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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

Text

Under the Floorboards (Pt. VI)

(Technoblade X Reader) Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V, Pt. VI, Pt. VII

You had barely gotten any sleep that night, it was a shitty time to not sleep but you couldn’t control insomnia. Most nights it was Techno who was the insomniac, he would spend hours laying awake just staring at you waiting for the voices to quiet down for the night. He was in awe of your beauty and grace, and the nighttime moonlight only ever enhanced those features. You couldn’t help but understand what he was talking about as you stared at his features in the moonlight darkness of your room. His hair was out of its typical braid and framed his head like a pink halo, you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you tucked his hair behind his ear. The tension in his brow released feeling your touch brush against his skin and you smiled adoringly at the sight. His nose nuzzles up against your neck and your smile split into a wide grin, god he was so soft. You felt his fingers spread out against the small of your back and pull you flush against him, his breathing changed and you frowned.

You didn’t expect anything less than the blood god to be a light sleeper. He always needed to be on his feet, ready for any attack.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” your voice was barely above a whisper and he made a tired noise of confirmation.

“It’s okay,” He yawned and it echoed across the walls of the house like a lion’s roar. “It’s rare when you can’t sleep, what’s on your mind?” Technoblade shifted a little so he could get a good look at you in his arms, he could never get over how small you were in comparison to him. You flipped on your back much to his displeasure and dragged your hands down your face; a sigh came from your nose before you answered,

“Thinking about tomorrow is all. Just nervous, typical stuff I think, I don’t trust Dream fully. He gives me bad vibes.” You said honestly, your (e/c) eyes staring up at the ceiling even from the angle Techno was looking at you he could tell they were sad. God, he wasn’t good at comforting people things like this made him feel like such a shitty person.

“I don’t trust him either. But, we have mutual goals and a mutual understanding both of which are hard to come by.” He explained briefly looking thoughtful, “the bottom line is this needs to happen. I don’t want you to worry because Phil and I will have your back no matter what, we look out for each other.” You flopped on top of him and he let out a grunt of displeasure,

“I’m worried about you dummy.”

“Technoblade never dies baby what are you on about?” He let out a laugh as you rested your elbows on his chest, his hands found themselves on your back holding you close. He watched you roll your eyes dramatically and pinch at his ears, he clicked his tongue at you. “Keep pinching my ears like that and we’re gonna have to fight it out,” his lips twitched into a fond smile as you sat upon his hips holding up your fists.

“Then let’s fight cause I’m not gonna stop. They’re just too pinchable big guy. Your little piglin features are precious and I’m gonna dote over them.” His face burned red and he groaned loudly, his head landing against the pillows with a thump.

“It’s just the ears, teeth, and the height. You’re being gross.”

“Fuck you I’m being romantic.”

“Which is gross and cringe if you didn’t know.”

“Fine then I guess you won’t be getting any kisses from me for a long while.”

“Now hold on a minute let's talk about this like adults,” You laughed loudly and smirked at Techno’s attempts to keep cool about the situation. You leaned down and peppered his face with light kisses, he hummed pleasantly at the sensation.

“I’ll let it slide this time but watch your words.” Techno gave a sleepy nod of his head, and you smiled tenderly at the man. You shuffled around and curled up against his side, he adjusted himself to hold you close, “I love you Techno.”

