings,” he admits, finding that to be the best word to describe his situation. “But no relationships.”

You nod along, eyes scanning the road as you drive to dinner. “I see.”

“How about you?” He asks, wanting to deflect the attention from himself. That seems to be a common theme with him, you’ve noticed. All the conversations center around you, no matter how hard you try to talk about him.

“Well, no. I haven’t really gone out much or done anything, really. I’m a bit of a homebody, but once I’m out I enjoy it. Problem is you can’t find a date from the couch.”

You reach the restaurant not much later, parking outside. You get out after chatting a little more, and Javi is taken by surprise when you wrap your arms around him in a big hug. “Uh, hi?” He laughs. He instinctively returns it, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed to his. He hasn’t had anything so tender in a long time.

“I told you, it’s a congratulatory hug!” You say with a grin as you squeeze him then break away. “I’m happy for you.”

He smiles down at you. “I… thank you. That was nice.”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from,” you tell him and lead him inside, opening the door and heading into the restaurant.

Javier is a fantastic conversationalist. He tells stories with his hands, vividly explaining stories from the chase for Escobar. He tells you of his partner, Steve, and his crazy methods; about Colonel Carillo, who he still thinks is one of the strongest men he’s ever met; of Stechner, who you already want to gut-punch if you ever meet.

You watch him and admire the way his eyes dart about when he’s telling a story, the way he draws maps on the table with his fingers that you have no hope of understanding.

The food is great but the company is better. Javier’s laugh is a beautiful sound, one rarely heard by others. He listens to you just as attentively, smiling as you talk about the coffee shop, about Georgetown, all of your life.

By the end of the night, it’s easy to declare that you really, really like Javier. You like the way his lips quirk up in a smile, his intelligence and humor. You don’t want the night to end, truly.

When the bill comes, he takes it before you can even try. “Hey, I told you I was paying as a congratulatory dinner,” you frown.

“That can be another dinner,” he says mindlessly as he signs the receipt. “I always pay on the first date.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” You beam at him, tilting your head, eyes twinkling.

He smiles as he looks up at you. “I was thinking it was. I have at least a month off work now, to be wherever I want and I have nothing to do. I’d like to properly take my time to get to know you,” he offers, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“It seems like nothing about you is proper, Javi,” you tease and sip your drink, quirking an eyebrow.

He mirrors you, sipping his drink too. “That’s fair. But we’re in the nation’s capital, I suppose we should be a little more…”

You look at him and try to fill in the blank, smiling. “Practical? Traditional?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know what I meant to say there.”

You chuckle a little. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I like the sound of that.”

After dinner, you give Javier a little tour of Georgetown through the windows of your crappy car. The snow from earlier in the day has collected, dusting the tops of window sills and awnings over shop entries. Despite the snow, the car thermometer reads that it’s somewhat warm for the time of year.

There’s one warm little place with glowing lights. Despite the hour of night, it’s clearly open. Javier asks what it is. “Oh, that’s a little bakery,” you comment. “My favorite place, honestly. Their red velvet cupcake is fantastic.”

“That sounds good. I like chocolate more, to be honest,” he comments.

You continue driving for a few seconds, rolling your eyes. “They have a good one there, but it’s so one-dimensional. It’s just chocolate with chocolate on top. Red velvet is the best because you have the cake and the tangy frosting, and-“

“Pull over?” Javier asks, and you look at him in confusion but pull into a parking spot obediently and quickly.

Your eyes are wide in confusion. “What?” You ask him, concerned that something is wrong with the car.

“I’m buying you dessert,” he chuckles and gets out.

Your heart falls then and there for him. If you haven’t already decided, now you know that there’s no turning back. You want Javier Peña with a passion. “Jesus Christ, you could’ve told me that,” you laugh and turn off the car, getting off and bounding behind him. His long legs have already made strides ahead of you, leaving you to catch up.

“You wouldn’t have stopped, would you?” He asks, the gentle snow leaving white flakes on his dark coat. He looks so pretty like this, the warm light from inside the bakery glowing against his dark hair.

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling. “No, maybe not.” He opens the door for you and you thank him and follow him in.

Javier walks to the counter and wastes no time. “Hi. I’ll take two red velvet cupcakes and two large coffees. How do you take yours?” He asks you as you join him at his side.