“Love you too princess.” He pecked your forehead before he closed his eyes and fell back into a light sleep. You took a deep breath and buried your face in his chest listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart, this time however you weren’t far behind him.

~~~

Technoblade was up as soon as the sun rose over the hills and spilled into your bedroom. He made sure to maneuver around you so that he wouldn’t wake you as soon as he sat up in bed. He stretched his arms behind his back until he heard the satisfying pop of his bones, he scratched at his head and tousled his pink hair. Techno wanted an early start, make sure everything they needed for the day was prepared and ready to go, he needed to brew a shit ton of potions. He also needed to make sure you had an appropriate set of armor, that’s not even mentioning the Withers he needed to gather. A lot to do and so little time to get it all done, he wanted to let you sleep as much as possible considering you didn’t sleep last night. He slid out of bed and grabbed his hairbrush, one thing he could attribute to meeting you was his hygiene habits. Techno always used to keep his hair in a braid and never touch it, it wasn’t until you had first run your hands through his hair that he realized how much of a problem that was. You were very nice about it but he could tell you were trying not to gag when he told you he couldn’t remember the last time it was unbraided. You assured him that was going to change and helped him nurse his hair back to life, whatever you did it was magical. His hair was just as soft as yours, healthy and shiny he couldn’t let you down by not taking care of it. However, since he was going into battle he threw his hair into a quick braid letting it fall over his shoulder before he majestically sat his crown on top of his head.

Technoblade stared at himself in the mirror and traced his rough hands over the scars on his face and neck, he had no idea what the fuck you saw in him. Honestly, who cares though because by some miracle you love him for him and that’s all that matters. Technoblade continued to get dressed for the day and only stopped when you began to stir under the covers. He watched you sit up and give the cutest yawn he’s ever heard in his life his eyes softened considerably seeing you look around hazily for him. Spotting him you opened your arms and made grabby hands, he let out a deep chuckle and wrapped his arms around you.

‘Simp. Stop spamming simp. He is a simp though, look at him melt. Shut up.’

“Chat shut it...Morning Princess,” He kissed your lips softly and he felt you lazily kiss him back, still sluggish from sleep.

“Morning Bubs. Why didn’t you wake me up?” You complained from his arms only pulling away to look him in the eyes. He always thought you had the most gorgeous eyes, why was he feeling so lovey-dovey today?

‘Cause, you could lose her today. Her lives are unknown. What if she only has one like Phil and has no idea and she dies? E.’

Those thoughts and ideas chilled him to the bone he swallowed thickly, “You sure I can’t change your mind about today?” He watched your brow furrow and you kissed your teeth,

“No way. Till the end of the line remember?”

“Oh, I remember. In that case,” Technoblade pulled you to your feet much to your surprise, “You come back to me uninjured, we get married.” He watched your jaw drop and your eyes widen to insane sizes. “If you want obviously, no pressure.”

‘WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU. AWWWWW SO ROMANTIC! SIMP. SHE’S GOING TO SAY NO. LOSER. CRINGE. GUYS STOP HE’S BEING SWEET!’

He felt panic surge through him when you didn’t respond to him for a good few minutes, oh he fucked up. Technoblade never dies, more like Technoblade’s about to throw himself into lava three fucking times.

“Yes! Holy shit yes you idiot! Damn now that’s some motivation!” You laughed in disbelief and you bounced on your toes. Technoblade let out a breath of relief, he took a risk and it paid off, he was Technoblade after all so of course, it did. He wasn’t worried at all. You grabbed the fluff of his cape and pulled him down to kiss him passionately, his hands grabbed your hips and lifted you into the air. He knew it wasn’t official yet, as he said you had to come back okay, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate at least a little bit early. He kissed down your face and listened as you giggled, he could tell your face was turning red by its heat, “Okay goober we gotta get ready. There are crimes we gotta commit and I still need to shower.”

“Nonsense you smell like lavender and’ all that other girly stuff.” Technoblade scoffed but pulled away as you requested. A smile fell across your face and he felt you poke his nose fondly, “I’ll be gathering potion materials, if you need me just holler.” On that note, he headed down the ladder to gather what he needed for the day. Phil would probably be joining momentarily and he’d put him on potion making duty and also give him a totem of undying. His stomach churned a little as he placed water bottles inside the brewing stands, his singular totem of undying.

He had already decided he’d give it to Phil, if he didn’t he felt like it would be a betrayal of all the man had done for him in the past.

Technoblade turned towards the window and saw Phil approaching his home from the sky, he opened the window and gave him a little wave. Phil smiled back at him and climbed the stairs to get inside the house, “Hello. Are you both ready for today?” Phil looked around seemingly trying to spot you, Technoblade pointed upstairs and he nodded in understanding.

“I wouldn’t say we’re ready exactly.” He let out a huff, “I’m trying to make triple the potions before Dream gets here, plus I wanna make sure (Y/N)’s weapons and armor are enchanted properly.” Phil hummed thoughtfully opening up some of Technoblade’s chests, only mentally gagging at the disorganization.

“I got your back brewing the potions, go double-check everything’s ready for (Y/N), I know you worry ‘bout her mate.” Techno had to turn away because he felt heat flare in his face, he heard Phil begin to snicker and he glowered.

“Imagine thinking I care about others, cringe.”

“Oh really? I’ll just go tell (Y/N) that then-”

“Eh? No need to do that. I don’t appreciate being framed. Anyway, potions Phil, potions you need to focus on what’s important here.” Another laugh came from Phil as he rolled his eyes fondly at his friend.

“On it Techno.”

Both men got to work brewing potions and double-checking weaponry, not just for you but for all of them. Well, all of you minus Dream the homeless man can fend for himself. In the meantime, Technoblade gave Phil his totem of undying just in case today went fucking wrong.

“Alright boys, what do you need me to do?” You announced climbing down the ladder, you had made sure your hair was out of the way so it wouldn’t be a distraction. Technoblade smiled as he watched the emerald he gave you those months ago bounce against your neck.

“Go make sure you have enough ender pearls and exp bottles for your armor. Is all your armor enchanted properly?”

“Obviously,” You rolled your eyes dramatically “as if you’d ever let me get away with subpar armor.” Technoblade held up his hands in defensively,

“Just making sure. You can’t blame me for wanting you protected.”

“Daw.”

“Shut up Phil.” Technoblade watched a smile form across your face as you covered your mouth with your hand. He was just happy you were laughing, “grab your weapons lemme check them.” You nodded your head and kissed his cheek tenderly, he normally wasn’t one for PDA but Phil was a different story. You handed over your weapons to him and he looked over them, he started with your sword that was aptly titled The Wanderer’s Trade all the enchantments seemed to line up properly, he also double-checked your ax to see it lined up too. “Remember their shields go up you use your ax.” He watched as you nodded in response, you weren’t dumb he knew that but he couldn’t help but want to double-check strategies with you.

“I know you trained me well,” You hummed fondly, as he handed you back your ax. He watched as you twirled it in your hands, “Good ole’ Foster Mom won’t let me down.” Both Phil and Techno chuckled at your response, Technoblade gave you a loving pat on the head before sending you off to gather some more glowstone. The three of you spent the rest of the morning gathering supplies, and as the afternoon rolled around Technoblade felt himself grow more and more frantic as the time ticked closer to doomsday. He began to ramble a bit about needing to prepare things especially after Dream showed up early and announced they were going early into L’manberg. Dream explained that he was going to need about twenty minutes to prepare the TNT for the cannons, which meant (Y/N), Phil, and Technoblade himself needed to stall for that amount of time.

That meant the Withers needed to be in play.

Technoblade distributed Wither skulls and the soul sand between the three of you.

He watched as you stared at the skull in your hands gently cradling it before putting it into your inventory. He hoped you were being honest and were okay with what was about to happen.

“Now we really have to go.” Dream tried to urge your little group to speed up and get this show on the road. Techno nodded his head and clicked his tongue against his teeth,

“Alright, first things first let we need to get the hound army.” He watched your entire face come alight,

“Hound army? You didn’t tell me we had puppies!” He felt you grip his arm with the enthusiasm of a child, he winced a little bit at your eagerness. Techno glanced at Dream who was just as unreadable as always with his mask but Techno could sense his patience with you running thin.

“I didn’t wanna tell you cause there’s a good chance we lose like all of them today.” He watched you deflate but nod in understanding, “so don’t get attached okay?”

“I won’t!”

“Let’s go. Time’s ticking.” Dream commanded tapping his boots on the floor, “Let’s get those dogs and get to L’manberg.” The four of you grabbed your weapons and headed down the steps of Technoblade’s house, hopefully, you all will come back to see it again.

---

Phil walked by your side as Technoblade led all of you through the sewers, Dream was close to your boyfriend’s side almost like he was trying to memorize the proper twists and turns. However, something told you he already knew this place like the back of his hand.

“What’s on your mind?” Phil asked you to keep his voice low to not draw attention to yourselves. Smiling over at him you gave a thoughtful hum,

“Just the typical worries I suppose. Hoping we win and no one who we care about dies, like the kids you know. I know I can’t control you, Techno, or Dream but if it came down to it I won’t be able to hurt them.” The look you gave him was nothing less than vulnerable and it touched his heart with a soft sigh he responded to you,

“I know it’s not specifically in Techno or my agenda to slaughter Tommy and Tubbo. We just want to take down the corrupt government that’s poisoning its citizens. As long as it stands those kids can never be happy.”

“I’m with you there. Hell, I don’t think Techno and I could date if we didn’t share those ideologies. They made a child president for Pete’s sake I mean no wonder it’s falling apart.” You took a deep breath and nudged the old man beside you. “Even so my priorities are with you and Technoblade. We’re all fucking coming home if I have any say in the matter,” Phil gave a laugh and smiled at you.

“That’s a fucking relief to hear. Wasn’t aware you could control death.”

“Says the man with a totem of undying.”

“Guys we’re here,” Technoblade called standing beside a wall, he looked at all of you and opened the stone with his pickaxe. “Meet the hounds,” He mused leading you inside, you were trying desperately to keep your excitement at bay.

“Holy shit is it loud.” Dream commented with a disbelieving laugh hearing all the dogs bark in excitement upon seeing their master. Technoblade scratched a few of them behind the ears before commanding all of them to stand, it was insane.

“That’s so many dogs they’re gonna be so confused.” You commented,

“You know what you should do?” Dream mused, turning to look at you, “splash them with invisibility.”

“Already ahead of you,” Technoblade mused as Philza began to splash a good chunk of them. “They’re gonna be so confused it’s gonna be so funny. When they get hit by nothing, it’ll be like I have a forcefield.”

“Let's get to L’manberg and surprise them first.” Dream motioned for all of you to follow, and you did without hesitation. Technoblade took your hand and squeezed it tightly, he watched as Phil and Dream went on ahead and he turned to give you a soft kiss.

“Don’t die on me, okay princess? You get into trouble protecting yourself, run if you have to. I don’t give a shit I just want you alive.” Technoblade commanded you, even wagged a finger in front of your face. A finger you grabbed and pressed a soft kiss to,

“Same to you. I’ll see you on the other side.” Technoblade smiled adoringly at you and you both moved to catch up with Dream and Phil. You pulled out The Wanderer’s Trade and made sure Foster Mom, your ax, and the materials to craft your Withers were at the ready.

“(Y/N), Phil when I shoot fireworks into the sky start spawning the Withers. I’m going straight in with the hounds.” He watched both of you nod, Dream let out a hum of acknowledgment.

“Sounds good to me. Remember I shouldn’t need more than twenty minutes, I’ll send Technoblade the signal.”

“Yes sir.” You gave a teasing salute and no one else seemed amused by that except for the green man himself.

“I could get used to that.”

“Get the fuck out of here you homeless Teletubby.” Techno almost snarled at the man, while the man in question flipped your boyfriend off. Even Phil could tell he had a sickening smirk spread across his face, whether he meant it or not if it bothered the three of you he was gonna continue with it.

“Phil, I’ll sneak over to the houses, you gonna stay in this general vicinity?” You quickly changed the subject, the man nodded in response.

“I’ll probably stay on top of the bee sanctuary, I figure two people in the air and one on the ground will be a good call.” You nodded taking one last glance at Technoblade before sneaking off to prepare the high ground.

---

Technoblade sprinted right into the battle once everyone realized you all were there early. He felt the pressure begin to build in his head, as the voices began to buzz with excitement, they all demanded blood and vengeance. He wasn’t losing any lives today but that didn’t mean anyone else was, it was hilarious the moment he hit anyone his dogs would be at their heels tearing them apart. He stayed on top of everyone, he made sure to keep an eye on his hearts while slicing through his opponents. As they got distracted by his dogs he would come up behind them and drive his sword into their chest. His laughter echoed in the air as the names of the dead appeared in his head, he heard their pleading for a cease-fire and decided he didn’t give a single shit. Technoblade couldn’t find the energy to care for their pleas, even as his dogs began to thin rapidly. There was blood and there was pandemonium and he was living for it, sure there were a few close calls. Not that he would ever admit it, but Sapnap got him good in the shoulder and the back of the leg, almost leaving an opening for him to land a finishing blow. However, he recovered with no problem, he always did, obviously.

Technoblade booked it away from the fighting and sent the firework rocket into the sky. Almost as soon as he did, he set up his own Wither. The entire battlefield glowed red, white, and blue and he watched people’s faces morph into absolute terror. He heard what sounded like Tommy let out a terrified scream, he had no idea what he was in for if he was afraid of one Wither. Then again, Tommy was the only one who knew about the vault so realistically he shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was up to Phil and (Y/N) now.

“Is that Phil? What the hell?! He’s spawning a Wither!” Someone shouted and Technoblade’s face lit up in delight. He watched Phil send out his Withers before flying away as to not immediately get targeted by them. Technoblade turned his head towards the houses and saw you place your Withers down as well. He thought you looked gorgeous spawning in the Withers, it pulled him out of his blood lust just for a moment, the wicked smile on your face was stunning. He watched as you laughed tossing your hair back, the way it framed your face was remarkable, he thought you looked like Eris.

An arrow that whizzed by his face and it snapped him out of his ogling, he turned back to rubble only to come face to face with Tommy and Tubbo.

“Technoblade! Stop this!” Tommy began to plead as they stood on the opposite end of the battlefield, he did pause to stare at the children.

“Please!” Tubbo begged from his side and Technoblade grit his teeth in frustration, after all this time they still didn’t understand his ideals or why he was so mad in the first place.

“You betrayed us Technoblade! You betrayed me! Just fucking stop this! Help us kill the Withers and stop Dream. All you’ve ever done is betray us, since we met you that’s all you’ve done. It all started with you killing Tubbo at the festival! Just stop this!-” He felt his blood turn to ice and he turned to face Tommy pointing his crossbow at the two boys. He watched Tubbo flinch and grab onto Tommy’s arm, clearly traumatized from the last time the weapon was pointed at him. Technoblade bared his teeth and felt his face begin to morph into that of a full pig, something that only happened when he was pissed to hell and losing control of himself.

“Remember when I was sitting there, alone, against the whole government -- and you and Wilbur just sat there on the sidelines and watched? Did you step in? Did you step in? Were you guys the ones that stepped in and said, "Don't worry, Technoblade, we know you're in a high-pressure situation, but we'd fight the world for you, Technoblade''? No! You guys watched. You know what I did, yesterday when you were surrounded by thirty people? When the whole world was against you? I walked in. I was willing to fight all of them for you, Tommy. I would've been there. That is the difference between us." The man roared his voice carrying over the battleground, catching the attention of a few others who were still trying to kill the Withers nearby. For a brief moment Tommy looked broken up by Technoblade’s words but he pushed it aside with a shake of his head. He was about to argue back when the faintest of hissing sounds came from above. Everyone turned towards the sky, a flash of lightning illuminated the scene above them, Dream was standing on top of the obsidian grid. Technoblade made sure to take a few steps away so he wasn’t right underneath the first bit of dropping TNT,

“No,” Tubbo’s voice wobbled “What’s he doing, he can't-”

Almost like Tubbo predicted the outcome TNT began to rain down in the dead center of New L’manberg, the panicked shouts from the citizens only increased tenfold. The falling explosives spread out in the grid-like pattern Dream had created, making sure to hit every square inch of the once great country.

“Tubbo RUN!” Tommy grabbed his arm and pulled this best friends away just in time to not get injured by the first round of explosions that went off in the middle of town. Technoblade made quick work of dodging the falling pieces of TNT as he flew up onto the obsidian grid his Trident in hand. He watched gleefully as L’manberg was sent up in smoke, everything from the houses to whatever the fuck the L’mantree Dream mentioned was, was blown to shreds. Personally, Technoblade didn’t want Dream to stop until he saw bedrock at the bottom of the pit. He looked over and saw Phil smiling widely at him, the man gave him a clear thumbs-up spreading his wings wide. He could tell Phil was proud of him, he was proud of himself.

“Where’s (Y/N) mate?” He called out to him and the bliss he was feeling suddenly crumbled into pieces around him. Technooblade whipped around towards the last place he spotted his girlfriend, on top of the houses that were now blown to smithereens. He turned back towards Phil, panic in his eyes, Phil’s smile was immediately wiped off his face and he hopped down off the grid and into the rubble. Technoblade wasn’t far behind in his panicked searching, there was no sign of her anywhere and he was starting to lose his composure. Even as the TNT stopped falling around them and everyone began to head home (if they had one left to return to) he still couldn’t find her. That was until an unfamiliar voice called out to him,

“Mr. Technoblade!” The boy was half enderman and bordering on seven feet tall, he turned to face him and he swallowed thickly, “Miss (Y/N), she needs help!” Technoblade didn’t even respond he just let the Enderboy lead him to where she was, god please don’t be dead, please. The boy stood over her, wringing his hands nervously, a jacket was laid over her body and she was dragged far away from the wreckage. Technoblade froze as he watched the boy kneel and pull the jacket away, bandages were haphazardly tied around her waist and her breathing seems shallow. The half enderman looked up at him and swallowed thickly, “I found her under the rubble of my house.”

“I can handle it from here. Get out of here kid.” His voice was a low grumble and Ranboo hesitated for a moment before nodding, he knelt, picked up his other belongings, and headed off in the direction of the forest. Technoblade knelt beside you, his hands hovering over your injury, he felt his palms clam up as he opened and closed them. “You better not die on me princess, you promised,” he opened up the bandages on your waist, all things considered, the boy didn’t do that bad of a job patching you up. There weren't a lot of medical supplies on the battlefield so he did what he could with what he had, she must’ve gotten cut by a stray piece of metal as she fell, that’s what it looked like to him at least. Other than the jagged cut across her waist her ankle was twisted in a way that certainly wasn’t normal, his princess was beaten to hell. He swallowed thickly and began to rewrap her wound a bit more tightly so she didn’t bleed out, he felt a gust of wind beside him and he knew Phil was by his side.

“Fuck.” He murmured kneeling to set her ankle properly, the old man licked his lips before setting her ankle with a harsh tug. (Y’N)’s eyes shot open and she let out a shriek. “Sorry kid, sorry,” Her breathing went from shallow to heavy and frantic. Technoblade reached forward and grabbed your hand tight.

“Hey princess stay with me okay?”

“Bubs.” You whined painfully, “I guess I fucked up huh?”

“Only a lot,” Technoblade stated bluntly and watched as you let out a wheezing laugh that devolved into a cough. He frowned and took his other hand to card it through your hair, “Just take a deep breath we’ll get you home and all patched up.”

“Guess we aren’t getting married huh.”

“Fucking what-” Phil choked his eyes blowing wide, jaw-dropping Techno’s face flushed red in response.

“Half dead and you still find a way to torture me.” You laughed again as Phil only shook his head in disbelief,

“That is so scuffed. Go take her home, she’s gonna need stitches and a splint for her leg. Make sure she gets home safe.” Phil placed his hand on Technoblade’s shoulder and squeezed it before kissing your forehead softly, “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Obviously. Mr. Minecraft, would you expect anything less from me?”

“Nothing less,” He smiled fondly as Technoblade cradled you in his arms before hurrying away down the path. Phil stood up tall a frown evident on his features, he turned around to catch Raboo peaking out from behind the treeline. “Hey, Ranboo how’re you doing?”

“Um. I’m alright. Fine, I’m fine, is (Y/N) going to be alright?” He stepped out from behind the tree patting his hands on his pants a bit nervously. Phil eyed the kid up and down for a moment and he cleared his throat, “I found her she was really, really bad.”

“She’s going to be just fine, Techno’s looking after her.”

“Good, good.” He nodded the tall mans shoulders seemed to relax and Phil couldn’t help but look at him with pity.

“Ranboo, do you have a place to stay?”

“Ugh...you know what no I don’t actually.” Phil smiled over at the boy and held out his hand, his multicolored eyes widened a little as he interlocked his hands with the father beside him.

: )

~~~

Thanks for reading guys! I think this is the longest chapter yet, let me know your thoughts, feelings and opinions! : )

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dreamsmp x reader #dream smp #dreamsmp x you #Blood for the Blood God #rp #x reader #x you #minecraft x reader #minecraft fanfiction #minecraft x you #fanfiction #fanfic

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cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc · 3 years

Text

“I'll always be here.”

Summary: Life can be terrible sometimes, but your boyfriend Karl makes it a little better ❀ (gender neutral)

Author’s note: head empty, just karl being soft for you (♡´◡`♡) also!! you’re a streamer in this fic - enjoy!

Trigger warning: Mention of depression

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

You’ve been waiting for this day to come for a while now.

You have a habit of falling into a depression every so often, ranging from a week to a month. Sometimes even longer. It’s never fun, but it happens.

You wake up and don’t want to get out of bed. Your body is too heavy to be lifted just by your two arms. Eventually you manged to get out of your bed and walked into the bathroom to brush your teeth. It took around ten minutes, but you got the job done.

You put on one of your favorite hoodies and your favorite perfume, it made you feel a little better. The hoodie in question was one from your boyfriend, Karl. You’ve been dating for a year now, and he knew about your depressive episodes.

You plopped into your seat and started the computer sitting in front of you. You checked your webcam to see if you looked okay. You decided that it was probably fine, and started your stream.

“Hello everybody! How is everyone?” You greeted your chat with a little more energy than you really had.

You had been streaming for about 30 minutes, and one of your viewers donated.

“You look tired, are you okay? Love the streams keep it up <3″

“Oh no, I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well yesterday. I guess you noticed the bags under my eyes.” You replied. “Thanks for the $5.″

……………………………………………………………

Karl really likes watching your streams and often just had it running in the background while he’s working on a video.

When he got the notification, he opened Twitch on a different tab and continued clicking on his computer. He was logged in on his alt-account, so that you didn’t notice Karl was watching the stream.

“Hello everybody! How is everyone?”

He loves your voice. Just listening to it puts his mind at ease. A gentle smile appears on his face.

After he was done with his work he opened the tab with Twitch open. He quickly took note of your features; your droopy eyes, the slight purple tint under them, your slouched position and slow movement. He quickly figured out what it meant.

“You look tired, are you okay? Love the streams keep it up <3″

“Oh no, I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well yesterday. I guess you noticed the bags under my eyes.” You replied. “Thanks for the $5.″

That confirmed Karl’s worries.

His eyebrows furrowed as you slightly chuckles at your remark.

He muted the stream and looked at his phone. He wanted to call you and ask if you were okay, but he decided not to interrupt your stream. He wanted to wait until you were done.

……………………………………………………………

“Okay guys, I’m going to end the stream now. Thanks for coming, bye!”

You hit the ‘End stream’ button, and leaned back into your chair. You were beat. You stood up and stumbled to the kitchen. You grabbed a glass of water and leaned against the kitchen counter.

Your head was throbbing, probably from looking at a computer screen for so long when you’re this tired. You never liked streaming while being in the state that you’re in. But you wanted to stream, your viewers would get worried if you didn’t.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Karl texted you.

karl💜: ‘hey sugar, is it okay if i come over later today?’

Y/N💕💕: ‘sure :)’

You knew you were too trashed to talk to anyone, but if you just flat out refuse, he’d be even more suspicious. Normally he doesn’t visit you in the evening, so what could he want at this hour? You didn’t question it too much, though.

……………………………………………………………

You heard a knock at your front door. ‘That must be Karl’, you thought. You walked towards the sound and looked through the small hole in the door. You saw your boyfriend and unlocked it. You opened the door and greeted Karl

“Hi, Karl..!” You cringed at how un-energized you sound.

"Hi baby!" you noticed a plastic bag that he was holding. You didn't really question it.

You welcomed him in and you both settled on the couch, with the bag on the floor, there were some of your favorite drinks and snacks in it. You leaned into him as he talked about a stream he did recently. Karl's stomach growled.

"You want pizza? We can order some if you want." He said.

"Good idea, I'm kinda hungry." You reply.

……………………………………………………………

Karl was happily chewing on a slice of pizza as you take a sip of your drink.

After he finished his slice, he moved towards you and swung an arm over your shoulders.He placed a small kiss on your hair and eventually settled his head on yours.

“Y’know, if you ever wanna talk, I’m here.” He said in a quiet tone.

You climbed on his lap, one leg on each side.You kissed him on his forehead before laying your head in the crook of his neck.

He wrapped his arms around you.

“I’ll always be here, ___.” He let himself slowly fall sideways. You and him were laying horizontally on the couch, limbs tangled with each other.

“I love you, Karl.” You say softly, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“I love you too, ___.” He responds in a sweet and quiet tone.He tightens his grip on you slightly.

You were so blessed to have him with you.

m.list

#cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #karl jacobs #karl jacobs x reader #dream smp fanfiction #mcyt fanfiction #i may or may not have written this for a specific mutual of mine #but hey #iykyk

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battlinghurricanes · 3 years

Text

I have another Patzagchilles AU!

(Yeah I know I have a problem but the hyperfixation has me, what more do you want?)

Achilles is a beautiful Aegean nereid that gets captured off the coast and, despite his vicious escape attempts, ends up dragged to land and traded off to a traveling menagerie. His awful, tiny tank is kept with their other “money maker” for convenience, a rare Underworld demon named Zagreus.

His cage seems just as cramped, miserable, and inhospitable as Achilles’ tank, and he seems just as restless in there, even though he must have spent far more time in it than Achilles has. Zagreus does seem more resigned to their occasional forced performances though, acting up with feigned aggression without the threat of a whip.

Achilles can see plenty of scars from before he decided to accept it. Now, he just paces and snarls and frightens the crowds with his fangs without prompting and then is the most polite person Achilles has ever talked to at all other times.

Achilles understands and sympathizes with why Zagreus complies with their orders, but has no intentions to do the same. They open the top of his tank and want him to perform with twirls and flips and other fanciful nonsense, but they’re fools.

He keeps his tail while in the tank, but a nereid can walk on legs when they so choose, whether they realize that or not. There’s already a crowd by the time they finally open it all the way up but Achilles doesn’t care.

He throws himself out and makes a break for it. The spectators flee but the workers scramble to try to drag him down. He’s unarmed and outnumbered but he almost makes it far enough before someone manages to spear him through the back of the heel and they drag him back.

The wound heals eventually but there’s a shackle on his wrist now and no room to try and escape again. Everything is still so restricted and unlivable and he loathes it but at least there’s Zagreus because, by now, Achilles has grown just as resigned.

Patroclus is getting desperate. He’s displaced from his home, in need of a job, and doing all he can to avoid getting involved in a brewing war. A job with this menagerie that will keep him on the move would work well for him.

It won’t be pretty but he’s always been good with animals and he can make it work. They take him on board readily enough but he finds more than just animals. There’s a nereid with his arms crossed over the edge of his tank chatting with a demon (dear gods, those are rare) in an uncomfortable metal cage as if they’re dearest friends talking over a nice lunch and not chained up and trapped in squalid conditions.

“I didn’t realize you kept people here,” Patroclus says testily. The man showing him around laughs and replies, “You won’t last long here if you can’t tell the difference between people and monsters.” The nereid and demon are both staring at him now and he has a very grim feeling about this at this point but he doesn’t have any other plan for himself.

Patroclus works where they tell him to, then tries to help where he can, keeping an eye on that strange pair in particular. They don’t belong here. The nereid, Achilles, is a beautiful creature covered with scales, almost transparent and ever so slightly iridescent above his waist, then rich blue green over his tail. Graceful frills line its edges that stir gently in the water. Pointed nails tip webbed fingers.

When he’s not talking to the demon, Achilles makes for a sad sight. Patroclus watches him drift at the bottom of his tank, still, staring off into the distance as if in the hope of catching sight of something more interesting. Pat has tried to offer some conversation, but goes unanswered.

Zagreus, the demon, is another story. He stares at Patroclus with his wide, red and green eyes. He constantly twitches the hooked tip of his long, thin tail. He has fire in the skin of his lower legs and a formidable set of claws on his hands and feet that make Achilles’ look dainty. There’s a pair of dark horns curling from his wild hair frame by fiery leaves that Pat can’t explain.

When he asks, Zagreus just says they grow there. He talks all the time. Even when Patroclus has to focus on some task and can’t converse, Zagreus will keep going on by himself, chattering away as he paces in endless circles in his tiny cage, over and over and over.

Pat does his best to keep up, offering conversation he hopes is at least somewhat engaging. Zagreus seems to think so. He smiles at him and laughs with him and he’s surprised to realize how well they’ve truly started getting along. He finds himself wanted to talk as far more than just a guilty courtesy to this locked up man.

It’s this kindness towards Zagreus and their genuine interaction that at length makes Achilles start to warm up to him. He lifts himself over the edge of the tank when it’s open or up to one of the holes in the glass when it’s not to join in their little chats. He’s more reserved than Zagreus but has a dry wit that he enjoys and the sound of his voice is lovely.

Achilles and Zagreus are not always together. Sometimes, when the group settles for the night, it’s just more convenient to set their tank and cage somewhere apart. Patroclus gets into the habit of keeping one or the other company on those nights.

His superiors don’t mind assigning him to take care of the two of them more and more since he’s willing to do it anyway and they don’t seem eager to rip his hands off. As long as he knows his place and stays in line, they don’t care if he wastes his time with them.

Patroclus has never cared about staying in line or in his place but he’s a good enough liar to pretend like he does.

He’ll talk to Achilles or Zagreus or both of them late into the night, half the time just falling asleep beside them without returning to his bed. The other men look at him strangely sometimes but they’re not nearly as good a company anyway, and Achilles and Zagreus are smarter and funnier as well, and they both have such interesting stories to tell and listen so raptly to his own, and fine- gods damn it- he’s falling in love with both of them.

Patroclus has never really been one for false modesty, and he thinks his affection is at least somewhat reciprocated. Achilles’ eyes trail after him all the time, a sharp contrast to the absent depression he displayed before.

He smiles at him more, little things as if they’re sharing a secret just between the two of them. He starts to make these soft trills at him as well, lyrical noises that he doesn’t understand but send his heart swooping through his chest anyway. He’s only ever heard him make such sounds at Zagreus on occasion, otherwise.

It’s harder to tell with Zagreus since he’s been so affectionate from the get go, but Patroclus notices a blush accompanying most of his smiles nowadays and his gaze flickers over his form more frequently.

The demon nearly jumps out of his skin when Pat pushes a comforting hand through the bars of his cage one day. He shudders dramatically when he takes it in his own. Patroclus’s heart pangs when he realizes he likely hasn’t felt a kind touch in a very long time. He offers his own more frequently after that and Zagreus accepts his touch almost reverently, tracing his fingers over the lines in his palm.

It’s with Achilles that Patroclus first gets the chance to reveal what’s in his heart. He watches his eyes glow with awe and longing before tightening with hesitation and shame. Voice halting, he tells him, “You deserve more than me. I’m trapped and imprisoned and helpless to what these people demand of me.”

Patroclus sighs in response. “I happened to notice that. I love you anyway.” Achilles eyes go wide and his lips part as if he means to argue, but all that escapes him is a wounded, desperate sound and he reaches out to cup his face with shaking hands and kiss him. Patroclus strains to lean up to where Achilles hangs out of his tank as far as the chains will allow.

Zagreus ardently confesses in return when Patroclus tells him of his affection, though it’s harder to deliver the kiss that he also reaches for. The bars of his cage force an awkward angle and Zagreus sounds a bit choked when he apologizes for it as he pulls back.

Patroclus hushes him and says, “The love is more important than anything that might try to get in the way, dear Zagreus.” He pulls his hands out through the bars and kisses all over his claws and knuckles and palms as Zagreus’s lashes flutter rapidly. Patroclus wishes he could pull him from this cage completely, all cold unforgiving metal so that Zagreus has nothing to burn.

Pat is glad that neither Achilles nor Zagreus take issue with his shared love of them. He hid nothing, but still worried absently that they wouldn’t appreciate him coming between them. However, they both still eagerly enjoy his presence and neither one shies from the affection he shows to the other.

But still, he gets a strange sense in response to such displays, not angry or unwelcoming, but maybe something bitter, maybe something jealous. The explanation he stumbles upon catches him off guard.

One night, when Achilles’ tank is elsewhere, Zagreus asks him with a voice so low and shot through with longing, what Achilles feels like. What it’s like to hold his hand. Patroclus blinks in surprise. Zagreus tells him they’ve never touched. Ah.

Zagreus stares like he’s starving as he describes the strangely cool slip of his skin, the smooth stroke down the scales on the back of his hand and the rough drag up the other way. Zagreus tells him that he’s glad Pat can give him the love he deserves. Pat tries to reassure him that Achilles certainly appreciates the company of his lover, even when they’re physically separated.

Zagreus jolts and flushes and quickly tells him that he and Achilles aren’t lovers. Patroclus blinks hard once again. They are so familiar and affectionate with each other that he never questioned the assumption, such that he can’t think of any response other than “Why not?”

He looks so heart wrenchingly plaintive as he says, “How could we be? He deserves so much and I have nothing to offer him. I can’t even reach him. I want the best for him and I can’t give him any of that.” It aches deep in Patroclus’s heart but he can also barely stop from rolling his eyes at how blind he’s being.

“That’s ridiculous,” Pat tells him. “You’ve given Achilles so much more than you realize. I’m sure he loves you.” Zagreus frowns and disagrees. Patroclus sighs. “Well what about the company Achilles has given you, hmm? What does it mean to you?”

“Everything,” he says immediately. “It means the world to me, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Patroclus raises a brow. “Is it really such a stretch of the imagination that Achilles feels the same way about what you have already given him?” Zagreus looks unconvinced but he doesn’t argue either. Once again, he looks at Pat like he’s starving.

He kisses his lovely demon and tries to give him comfort and reassurance before he has to leave for the night. He spends the next night with Achilles, still apart from Zagreus. He also asks him why they aren’t lovers, and what do you know, Achilles gives basically the same reason Zagreus did. Patroclus does roll his eyes this time.

Achilles is more stubborn when Pat tries to tell him that that’s nonsense but he still sees the spark of longing and hope that creeps into his eye as they talk. Pat kisses him plenty as well, and eventually remembers Zagreus’s question that started all this.

Unprompted, Patroclus tells Achilles how incredibly warm Zagreus’s skin is to the touch, how careful and delicate he is with his claws when their hands connect and how hot his breath is when they kiss. Achilles doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, staring unblinkingly at him with pupils wide and dark.

Patroclus doesn’t talk to them the next night when Achilles’ tank is back next to Zagreus’s cage; he approaches to see them talking, voices disguised by low undertones, and decides to leave them undisturbed.