“From my café,” you tease him, before turning to the woman behind the counter with a polite smile and asking for two sugars and two creams. Javier asks for his black.

The two of you step back while she gets your order ready and you look at him, smiling a little. There are still soft white flakes in his wavy hair, which are slowly melting into water drops.

You don’t know it, but he’s looking at you just the same. He admires you, smiling a little, just enough the quirk up one side of his mouth. “Thanks for buying,” you tell him and step a little closer. He’s warm, you can feel it radiating off of him, and the shop’s blasting cool air throughout.

“Like I said,” he chuckles. “I always buy on the first date.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of your stray hair behind your ear. “Would you want to come up to my hotel room to eat the cupcakes?” He offers.

You shake your head. “I work early tomorrow morning, I shouldn’t.”

Normally, Javier would be disappointed. Normally, he’d want to fuck you on the first date, leave you screaming his name until you can’t help but come back for more. But to his surprise, he doesn’t mind. He has a whole month to be with you, a whole month to fall for the woman he’s already half-lovesick over. “Not a problem,” he nods and walks to the counter as the woman calls that your order is ready.

He hands you a large coffee, and you take a sip of the warm liquid, sighing. “There’s a little shelter out there,” you say, pointing to a bench with an awning above it to keep it clear from the snow. “Do you want to eat them out there?”

Javier half-smiles and nods. “That sounds good.”

It’s warm for the season, but there’s still a cool breeze. You hurry over and sit on the small bench, Javier sitting next to you. The sides of your thighs touch, and you’re both aware of it, the proximity this small bench forces you to squeeze into. Javier sets the box on his lap and opens it, revealing two red velvet cupcakes. “These look delicious.”

“They are,” you grin and pick one up, licking a bit of the frosting off the top and sighing in content with the taste. Javier watches you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the connotation. You look over at him with wide eyes, holding back a laugh. You both break down giggling at the action, your head falling against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to do that like... that, I swear,” you shake your head as you sit up straight again.

“You looked good doing it,” he teases you and bumps your shoulder as you unwrap the paper. “I’m going to save mine for later.”

You frown at him. “Come on. I have to be here when you try the best dessert of all time.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m too full. I’ll have it for breakfast tomorrow or something.”

“Javi,” you whine. “There’s no point of you getting two if we don’t eat them together. You have to eat it, come on.”

Javier looks over at your cupcake, which has one bite taken. “Let me take a little bite of yours then.”

An idea strikes and you nod. “Sure,” you say casually, holding it up for him to eat it. When he goes in to bite it, you move it closer to his face, causing the cupcake to smash into his chin and onto his nose.

Javier thinks he’s the one that missed. “Fuck,” he laughs as he crosses his eyes as he looks down at his nose, seeing the cupcake and frosting smeared on his face. He sees you giggling and laughs. “Hey, you didn’t… what the fuck?” He laughs, bringing his face close to yours. “That was uncalled for.”

“You were being a grump. I had to,” you giggle, your face naturally coming closer to his.

“And we don’t even have napkins,” he shakes his head and looks at you. “How can I clean this up?”

Tilting your head, your eyes dart between his, smiling at the dark brown color and the way they soften under your gaze. “I have an idea,” you murmur, cupping the side of Javier’s face and setting the mashed cupcake back in the box.

Just a moment later, your lips are on his. His eyes have fallen shut and he sighs as you kiss him, a hand finding your waist and pulling you closer to him. He sets the box on the bench behind him and scoots closer, a hand on the side of your neck.

He tastes like coffee and cream cheese frosting, his lips unbearably soft for such a hardened man. You soften him with your touch, when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you.

He’s in fucking Heaven, he thinks, murmuring your name against your lips. He knows you already, knows the kind of person you are. He’d figured you’d maybe give a chaste kiss on the first date if you liked the person enough. The voracity of your lips against his tells him you might just reciprocate the intensity of the deep ache in his ribs he feels for you.

After a moment, you break away and smile softly. “I didn’t get all of it,” you frown as you see that there’s still some frosting on Javier’s nose.

“At least now we match,” he teases and wipes your face of some red crumbs that transferred to your chin with the pad of his thumb.

You giggle and press your forehead to his, the warmth of his body perfect against yours in the slight chill of the December night. “Will you come visit me at work again tomorrow?” You ask him.

“Only if you make me a drink that tastes as good as you do.”

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