A few nights pass before Zagreus pulls him closer to his bars and looks at him with an edge of desperation before saying, “Take this to Achilles,” and kissing him firmly on the lips. Achilles is right there, he heard him say it, and his gaze drills a hole into Patroclus as he turns and crosses the distance. He says nothing but doesn’t hesitate in the slightest to lean in when Pat pulls himself up.

His breath hitches when Patroclus delivers the message, as accurate as he can be to the way Zagreus kissed him. He pulls back and the nereid needs a moment before his eyes reopen and he says, “Please bring this back to Zagreus,” and kisses so very tenderly.

A little part of Patroclus thinks this feels quite silly since they’re only about 3 yards apart and they’ve both been staring at him this whole time, but Zagreus is beaming at him when he turns back and he really doesn’t mind doing this for them.

Still, once he’s passed on the kiss to Zagreus, he informs them that this is quite the strange arrangement and that he’ll just have to find a way to unite them properly. Zagreus can’t hide his enthusiasm, looking at him nervously but with a smile that’s only grown wider. Achilles sighs shakily and murmurs, “Please be careful.”

Zagreus falls asleep that night pushed up right up to the cage bars, his right arm shoved through a gap up to the bicep, which can’t fit through, and extended right towards Achilles. He can’t reach out of his tank in the same way, but Achilles sleeps pressed against the side nearest Zagreus.

Even when the two of them can’t touch, every inch between them that they can close takes weight off their tender hearts.

Time passes before Patroclus feels comfortable enough about his chances of getting them out. For one, he wants to wait until they’re close enough to the coast before trying. Achilles tells him that he can survive without being in water for an extended time, a few weeks even, but it’s not indefinite. Fortunately, they’re nearing the coast at last.

The master of the menagerie keeps the keys to Achilles’ and Zagreus’s cages on his person at all times, but Patroclus feels confident he can get him drunk enough to swipe them. That just leaves the odds of them getting away fast enough before anyone notices what’s going on.

Achilles scowls and bitterly admits his fear that he won’t be able to keep up. It’s been a long time since his heel was wounded but he hasn’t had the chance to walk since then and he has no faith in his legs’ ability to run.

Patroclus just starts to wonder if they’ll need a new plan when Zagreus declares that demons are strong and near tireless creatures and that he can carry Achilles as far as they need to go for him to get the chance to regain his strength.

Achilles flushes and frets over his well being and Patroclus questions his truthfulness since he sees Zagreus sleeping all the time. He’s quick to reassure that he’ll be fine and that he’ll never leave Achilles behind and that “It’s just because there’s nothing to do around here, Pat, I don’t need to sleep much, but at least it helps with the boredom.”

Two nights later, they put the plan into motion. An amphora of wine gets Pat the keys and he waits patiently until the area around his lovers is as clear as it ever is then starts opening locks as quietly as he can. Zagreus first, then Achilles.

The nereid does land on his feet when he pulls himself out, strong enough to stand, but he looks shaky. Zagreus whispers a little, “May I?” and waits for Achilles minute nod. They both shudder when Zagreus gets an arm under his knees and gathers him up in his arms, pressed so very close as they touch for the first time.

They make a break for the river that they’ll follow to the sea and apparently Zagreus was being fully truthful because he carries Achilles without trouble, even when they keep going until dawn is fully broken to be sure they won’t be caught so easily.

Resting on the river bank, Patroclus admits that food won’t be great for the next few days, he has a town he’s aiming for that he thinks will take about two and a half days to reach, but until then, they’ll have to find things to eat around them.

Achilles quickly announces that if they stay by the river, he can fish up whatever they might need. Zagreus rubs the back of his neck and sheepishly offers his fiery legs to help cook them. Patroclus can’t help but laugh and kiss them both.

Achilles walks on his own for a while before Zagreus helps again; he limps a bit but it’s not as bad as any of them feared. Patroclus examines the old wound when he gets the chance and doesn’t doubt that he’ll get his strength back in time.

He dives in the river when they stop for the night and comes back with three fat trout. Pat elect to build a standard wood fire for the cooking but Zagreus’s feet are useful for getting the kindling to catch anyway.

As Patroclus sets about cooking the two fish (Achilles says he’ll eat his raw but wants to wait to eat with them) he sees Zagreus shuffle up to Achilles out of the corner of his eye. They intertwine their fingers, holding to each other tightly, and although Patroclus isn’t rude enough to stare, he might watch peripherally that lovely first kiss they share.

They’re very clingy with each other and with Patroclus as well, if perhaps not quite as much. They all sleep together that night, Patroclus clamped close in between them, their linked hands resting on his side, and all is not yet right with the world but damn if it doesn’t feel that way.

They end up settling in the little coastal town where the inhabitants are smart enough not to rat out the three strongest people around. Best not to cause trouble with a dangerous nereid, a fierce demon, and their strange mortal who’s more than capable of handling any trouble in his own right.

Besides, they quickly realize that they don’t want to. Achilles brings fresh fish on every market day, even more when Patroclus convinces him that nets are in fact a valid form of fishing and he starts setting them up underwater in ideal spots only he can reach. He’s always proud of his haul but sells and trades them very generously.

Zagreus (who knew a demon could be such a sweetheart?) takes up all sorts of odd jobs around town. He helps most often with the shepherds tending the herds on the outskirts, patrolling the border every few nights and keeping any predators well away from the sheep and cattle.

Patroclus starts helping out the elderly town healer. He admits that he knows quite a bit already about treating wounds and illnesses and helps the old man with tasks he can’t manage on his own anymore. He helps when things are too busy for him to handle alone and takes his place when he passes away a few years later.

The town doesn’t pay much mind to how they sometimes find Achilles snoozing in the surf or to how Zagreus sometimes burns footprints into wood floors when he gets too excited or to how all three of them are so obviously in love because they’re kind and why make trouble where there isn’t any?

Update: art!

#hades game #hades supergiant #zagreus #achilles #patroclus #patzagchilles #pza #achilles hades #patroclus hades #my writing #menagerie au #i guess ill call it #i was trying to make this short enough for a twitter thread #and failed spectacularly #this is 3.4k lmao #i love this trope so much #i think it would be a stretch to call this mermay #even tho it was inspired by that

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wrathandgreed · 3 years

Note

🖤💢🧲💞💔 Satan?

🖤 - Random Romantic Headcanon

Maybe it comes from the number of novels he’s read, but he really truly loves outdoor/nature dates, especially picnics. The peace and quiet of the outdoors is a direct (and pleasing) contrast to the chaos in the house. He loves finding little wildflowers and putting them in your hair. Reading to you while you weave flower crowns or nibble on some baked goods or just stare up at the clouds is amazingly calming and romantic to him.

He likes to leave little notes for you to find. Sometimes he places them inside books he’s lending you, or he writes them in your notes so you’ll get a pick-me-up before another RAD test. Some of them are truly romantic, full of “I love yous” and lines of poetry, some of them are “let’s discuss this later” notes for the book you’re reading, and some are more like “redeem for free kiss” coupons that he leaves under your phone.

What are some habits of theirs that would take getting used to? (Sorry, can’t get the emoji on my ipad!)

The books.....are.....everywhere. Books on shelves, sure. Books in piles on the floor, okay. Books in the bed, questionable. Books under the sink in the bathroom? Really? Books FLOATING IN MIDAIR?? You smacked into one while trying to get up and pee in the middle of the night! Ouch! Every single space in his room is full of sharp hardcover book corners and, sometimes, it’s really freaking annoying. At some point, you have to either succumb or take a stand and refuse to sleep in his room until the bed is clear and there’s solid walkways.

He insists on watching every movie twice. The first time is to absorb the story. The second time is to dissect it with you for symbols, character growth, narrative flow, and basic storytelling principles. This is fine if you’re watching Jane Austen movies or some kind of super-intense Oscar winner. But do we need to do this for every barely-budgeted D-list horror movie? Can we just enjoy something without dissecting it? Once? (Satan has been removed from the Movie Night group chat.)

He insists on paying. For everything. It’s something he got from Lucifer without realizing it. You will NEVER be the one to approach the barista with an order. You will never be able to grab the check off the restaurant table first. At the bookstore? Forget it. He has an account; he doesn’t even pay there. The bills go right to Lucifer. This might be pleasing or annoying, depending on your tastes, but it definitely takes getting used to.

🧲 - What’s an easy way to turn them on/get them riled up?

I mean, do we even have to say it? Cat ears. Seriously, any kind of cat ears. If you have a pair of headphones with cat ears, get rid of them or you’ll never be allowed to listen to music in peace. If you want to really go for it, though, get a pair like the boys have to be wearing in the Paws and Claws events - ones that look really real, that twitch and move. Get them in your favorite color, or his favorite green-and-black. Be waiting in his room wearing the ears and a collar with a bell (and nothing else) and you won’t walk right tomorrow. Any time you want to torture him, take a selfie of yourself wearing the ears - even if you’re fully dressed - and send it to him at the most inopportune times. Wait until he’s being lectured by Lucifer or in a student council meeting or at an art gallery opening.

On a less deliberate note, he’s an absolute sucker for watching you stretch to reach things placed juuuuust a little too high for you. Watching your whole body lengthen out, watching your skirt ride up or your pants stretch over your ass, mesmerizes him. And if this happens with you in the library or his room, reaching tall for a book, you might not escape 😉

Also, you having anything around your neck, like a choker or collar. It doesn’t have to be sexual, but any time you wear one he can’t take his eyes off you. At every one of Diavolo’s fancy events, you make sure to wear a jeweled collar as a necklace.

💞 - Are they a big cuddles? What is cuddling them like?

Initially, he’s definitely not big into cuddles. He’s not used to physical touch and always, in the back of his mind, is the knowledge that he could get angry and hurt you at almost any moment. So he tends to be really stiff every time you lean into him or rest your body on him.

But he gives in really quick.

He realizes that when he relaxes into it, the anger that rages in him is less. Not gone, but it’s like the volume on it is turned down. So he becomes INTENSELY into cuddles. Anywhere the two of you are together, he’s touching you if he can. And if it’s a place you can relax, he’s cuddling.

His absolute favorite is snuggling on the couch - him on his back, you resting next to/on top of his chest. He can balance the bottom of his book on your shoulder and read, either silently or out loud to you, and it’s the calmest and most relaxed he’s ever been in his life.

If you need to be upright and doing something, resting your legs in his lap seems to be enough.....at least for awhile.

💔 - What could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

There’s the obvious things like cheating on him or dumping him to date one of his brothers, but that would wind up producing more wrath than heartbreak. I mean, definitely “destroy the Devildom brick by brick” levels of wrath, but every time he thought about it, he’d have the anger to sustain him, rather than heartbreak.

What would truly break his heart is indifference.

If you just.....fell out of love. If you went back to the human realm and just kind of faded out of his life.

He already deals with the feeling that people don’t see him, just an extension of Lucifer. To be forgotten, like he wasn’t worth remembering or keeping.....

Or worse, if you stayed in the Devildom and the relationship just kind of evaporated, drop by drop.

The only person in millennia to understand him, to really listen to him, to understand his pain and his trauma. The only one to get how he’s built himself together through knowledge. The only person who can calm him down with a few words or a soft brush of fingers through his hair.

The idea that the person who gave him so many new emotions - love, peace, true enjoyment - could look in his eyes and feel nothing.....

I think his heart - the new heart that you gave him - would simply wither and die.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me satan #obey me headcanons #asked and answered #fluff #angst #obey me writing prompt #my fic

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holdmyowos · 3 years

Text

Your New Boyfriend (Shigaraki x Reader smut)

Shigaraki x Dom!Reader

Includes: gore, angst, cussing, watching p0rn, masturbation, oral

Author's note: I feel like Shigaraki's naturally a dom, but I like to think that he would be a sub because he really doesn't want to hurt you accidentally with his quirk. Also, I found the song, 'Your New Boyfriend' after writing this so I added bits.

"He's in your bed, I'm in your Twitch chat"

Your POV:

Your boyfriend had been too late to save you. The world was starting to go blurry. That damn hero had snapped both of your arms. Not a very heroic thing to do. They hung uselessly, blood trickling down all over. There was no way you would ever use them again. You stared up at the sky. A quirkless nobody like you never should have been in the league. The only reason you were was because All for One had saved you from the rubble of your house. You had no one else to turn to. You looked up at the stars. Wasn't it supposed to be daytime? You must be hallucinating. Hawks descended, the moon shining on his beautiful feathers, looking angelic, and scooped you very gently in his arms. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should have protected you." He nuzzles your head. You see the tears falling off of his cheeks. Your arms dangle. He takes a few deep shuddering breaths. "No! You can't die on me! Fuck!" Your vision dimmed and you fell limp in his arms.

"If I could change a single thing, I'd make it me and not him."

Shigaraki's POV:

The battle was over, and the League had finally won for once. Hawks had said that there was something I was supposed to see, and it was important. Usually, we never really talked, so it must actually be important. I ran after him, flying ahead of me. He swooped down next to an unmoving mass. "It's Y/N. They didn't make it." My jaw dropped. Y/N? How? They were the only one that didn't ever make fun of me. They were my reason to live. "Leave. Now. I'll take care of this," I harshly said to Hawks, making him flutter away, not wanting to defy me. I delicately raised them with a pinky in the air, putting my ear to their chest. There was a faint noise, but perhaps that was from somewhere else. "This can't be. You aren't dead." I stared at my hand in confusion. My hand was covered in blood. In the dark of the night, I had failed to realize that they must have been severely injured to make Hawks think they were dead. "Kurogiri!" I snapped. He appeared almost immediately. Upon looking at the person's body, he said, "My condolences. They meant a lot to you, right?" I said nothing. "Don't tell me that. They're not dead. Or... are... are they really gone?" My voice ended sounding almost like a whisper, hoping that it was not so. Kurogiri knelt down next to them, and took a pulse. "It's your lucky day, they're not quite dead yet." My heart fluttered. Hawks you dumbass bastard. Didn't even check for a pulse? "...like I said, yet. If they don't get severe medical treatment very soon, they'll bleed out. None of us have the expertise to fix wounds like this. Both of their arms appear to be broken in multiple places, I severely doubt that they'll live and-" I stood up. "Damn it, Kurogiri! Do what you have to to keep them alive. Anything." Kurogiri nodded, and teleported away, leaving me to scream at the sky.

"I thought when I get older, I'd marry her"

"A half Nomu? You're sure it can be done?" I stared up at the giant cylinder of blue liquid that was keeping them alive in it. Their arms had been amputated. The doctor nodded. As secretive as he was, the guy was totally loyal to All for One, and therefore loyal to me."All we have to do is fix the arms using the process we use for making the Nomu. It should work out perfectly." I nod. That would have to do, as it seemed to be the only way of them getting out of this unscathed. "Well, there could be a few side effects, but nothing too major." He said, ruining the moment. "Like what?" I snapped. "Well, there could be some mental side effects, such as body dysphoria. I mean, there is always the chance that it won't work at all, or that perhaps it works too well and the Nomu part takes over the rest of the body." I scratched my neck. The stress had given back my old habits. "But they'll still mentally be themself, right? I don't want them to end up just like another Nomu." He nodded. "Likely. Still, I'm not sure why you are going through such lengths for one of your minor lackeys. Unless you want to program them to be totally loyal to you or something. But the resources alone for a quirk less nobody-" I put my hands around his neck, making sure to not touch him with all my fingers. Program them? That had to be crossing a line. I took a few deep breaths trying to calm down, but it made it worse. It took all my self control to not disintegrate him for saying such a horrible thing about my love but I needed him to save them. I glanced up at their body, seemingly lifeless in the canister. I tightened my grip. "Never. Never ever talk about them like that. Unless you want to die here and now." I released him to let him go do his work.

After getting the call from the doctor that the treatment had worked, and the healing was done, I immediately had Kurogiri teleport me to see. They looked perfectly fine, their arms free of even scars and blemishes that were there earlier. Something still bothered me. "Why aren't they waking up?" The doctor backed away, no doubt fearful of me turning him into dust."They just need a little time. Take them back to the hideout, and they'll be fine." I did just that, sitting by the side of their bed. "I hope someday you'll realize how much I love you. Enough to bring you back from the dead."

"Your new boyfriend's an arsehole"

Your POV:

You woke up. Groggily, you opened your eyes. How could you have woken up? Weren't you supposed to be dead? You moved your arms. Totally unbroken. In fact, they felt strong. Seeing Shigaraki next to you, you said, "How did Hawks get me to the hospital in time? I thought I was a goner." He sneered. "Pfft. That hero saved you? Please. No. Sorry sweetheart, it was me. He thought you were deceased, and left you for dead. The dumbass should have checked for a pulse. Anyway, after your... boyfriend," he sneered. "...thought you were dead, he abandoned the cause, and revealed that he was a fucking secret agent for the heroes." You shook your head. "No way." He got up. "Whatever princess. Just happy you're fine." He left the room, gently shutting the door. Looking around after getting out of bed, only Kurogiri and Shigaraki were at the league's hideout. How could you be alive. Your arms were supposed to be broken. It was obvious that Shigaraki did not want to talk about it, so you went to his second in command. "Kurogiri, how did you guys get me not dead?" That was a dumb way of putting it. His pupilless eyes turned towards you. "I am programmed to not answer that question. Oh, keeping secrets, are we Shigaraki? There was always a way around, and you would find out. "Do you know how?" He nodded his head yes. "Ok then, what did you do yesterday that had to do with me?" That seemed to work. "I took you to the doctor's lab where he fixed you." He was silent for a moment, then added his two cent take on it, something he rarely ever did. "Shigaraki seemed really concerned for you, Y/N. He loves you. He saved your life. You are in his debt. You must repay him." His words sent chills down your spine. Kurogiri never talked like that. He was always monotonous, giving only the requested information. You backed away, creeped out.

"I just think that I deserve A little bit of what I earned"

You sat behind Shigaraki, on the couch behind his gamer chair. The game blared boss battle music. "Do you wish to fight me, mortal?" That was an odd phrase. Must be the end game boss or something. He kept muttering little things under his breath. It was kind of cute. He won the game after two tries. A smile was on his face. You hardly ever saw that. He started a new game when you sneezed. He turned around, startled. "Oh, Y/N. How are you? I didn't know you were there. How long have you been there, exactly?" Since Kurogiri had said Shigaraki was in love with you, that had to be true. Kurogiri always told the truth. Since Hawks had backstabbed the league, you were open for a new boyfriend, right? You surveyed him with new eyes. Even though he wasn't heather most handsome, with his chapped lips, he wasn't that bad either, his hair was fluffy sky blue color, and something about his eyes entranced you. "Hey, what's with that look? Are you okay?" He seemed concerned for your well-being. This relationship could work out. You shook your head as if clearing the thoughts out. "Fine, thanks." He looked away from you, back at the game. You went over the couch, making a few quieter footstep sounds to make him think you were out of the room, and ducked behind the couch, peering out at him. What did he do in his alone time? He glanced around to check that you had left, and popped a different game into the CD drive. This game was very different from what he had been playing before. Instead of his, shooting, taking-over-the-galaxy-type game, the intro screen had girls in bathing suits... and some without. He started the game up, and immediately a very lewd picture of a girl showed up. He played the dumb game for a bit. Really? The second you leave the room he goes to play that kind of game, and fuck with some cartoon girls? That was actually kind of cute. Did you make him that horny? "None of them are as good as Y/N. Fuck."

"When I'm only one click away from insane"

He drummed his fingers on the desk. Slowly, you heard the unzipping of his pants. This was wrong. You shouldn't be listening in on him. But you couldn't help it. He had a crush on you, and the feeling was mutual. He started making little sounds, no doubt masturabting. Too bad he was turned away from you. "Ugh! Yea, mmmm. Just like that you little slut. Take it real good." Now that was too much. You felt your own panties behind drenched at ugly of him saying such dirty words to you. You slowly crept up on him. Somehow, he must have realized that you were there, because in one deft motion he zipped his pants, turned off the monitor with the naked girls, and stepped in front of the screen as if covering it. He turned to face you, a hand against your throat. "Kinky," you said. Realizing who you were, his hand slowly relaxed from the tight grip he had, letting it fall off of you. He stood there for a second, unsure what to do, unsure of how long you were there.

"'Cause she's living the dream"

"Poor Tomura. Did I stop you from cumming? I know what you did for me, and I want to make it up to you." His scarlet eyes widened and you slowly pressed him back into his chair and straddled him, holding his wrists with your strong arms. "Don't deny it. I know you want this." He looked away, unable to look at you in the eyes. "Yea, sure whatever." His words didn't match his actions. You felt him growing against you, straining against the fabric. "Naughty boy, looking at others for pleasure. They aren't even real. They can't make you feel like I can." You gently pressed your lips against his, and he went along with it, moaning softly. You rolled your hips onto his, giving him a little friction. "Fuck," he muttered softly. You grabbed his hair and made the kiss deeper, his rough lips against yours. You stay like that for a while, content with tasting each other. He finally backed off. "Y/N, you don't know how much I craved you, how much I wanted this." "Oh, I haven't even done anything yet." You very slowly unzipped his pants, and he blushed furiously under you. When you were finally done, you revealed his underwear, soaked where his head met the fabric. You got down on your knees and licked him through the fabric, and he shuddered, digging his nails into the soft leather of the chair. You gently stroked the tip, then slid his pants and briefs down to reveal his cock, which twitched when you blew cold air on it. "I want you so badly. Please. Please." You took him into your hands and licked it a few times before shoving his length into your mouth. He became a sobbing mess beneath you, calling your name as you sucked him off. His words became a string of incoherent praises. You knew he was getting close, so you finished him off and he came onto your hand. After a couple of shuddering breaths, he returned to normal, yet his dick was still erect.

"Love isn't quite what I thought it'd be"

"Please, I want to taste you. Let me, please, let me eat you up," he begged. You took off your lower clothing, and he went onto the couch. You slowly descended onto him, and he spent no time waiting. He grabbed your hips, digging some of his broken fingernails in, making sure not to touch you with all his fingers. You let out a squeal of pain, but that did not stop him. He covered you with his mouth, his tongue making lewd sounds. You let out moans as he did it, and soon you were ready to cum. Surprisingly, he took it well and swallowed it all, still licking you as if a puppy, desperately wanting a last bit of milk from its mother. "You're so desperate, babe. Lighten up." You fluffed his hair, but he kept going. His eyes were half lidded. How was he enjoying this so much? "Dirty little bitch, you just love sucking me, don't you?" He just vibrated his lips against you, and shuddered. "You look like you're fucking possessed. Stop it." He just kept licking and sucking until you came another time, and he came with you.

"I've got the key, and he's just the doormat"

You got off of his face and he gasped for breath, clear and whitish liquids coming out of his mouth. "You make a cute ahegao face," you said, taking a pic. He swallowed, wiped off his mouth, and frowned. "Did you just take a picture?" He tried swiping your phone. "Uh, no?" You replied, keeping the phone out of his reach. You laughed, and whispered in his ear. "I'm keeping this for blackmail until I know we'll do this again." You kissed him on the cheek, and he leaned against you in an attempt to take your phone. You clicked the power button, so he'd have to guess your password before he could delete it. He growled, up in your face. "Fine then, let's go right now."

"Cause she moves on pretty bloody quick"

#bnha #bnhaxreader #bnha x reader #bnhasmut #bnha smut #shigaraki #shigaraki x y/n

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percybeloved · 3 years

Text

“So Good, puppy” Hajime Hinata x Male Reader

Note: Pretty happy with this one tbh. Unedited because editing is a bitch. Might edit it in the future though.

Word Count: 1813

Contains: NSFW content, lingerie, the petname “puppy”, rimming, riding, fingerfucking, handjob, photo shoot turned sex session, breeding kink, belly bulging

It was a nice day. Wasn't too cold, wasn't too warm. M/N L/N, the Ultimate Cupid, had woke up late and quickly got dressed. He had sometime to spare before he grabbed some dinner so he shook his head, trying to figure out how to spend his extra time. M/N decided to leave his cabin and go on a small stroll. Whilst on his walk, he went into deep thought. Mostly about his Ultimate and why he could never fall in love. Well, That wasn't ENTIRELY true. He was infatuated with one person. And that was Hajime Hinata. The way his eyes lit up during trials absolutely hypnotized him. The way he closed his eyes and scratched his cheek a little when he talked to M/N never failed to make him smile, even if its just a little bit.

"HEY, M/N!!!" M/N is quickly thrown out of his thoughts of his "lover" by no other than Kazuichi Souda. "Oh, Hey, Kaz" M/N said with a small smile accompanied by a nod. "What are you up to today?" the Ultimate Mechanic said with a toothy smile as he started to follow M/N. "Nothing Much! Just trying to kill time before dinner, heh" M/N continued to listen to Kazuichi's rambling as they walked around the beach. They both then heard a feminine voice call out for Kazuichi. "Oh, That must be Ibuki" he mumbled to himself, just loud enough for M/N to hear.

"Welp, Catch ya later, bud!" the pink haired boy said with another grin. M/N returned the gesture and waved as Kazuichi made his way to Ibuki's voice. M/N looked down at his watch and noticed that he still had about 2 hours to spare. "Maybe I should spend sometime with Usami..." He said to himself whilst pulling at his ear, a small habit he picked up from Mahiru. The red haired girl suddenly came to mind. "We did make plans to take pictures... well, specifically her teaching me " M/N mumbled as he started to walk towards her cabin. As he got closer to the door, he noticed Peko and Mikan walking together while chatting about something he couldn't hear. He called out for them and greeted them with a wave. Peko returned the gesture while Mikan just smiled bashfully back.

M/N knocked a few times before hearing voices behind the door. The door opened to reveal Mahiru holding her camera. "Heyo, L/N! Hinata is already here so let's get started!" She said. It almost looked as if there were stars in her eyes. M/N paused for a second. "Wait" he said in disbelief. "HAJIME? why is he here?" As if like a mother, Mahiru whipped around and started to scowl him. "L/N! I already explained to you I had a shoot with Hinata today!" She started, her finger pointed and directed towards M/N. "You said you were okay with helping me! Now come on! I don't have all day, L/N!" A small huff came from her before she walked further into the room. On the floor sat Hajime. He didn't even notice that M/N had came in.

He was absolutely stunning. Instead of the white button up and jeans he usually wore, it was replaced with a blue lacy two piece. The top was a bralette that showed most of his nipples, leaving little to the imagination. Trailing down to the bottoms, he wore a pair of matching laced panties that could barely contain his cock. His legs were covered by a white sheet, but you could still see the white and blue laced stockings that covered his thighs. M/N stared in awe, but the other male was too busy readjusting his stocking to even notice M/N's gaze. Mahiru's voice startled Hajime from his thoughts. "Can we just go along with the photoshoot?" she said in a bit of a excited voice. Hajime's eyes met M/N as Mahiru continued to ramble about how this shoot will be perfect. "You look amazing" M/N said in awe. Hajime, on the other hand, just looked away as he blushed.

He did speak though, but saying only "Why do I have to do this perverted photoshoot?" The question was directed towards Mahiru, who quickly said, "You're the perfect candidate! I rarely take pictures of males, Hinata" she chirped. His eyes met M/N's again, this time he mouthed "That was one hell of a answer" with a small chuckle. Wait. Is that lip gloss on his lips? M/N was starting to imagine very ungodly things. Mostly, Hajime wrapping his tiny mouth on his cock and swallowing his length whilst the lip gloss started to smear on his pretty face. Someone was getting excited... M/n turned to Mahiru and said, "Let's start!" with a enthusiastic smile. The longer Hajime stays like this, the longer he'll have this boner.

They had taken many pictures of Hajime in various positions. Mahiru showed M/N the parts of the camera as he tried not to come in his pants by just looking at him. Hajime would sway his hips a little everytime M/N looked at him. The {h/c} boy would look away while blushing. About 1/6 through the session, A light knock was heard on the door. Mahiru rushed to it and opened it. She looked at Akane with a warm smile. Apparently, Akane needed help with something but couldn't ask Nekomaru for he was way too busy doing whatever the hell he was doing. Mahiru quickly told Hajime and M/N that she'd be back in a hour or so and that she wanted them to finish up for her. As she left, fear filled the gut of M/N's stomach. He turned around and met the hungry eyes of Hajime.

"It was for you" he said while looking deep into M/N's eyes. "All of it. I was gonna tell Mahiru to send the pictures to you" "But why? Why me?" The {h/c} boy quickly said. "Everyone and their mother knows you're in love with me. Its obvious. I just wanted to treat you" He said with a smirk. He crawled over to the chair that M/N had sat down in. "But since you're here, I'll just treat you now" He reached up and grabbed a fistful of M/N's hair before pulling him down into a opened mouth kiss. Both of them sucked at each others tongues whilst in the kiss. "You taste amazing" M/N said as he kissed the side of Hajime's cheek. "Stand Up, love" Hajime scrambled to stand up, as he was still drunk from the kiss. "You're so pretty" he said to his now lover as he leaned in and kissed him again. He pulled back and whispered, "i want you to breed me, baby" M/N's fingers quickly danced over Hajime's body, groping at his still covered chest.

He placed open mouthed kisses on Hajime's stomach as he leaned over the boy. "Lets lie down, please." A voice quickly invaded his senses. He picked his brown haired lover up and gently laid him down on the sheets that were previously used as props for the shoot. He began to undress himself and gave Hajime a smiled before stripping down to his boxers. "Baby please" he started to whine "it hurts so much. Please touch me" M/N hurried to slot himself inbetween his lovers legs before running his hands up and down the body in front of him. "Ok, darling. Let me relieve the pain" he was met with happy and almost intoxicating giggles. He began to rub his lover through the small piece of lingerie that covered him. Dick already hard and standing proud, M/N started to get him off. Hajime's giggles turned into moans and groans as the {e/c} boy fisted his cock. "So good, puppy. Keep going"

M/N was taken back by the nickname but to hear it more. He stopped getting Hajime off and quickly put his fingers into his mouth. "Darling, I have to prepare you" He started moving his hand again as Hajime wetted his fingers. He slowly pulled them away and ceased all motion. He started at Hajime, who was blushing and covered in saliva and tears. He lowered himself down to meet the now almost soaked under wear the he wore. M/N bunched the fabric to the side to reveal a small, pink, twitching hole. He began to lap at it before inserting his tounge. Hajime released beautiful moans and groans at the sudden feeling. M/N inserted a wet finger into said hole. One turned into two and two turned into M/N's cock. "Wait" Hajime said, making M/N freeze as he was taking off his boxers that were doused in precum. "I wanna ride you baby" He said with a small smirk. "Please do" M/N said, his words trailing off and turning into a moan.

Hajime flipped them over and slowly lower himself on the thick cock underneath him. "M/N, You feel so good inside me" When he finally got settled, he started to move. "Let me jerk your cock, baby" M/N said as he began to get his lover off again. Hajime was rambling things along the lines of "so so good" and "let me cum" M/N already felt close but held his own orgasm untill the brown haired boy was finished fucking himself on his cock. "Such a good little puppy" Hajime moaned as he continued to bounce on M/N's cock. "Are you close? Please fill me with your cum, Please baby, please" This time he was crying. His moans, whimpers and cries drowned out M/N's groans. "Look, love. Your cock is so big, you can see it bulging out of me" He said with giggles. M/N looked down and the sight was almost murderous.

He came inside of Hajime, Right then and there, because of the sight. The feeling of being breeded made Hajime also come undone. He kept moving though, making both his and M/N's brains turn to mush. When he finally started to come to his senses, he saw a come covered M/N, and a ruined set of lingerie, but also came to the realization that they fucked on Mahiru's floor. "Fucking Hell" he muttered. "Hm?" his now sleepy lover said while trying to help clean the come off of him, using the silk white sheets. He gave him a smile and kissed him before saying, "Nothing, doll. Don't worry about it"

~~~

They quickly cleaned up, trying to erase any evidence that they had did anything they weren't suppose to. They also took this as a opportunity to go to Hajime's cabin and hold each other. "You don't understand how in love with you I am" M/N whispered as Hajime laid on his chest, already half way asleep. With a sleepy smile, the other boy replied with "I love you so much more"

#hajime hinata x male reader danganronpa goodbyedespair hajime x male reader x male reader hajime x reader

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mintsuke · 4 years

Text

Forelsket | 6 - No Part of It

Tsukishima Kei x f!Reader smau

Note: Someone should really dry their hair when leaving the showers instead of letting it drip all over the floor.

Disclaimer: I evidently don’t know the physics of falling so I apologize AHA. Also a little cliché I’m sorry.

A/N: I kept second guessing myself with this part, I rewrote the certain scene like five times before finally leaving it as is jfaslfal. Anyways... Thank you for the comments in the last part 🥺🥺 love love you all <3

Masterlist | Previous | Next

“Are you sure you don’t want to join in on extra practice? Bokuto won’t shut up about you.”

You sneak a glance at the spiky-haired male in question, waving when he brightens at your attention and is nearly jumping out of his shoes on the other side of the net. His dark haired setter is sighing and trying to calm him down with no avail.

“He saw me dig and spike a ball once and now he wants to fight me any chance he gets,” you sigh at Kuroo as you hand him a towel and a water bottle, “I’m okay, I swear.”

He smiles in thanks, patting his forehead before taking a generous swig of the bottle you had refilled beforehand. The tall middle blocker pouts and you make a face in disgust at his attempt at being cute. “It’s the last night of the training camp, come on!”

“Nope!” You say with finality as you walk away to collect the empty bottles from the other boys.

Yaku slaps his hand over the boy’s back and snickers, “I like her even more now!”

Instead of responding, Kuroo frowns more seriously to his and Nobuyuki’s surprise. Hazel eyes watch in concern as you chat with the other team members, before he shakes his head and turns away.

He really only wanted to take your mind off things for a bit, especially when the persistent asshole was blowing up your phone whenever he could. There would always be lingering feelings, and he knew just telling you to block him off was a hard feat. He didn’t want to see you hurt all over again.

“So I heard from Yachi that Kuroo-san doesn’t even have a girlfriend.”

Tsukishima casts his friend a weird look. Why was that relevant right now? Did he even want to pry into that annoying rooster head’s love life? No. Not really.

“And?”

“I wonder what that picture was about then,” Yamaguchi ponders without falter, ignoring the slight snap in his friend’s tone, “Ahh they even looked cute together during the camp, love really is dead.” The shorter makes a mock teary frown, feigning a hand pressing into his temple.

Without trying, Tsukishima can feel the irritation building up, his brow twitching at the continued talk of romance. He just couldn’t get away from it, could he?

“Glad you’ve finally realized it,” the blonde agrees monotonously.

The shorter slumps at the former’s curt response, although expecting it nonetheless. “Come on Tsukki, you don’t think about having a girlfriend to cook for you and dote on you?” The thought makes the boy smile dreamily; receiving bento from her and going on cute dates, the thoughts make his freckled cheeks blossom.

Tsukishima scoffs.

“Sounds like a mother, I evidently already have one.”

At that, Yamaguchi pouts, shoulders sagging slightly, “Tsukki...”

“I don’t need any of that,” He retorts with a frown, “Just stop talking to me about those stuff. I’m serious. The idiots won’t shut up about it, I don’t need you pestering me as well.”

The boy zips his mouth shut, frowning at his friend as the two neared the stairwell. It was more notably quiet between the two now, Tsukishima still annoyed over constantly being pestered about dating and such.

He didn’t understand. What was the point of dating? Why waste your time and emotions on a person that was bound to hurt you in the end? Why let yourself be so vulnerable, making it easier for them to manipulate and hurt you? If it was going to be like that, he wanted no part of it.

Moreover, how could those girls even claim to like him? They’ve never talked to him before. He didn’t even know they existed. So how could they even develop those kind of silly feelings?

Stupid, he thinks harshly as they take a sharp turn towards the stairs, his expression twisted into a taut frown. Delusional.

He hadn’t been paying attention until his foot slipped out from under him at a particularly wet spot on one of the steps, sending him falling down the stairs. The world goes turning as his back and elbow land on the hard stairs while his body is still falling down quickly.

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi gasps as the person at the foot of the stairs gets knocked over in result, much like a bowling pin.

You had been heading towards the second floor after finishing cleaning the cafeteria. Staring at your phone, the screen bright and illuminating the dark of the hallway, you glared down at the constant phone calls and incessant text messages from your ex.

Fear and hurt filled your chest. This was exactly why you needed this summer break to recuperate. Kuroo, however, was right, you were safer here, where he and Kenma can watch you. Chances are, he would’ve continued to stalk you or wait around your home, and that scared you.

Being around boys was still taxing, and you really needed some much needed distance from the male gender. After two years of what used to be love and warmth, that had very quickly become manipulative and cold, maybe love just wasn’t for you. If relationships were going to be like that, you wanted no part of it.

Maybe I should just block him, you think anxiously as you let another call get sent to voicemail. You refused to listen to any of the voicemails he left, his chilling and authoritative voice would have done anything and everything to coax you into running back with your tail between your legs. He knew how to make you bend, and perhaps that’s why you still hesitate to block him out entirely.

Two long years.

Trust me (F/n), you can’t live without me. You need me. Stop being selfish. I’ll get angry. You apparently like making me angry, I guess.

You shake your head as you rise up the staircase, turning the corner to head up the second half of the flight of stairs.

Kuroo had mentioned dating someone else to take your mind off of him but that just wasn’t possible. Love was just not it for you apparently.

You sigh before you hear the call of a name, and a shout to get out of the way stupid, but you have yet to register who or what as a body collides with you and your legs are swiped from under your weight. It sends you falling forward as a result. Your eyes widen in shock as you reach out wildly to smack your palms onto the first few steps to stop from potentially slamming your face into the stairs.

Toppled in a heap of limbs, one body over the other, at the foot of the stairs, you both wince at the peculiar jolt of electricity that crackles between the two of you, your lips pressed firmly over his.

Wait. What? You blink in a mild haze at the rush of events.

Blinking slowly, your mind barely catches up to the sudden lack of distance between your face and this stranger. The two of you have yet to fully register the connection between your lips before you both stiffen and pull away instantly in a fit of flustered blushes and looking away out of sheer embarrassment.

“Oh my God! Tsukki!” Yamaguchi exclaims, bounding down to you both, face fallen in fear for his dear friend.

The blonde sits up with a wince, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, noting the ache in his backside from falling down the stairs like a landslide.

“Shut up, I’m fine.”

He glances down at you on his lap, raising an eyebrow as you blink up at him in shock.

“Hey, if you’re okay, then get up already, will you?”

The realization doesn’t seem to settle right away, before your eyes widen momentarily as you scramble off.

“S-sorry!” You stammer, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Wow, he was really pretty. Blonde hair and honey colored eyes under glasses? A recipe for any girl’s undoing.

“Whatever, if you paid attention, you could’ve avoided this dumbass.”

Ah.

Nevermind.

“Sorry...” you say again, although slightly irked by his snide remark. Why was he being rude? It was an accident, was it not? He was the one who collided with you, was he not?!

“Stop staying sorry, stupid, can you not listen?” He snaps back, just as irritably.

“Okay... sorry,” You say out of habit, and he gazes back at you in mild annoyance and confusion.

He scoffs, saying nothing else as he stands. You were almost expecting too much as he doesn’t move to offer you a hand. His friend, however, scrambles to help you up.

“I’m sorry for him, are you okay?” he asks quickly, eyes checking everywhere for any visible discomfort from the fall, “Ah! You’re Nekoma’s manager!”

You wave your hand in dismissal, “Don’t worry about it, he must be having a rough day, huh? Also, yes, I’m only a temp though, because Tetsu wouldn’t stop pestering me.”

Tsukishima glares back at you, “I wasn’t the airhead who couldn’t understand get out of the way when told.”

“Maybe you should watch out where you walk from now on?” You retort, completely tired of his attitude, “Aren’t you a first year too? Maybe you should learn some manners as well when talking to your elders.” The dark haired boy covers his mouth to hide the small snort at your tenacity. Not many girls, or at all, fight back against Tsukishima’s foul mouth. The only girls he ever treats tolerably is Shimizu and Yachi, given that they are the team’s managers.

“Hah?” he exclaims back, equally as surprised as his friend, but less amused as he meets your glare.

His mouth opens to insult you when your phone, having also met the fate of suddenly being knocked over, rings obnoxiously. You find it had clattered on the floor from the sudden impact, with thankfully just a small scratch on the screen protector. Thank you phone cases, you inwardly thought as you picked up the vibrating device.

You half expect it to be him again, when you see “Tetsu” light up your screen. A small smile graces your lips, a stark contrast from the annoyed frown from just moments earlier.

“Well, excuse me, sorry once again.”

The expression makes the blonde perk slightly, eyes widening for a fraction of a second as you bow slightly to the two and take your leave up the stairs.

When your footsteps fade away, Yamaguchi lets out a huge sigh and feels his shoulders deflate. “Ah Tsukki... you didn’t need to be so mean,” he says as they resume their trek down the stairs, “She was kinda cute, don’t you think?”

“I think you mean kinda dumb,” He mumbles, looking away to hide the way his ears tinge a shade of pink. You were cute, but he wasn’t about to admit that out loud. You were so soft, and that smile, it makes his chest hurt. He can still smell the lingering scent of your shampoo. The lingering feel of your shared kiss.

Closing his eyes briefly, he willed away those foolish thoughts.

Biting his lip, he wondered what that electrifying sensation was. Static? Maybe. He wasn’t sure. Was kissing normally supposed to feel like that?

Shaking his head, there was no thinking too hard about it or you. Just as you explained that you were only a temporary manager, there was a high chance he’d never have to butt heads with you again.

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Steve//can’t make it all alone

hey! oof, third part already. and happy 2nd christmas! i hope all of you had a wonderful day yesterday!!! and i hope you’re all having another lovely day today! stay safe everyone!

“So, do you want me to drop you off at home?” Officer Powell asks.

Christmas is officially over, but for Steve it was over as soon as you walked away. He watches the sun rise over another day...another day that you’re still out there somewhere.

Another day wasted.

While Steve was sat in a dingy room, with cream walls and ageing furniture, being asked the same three questions over and over again, he hoped his friends were out looking for you.

But when nobody interrupted the little chat he was having to let him know you’d been found, he slowly lost hope, until there was just a hole where his heart used to be.

You’re somewhere out there by yourself, instead of lying beside him in bed, already reminiscing about the previous day and ignoring calls from your parents to get up.

“Can you just take me to The Wheelers?” He mumbles, staring down at his hands. His finger nails have been chewed down to as short as they can. It’s a habit Steve picked up from you.

You’ve always been a nail biter when nervous, and Steve tried everything to get you to stop, he even learnt how to paint nails so he could do yours in the hopes it would stop you from chewing. It was also just an excuse to spend more time with you, even if it meant he had to listen to Robin complaining about being used for practice.

But instead of stopping you from ruining your nails, he ended up developing the same coping mechanism as you did. Now he’s surprised there’s any finger left at all.

“The Wheelers?” Powell asks surprised and glances at Steve through the mirror. He doesn’t bother to look back at him, but he can feel his eyes on him and he knows for a fact as soon as he gets back to the station he’s going to tell everyone that’ll listen.

“Yeah.” He nods and leans his head against the cold glass, his eyes scan the houses as they pass, hoping he’ll catch a glimpse of you. A clue as to where you’ve gone, where you’re hiding.

You’ll be standing outside The Wheelers, in your bright red jumper with your arms crossed and an annoyed expression on your face, but you’ll be safe and alive and that’s all he wants. He doesn’t care how upset you are with him, he just wants you back.

Instead he just see’s people twitching their curtains and spending far too long putting the bins out, in order to see what’s happening. News of a missing girl travels fast around town, especially because of its history, and by now, everyone will know about you and you’re broken necklace.

He knew coming back to Hawkins would end in disaster at some point. He always thought of it as taunting it, like he was saying ‘we’re back but you can’t get to us’, well now it has, whatever it is, and he hates himself for letting it happen to you.

He doesn’t know what’s scarier though, if it’s something thats crawled out of the Upside Down, or if it isn’t. There’s every possibility that an actual person could have taken you too, and neither of those options fill him with hope.

The first person he see’s when they pull into the drive is Joyce, stood outside with a cigarette in her hand while she paces. She lifts her head up at at the sound of car and quickly drops it.

He’s only seen Joyce once since he’s been back, and that was before everything went to shit. He remembers Dustin telling him over the phone, that Will and El were coming back home to spend Christmas with everyone. And that because of Nancy and Jonathan, The Wheelers had told Joyce, Will and El they could stay with them over Christmas.

The months leading up to Christmas, everyone was so excited, you included. The whole gang was going to be back together, even if it was just for a week. And he remembers how happy you looked when he told you, you didn’t stop talking about how perfect the week was going to be.

You couldn’t wait to tell them the good news going on in yours and Steve’s lives, but now within a night it’s all been snatched away. Instead of celebrating, Steve feels like he’s mourning, despite you not being dead.

“Here you go.” Powell says and Steve forces a small smile while opening the door. “Don’t go too far.” He warns and Steve looks away, slipping the car.

Joyce pulls him into a tight hug and he feels himself breathe a little. She smells like cigarette smoke and lavender and it fills him with the tiniest bit of comfort, but the way she’s hugging him, like she’s holding something back, rips it away almost as quickly as he feels it.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” She asks and looks him over. “Of course you’re not. Come on, we need to tell you something.” She says and guides him into the house and down into the basement.

He passes Karen and Ted, both of whom are busy doing who knows what. Karen is sat at the kitchen island, sorting through a stack of papers, her hair is messy and Steve thinks its the first time he’s seen her in her pyjamas. Ted stands on the other side of the room, talking quietly into the phone. He looks just as stressed as his wife, but they both stop what they’re doing when they hear footsteps and force a smile at Steve.

“I’ll bring you down some food sweetie.” Karen is the first to break the tension and he gives her a grateful, yet crooked smile.

“Thank you.” He mumbles and looks back at the floor. Karen and Joyce share a look before Joyce continues to guide him down the stairs.

The last time he came down the stairs, his head was too full to actually take anything in. Now though, it feels too busy and empty all at the same time, and so he takes a minute to actually look around.

The basement hasn’t changed since Mike moved out. Old toys are still strewn about, Dungeons and Dragons sit open in the corner, now with about twelve other things piled on top of it, but it’s still there.

It feels like he’s walking into a piece of history, frozen in time. The sleeping bags and blankets have been rolled up and thrown in the other corner of the room, and any traces of alcohol from Christmas Eve have disappeared.

The whole party is crammed into the space. Chairs have been stollen from upstairs so everyone has a place to sit, but as soon as they hear floorboards creaking they’re all standing up.

Nobody knows what or how they’re going to say it.

They thought they were done fighting monsters and losing loved ones. But it seems no matter how far they run, it always follows. Maybe its their own fault for coming back. They thought Starcourt was the final battle, but this seems like some sort of hidden ending and they’re hating every single second of it.

“Steve.” Robin starts gently and everyone, including herself hates it. Robin never speaks to Steve like that, she never even calls him Steve. It’s always dingus or some variant of it.

But the tone in her voice and the look on her face makes everyone realize just how bad this is.

“Sit down.” She says and tries guide him to the chair closest.

“I’m fine.” He shrugs her hands off him. “Have you found her?” He asks, his voice rising with each word and they look at each other.

“No, we haven’t.” Mike continues and takes step towards him. “We went out looking, and well...”

“We found goo on a tree near where her necklace was found.” Dustin sighs.

“Goo?” Steve asks, staring straight at him.

“A portal.” Jonathan says and even he’s unsure of how to say it nicely.

“To the Upside Down.” Eleven pipes up. It’s the first time she’s spoken to anyone since Steve, Robin and Annie turned up this morning. “She’s there, I can feel it.”

Everyone looks at her, their worst fears being confirmed and Steve feels the air being ripped out of his lungs.

“Are you sure?” He asks, the question surprising himself and El nods slowly.

For four years she’s worked on getting her powers back, but she’s never longed for them more than she does right now. You may not have been in her life for very long, but you certainly made an impression on her, and you’re always there when she needs you.

She can’t see you, but she knows you’re there. She can feel it and she’s never been more certain about anything. But she can also feel something else, she can’t quite place it, but something is wrong. Something isn’t quite right about you disappearing.

“Yes.” She says, louder than before and he sits down and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay.” He nods slowly and looks around. “Lets go.” He stands and starts towards the stairs.

Everyone moves at the same time, all of them not wanting him to do something stupid.

“Woah!” Dustin grabs his arm and pulls him back. Robin blocks the stairs and he gives her a look she’s never seen before. His eyes narrow and darken and his jaw clenches as he stares at her.

“Move out my way Robin.” He mutters.

“No.” She replies and crosses her arms. Annie stands beside her, also crossing her arms and they give him the ‘steve’ look making him huff in annoyance.

“Move.” He says once again forcing it through gritted teeth before trying to push past her, but she stands her ground, and suddenly he feels himself being pulled away from her.

Dustin and Mike hold his arms tightly and he quickly pushes them away. He knows they’re trying to help, but he knows where you are and it’s like they’re trying to keep him from saving you.

He also hates the way they’re looking at him, at least with Robin, it’s a look he’s used to seeing. But everybody else’s is new. It’s all sympathy and pity and he doesn’t like it. It makes him feel like they know something he doesn’t, like you’re gone forever and he’s doesn’t know yet.

“Steve.” Joyce says sternly. She holds his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “If you go in there with nothing, you’re not going to come out again, and then what?”

He knows she’s right, but it does little to comfort him.

“So what? We just sit around and wait for he to get out herself or to just die.” He snaps back but it doesn’t seem to bother her.

“No.” She shakes her head. “We figure out what it wants. We go in prepared and we get her out.”

“But-She’s in there alone.” He cries and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him into another tight hug.

The group exchange glances, none of them know what to do. How do you comfort a friend who’s girlfriend of 4 years has been dragged into an alternate dimension that creatures pulled from hell call home.

It’s also the first time they’ve seen Steve cry, some of them ever, and its a weird sight. They all have a silent conversation, trying to get somebody to say something useful, but its no use, Steve’s sobs echo off the walls while everyone stands around awkwardly.

The top step creaks but Steve doesn’t seem to notice, Nancy shakes her head at her mom standing by the door with a plate full of food, and she nods before quietly leaving again.

“I’ve been in there, and it’s not that bad.” Will pipes up and everyone stares at him, eyebrows raised. “Okay, maybe it is that bad.” He sighs, and sits down. “But, think about it, I was only a kid when I was there and I’m fine.”

“Debatable.” Dustin mumbles and everyone glares at him.

“Shut up.” Max slaps the back of his head.

“Would you like me to tell your mom what really happened to Mews.” Will retorts, and Dustin pauses rubbing his head to stare at him.

“You wouldn’t.” He narrows his eyes at his friend.

“I would.”

“Guys.” Lucas interrupts and stares at each of them. “Not the time.”

“Yeah, get to the point.” Mike adds annoyed.

“My point is.” Will continues, making sure to glare at Dustin before looking at Steve. “I came out of there alive, and I was just a kid. Y/n, is a grown woman, who’s dealt with much worse. She’ll be fine.”

“She’s probably made whatever took her, her bitch by now.” Lucas says and forces a laugh. “You saw how she took down that demodog that was trying to make Steve it’s lunch.” He adds, and for the first time in three days Steve feels himself smile.

It’s a nice break in the tension, the entire group sharing a smile and laugh as they think of you. The story is famous in your group, even Joyce knows it.

You saved Steve’s life without knowing what was happening. And how when you’d finished beating the crap out of it, you called it a bitch and then apologized.

“Yeah, she’ll going around smashing the place up and then saying sorry afterwards.” Robin says, placing a hand on his shoulder and he feels himself relax a little.

The little moment of joy is soon gone though. Every single one of them have the same thought.

What if that’s a story no longer told with happiness. What if it’s told out of grief, as they stand around a casket all dressed in black, clinging on to the memories of a life that should have been way longer.

A very, very short life.

Steve clears his throat and moves away from Joyce.

“Okay, what do we know?” He asks, looking at each of them individually. He doesn’t want to think about what’s happened to you, what could be happening to you an-

So does the only thing he knows how to. He gets ready to fight.

“We know that something must have happened in order for it to wake back up again.” Joyce replies and gives him a reassuring smile.

“Why wake back up? Why not just come back?” Max asks.

“Because how can it come back after Starcourt.” Will replies. “We blew the whole mall up. Whatever took Y/n must have been hiding and healing. I’ve been there, I know what it’s like.”

“Okay. So something disturbed it?” Mike asks. “What though?”

“Us?” Nancy asks. “No.”She shakes her head, answering her own question. “We’ve been here countless of times, so what’s so different this time?”

“Y/-” Steve starts but Jonathan interrupts him, and he feels himself shrink. Maybe its a good thing he didn’t tell them, it just doesn’t feel right without you.

“Nothing has happened here in years.” He says. “Or maybe it has, and we just haven’t noticed.”

“My mom says the only difference is the weather.” Mike shrugs.

“Yeah, my mom says the same thing.” Dustin agrees and Steve sends him a confused look.

“What do you mean the weather?” Annie asks.

She’s still piecing together the story that Robin and the rest of the gang told her while Steve was at the police station. The words Upside Down and mind-flayer keep coming up, and don’t get her started on El and her lost powers. That’s something she’s locked in a box for future her to deal with.

“Really? Out of everything I’ve told you, you’re confused about the weather?” Robin teases, and she rolls her eyes at her.

“Shut up.” She nudges her ribs gently. “Has anyone else’s parents noticed a change in the weather?” She asks and slowly, everyone nods their head.

“It does seem a bit windier.” Joyce says. “I’ve lived here my whole life, I know what winter is like here, but this time...its different.”

“Could that not be because you moved though?” Dustin asks.

“No. I know this town like the back of my hand. Something’s off.”

“Listen.” Steve snaps. They’re getting absolutely no where with this conversation and he knows it. “I don’t care about the wind or the rain or the snow. I don’t care what’s taken her and why. I just want to get her back.” The effects of not sleeping for 48 hours seem to be catching up with him. Tiredness hits him like a truck and he feels it settle in his bones.

“Steve.” Robin starts.

“What?” He mumbles annoyed.

“Why don’t you go to sleep.” She suggests gently but he just glares at her. “Or have something to eat.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “The quicker we come up with a plan, the quicker we can get her back.”

“True.” Robin starts. “But we don’t know how long it’s going to take. And you’re going to be no help if you’re falling asleep and starving.” She finishes and he hates that she’s right. But the need to save you far outweighs the need to eat or sleep. He’d go for years without if it meant getting you back.

‘its all your fault’ The little voice says again and with each day it grows louder, Steve sometimes feels like its the only thing he can hear.

It is his fault. It’s all his fault, and whether you do come back or not, he’s going to carry this guilt around with him for the rest of his life.

“Please Steve.” She says, she’s clearly worried, not only about the friend that’s missing, but the one sat right in front of her.

“Have some rest and while you’re asleep we’ll keep planning.” Annie finishes and places a hand on Robin’s arm.

“We’ll even go out looking again.” Mike says.

“We’re not going to give up just because you’ve fallen asleep.” Dustin smiles. “We promise. We love Y/n, just as much as you do.” He thinks about it for a few minutes, before finally agreeing.

“I’ll eat, but I’m not sleeping.” He says and everyone lets out a collective sigh of relief.

“Okay.” Joyce nods, her motherly instincts kicking in again. “Why don’t you go sit over on that sofa, and I’ll get you some food.” She smiles kindly and he nods, before pushing himself up and towards the sofa.

Everyone moves around him. Joyce goes upstairs, and is quickly followed by Mike and Jonathan.

Dustin, Lucas, Max and Will huddle in a circle, dragging their chairs with them and Steve listens to their quiet mumbles about the upside down and the mind flayer.

Nancy, Robin and Annie stay by the staircase, he know’s they’re hanging around just in case he tries to make a run for it, and their not to subtle glances at him don’t make it any less obvious.

And El sits alone in the corner closest to Steve. She stares at a picture of you smiling along with the rest of the gang and Steve’s heart aches at the sight. Everyone is grinning at who he assumes is Joyce, and Steve stands beside you, his arm slung over your shoulder, his smile as bright as yours.

Steve watches her close her eyes as she desperately tries to find where you are. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to focus. It’s been four years since she lost her powers, they’re not going to miraculously come back.

He can feel the fatigue settling even deeper into his bones making him feel heavier than he already does. But every time he closes his eyes, all he can picture is you, scared and alone and calling out for him.

Upstairs, he can hear Joyce and Karen talking quietly as they walk around the kitchen and every so often he hears Jonathan and Mike join in.

Steve just sits.

He sits and stares straight ahead, imagining the worst.

You could be dead, or dying, or even worse you could not be you anymore. You could have turned into whatever Billy was. That thought alone is enough for him to loose his breath and he chokes on a sob, his head falls into his hands as he quietly cries.

He’s never going to see you again.

Tears stream down his face and stain his jeans, but he doesn’t bother to wipe them away, what’s the point. He’s been wearing the same clothes since Christmas Eve, they already smell like the stale coffee thanks to the police station, so what’s a few tears? And it’s not like he hasn’t had worse on his clothes, blood and puke come to mind.

“Steve?” Nancy’s voice is quiet as she sits next to him.

Robin and Annie have moved to sit with the kids to talk about what to do. And Nancy was going to join them, but as soon as she looked at Steve, she decided she could try and be helpful elsewhere.

You would never forgive her if she let something happen to him while you were gone. After the events of 1984, you and Nancy became rather close, despite what had happened between her and Steve. All of you knew what had happened between them, however painful, was in the past.

Or at least that’s what she thought. Of course she knows Steve feels nothing for her other than a platonic love, but it must have hurt to be called the name of his ex. Especially when everyone knows how messily that ended.

Nancy can’t help but share some guilt with Steve. It was her name that caused you to storm off in the first place, and even though she knows she can’t go back in time and un-do everything, she really wishes she could.

She hands him a warm mug of coffee and he takes it but doesn’t look at her, he just stares at the brown liquid and feels himself sink deeper into his thoughts. He didn’t even notice her leaving to get one, too wrapped up in his own guilt and depressing thoughts.

“She’ll be okay.” She tries her best to comfort him but he just scoffs at her and takes sip.

“How do you know that? She’s in there, with god knows what running around.” He seethes. “And what are we doing? We’re sat around drinking coffee and talking about our feelings.”

“We’re not talking about or feelings Steve.” She sighs and watches Dustin draw on an old map.

“I know, but I know you’re going to talk about yours.”

“I’ll let that pass under the circumstances.” She rolls her eyes. “But when Y/n comes back...and she will come back. I will kick your ass.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He replies and a small smile twitches at the corner of his lips. She feels the weight in her chest lighten a little, but his only gets heavier.

He shouldn’t be sat here laughing with his ex girlfriend, while his current one is lost out there.

‘its all your fault. she wouldn’t be in there if it wasn’t for you’

“Do you think it’s my fault?” He asks and everyone pauses what they’re doing.

“No.” Nancy shakes her head and forces a smile.

“It’s not your fault Steve. You didn’t ask for her to be taken did you?” Robin asks.

“Well no, bu-”

“And did you tell her to go in there?” Dustin interrupts.

“No, but I-”

“And did you know what would happen to her before having that argument?” Jonathan adds while walking down the stairs. It’s the first time in what feels like a long time he’s said something remotely nice to him, and it does make him feel a little better.

“No.”

“Well then it’s not your fault.” He finishes and hands him a plate of food.

“Thanks.” He mumbles and stares down at the very late Christmas dinner.

This isn’t how he imagined he’d be eating his Christmas dinner this year, he imagined you beside him. Both of you in matching jumpers and paper crowns, telling each other stupid jokes out of crackers that no one but the two of you find funny.

“I miss her.” Robin says out of no where and everyone looks at her. Steve watches in shock as her lip wobbles and tears form in her eyes, he’s never seen Robin cry before, and when you come back, he’s so going to tell you that you made The Robin Buckley cry.

“Me too.” Dustin nods, giving her half a hug. Annie sits on the other side of her and leans her head on her shoulder.

“Yeah. Me too.” Everyone else agrees, sad smiles taking over their appearances.

“What am I going to do without her?” Steve sighs and places the plate on the floor.

“You’re not going to have to do without her.” Jonathan replies.

“And, I think you’re doing pretty well right now.” Robin adds and he lets out a bitter laugh. “Okay, maybe you’re doing okay then. But that’s still better most.” She finishes, sending him a toothy grin and a small smile flickers on his lips.

“Thanks.” He rolls his eyes.

“No problem.” She replies. “Now eat your food.” She adds, giving him a stern look.

“I will in a minute.” He slumps down in the sofa, his back hits the soft furniture and he lets out a sigh. Everyone goes back to talking quietly amongst themselves, although this time, they’re talking about you and he feels himself smile. It’s both happy and sad, but it’s real, and thats all that matters to him.

His eyes flutter shut as he hears Will come down the stairs, and the last thing he hears before he falls asleep is Robin...

“Okay, what do we do?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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mikkomacko · 4 years

Text

The Adventures of Harry and Penny

~~~~~

This is a series of fluffy moments between Harry and his family, particularly during quarantine in California. I thought it'd be nice to have a fun little mini series going on in the chaoticness of our lives. I hope you enjoy!

Their home in Los Angeles hasn't been lived in in quite some time. Of course it's still set up the way Harry designed and decorated it all those years ago when he was enjoying living on the coast. The mansion still housed him a few times out of the year, being his go to sanctuary when his first tour finished up. Of course he'd been itching to leave, only staying the few days he needed to in order to conclude the Live On Tour era before he was jetting off back to London to be with his wife and their newborn, so he didn't really clean up or take care of the house like he normally would've if he hadn't been in such a rush.

He didn't go back for awhile after that, choosing to hide out with his girls in their main home. Him and y/n had kept the pregnancy a secret, as well as the birth, so he couldn't exactly take the baby across the world with him whenever he was having some separation anxiety. For months he kept the trips to LA to a minimum, until they'd agreed it was time to share Penelope Styles with the world. The rush that hit them after announcing the baby also kept him out of LA, not wanting Penelope to be bombarded.

In fact, the first time she stayed in the house in America was for Fine Line Live at the Forum, but again it was a brief stay. Him and y/n wanted their daughter to have a stable home, to grow up as normally as possible with the last name that turns heads on every corner of the planet, so they'd gone back to England as soon as possible.

The second time Penelope's taken into the old home is completely unplanned and not exactly welcome. Harry just needed to visit for a few days, get some things regarding the new tour and promo settled, and he'd sworn all over his future grave that he'd be back home safe and sound just in time for the UK to go into quarantine. Luckily, y/n has a gift for sensing bad luck, and she ignored his arguing and grumbling as she packed a bag for Penelope and herself, leaving a key in the hideaway spot in case Gemma needed to come check on the house for them. "Don't know when we'll be back." She told Harry breezily, even though it pissed him off. Did she really not trust him?

She usually did, but he was glad she hadn't this time, otherwise he'd be holed up in their California home by himself while his girls were tucked away together in London. Glad as he was that y/n took matters into her own hands and hijacked his trip to LA, he still grimaces as he enters the plain old house, nose itching at the dust and eyes fighting to adjust to the darkness.

"Ew daddy," Penelope mumbles, turning her head into his shoulder to peek back at her mumma. Y/n pushes around Harry, her own nose twitching in the must, but she still starts pulling back curtains and tugging open windows.

"Don't worry petal," Harry promises, bouncing the almost two year old on his hip, "daddy will make it feel like home huh?"

Penelope looks at him apprehensively, watching her mumma move around to make the living room easy to live in while her daddy just stands there. "Don't think so."

Y/n giggles at that, making Harry scoff. He'll certainly do the best he can.

The coffee pot drips, the bedroom fan upstairs whirls, and Penny smacks on her oatmeal in Harry's ear as he attempts to video chat his mother. He's trying to be quite for the sake of his wife, wanting her to have a nice sleep in, but with the way the toddler in his lap is loudly chatting with her Nana, Harry has a feeling she'll be down any moment.

"So you're enjoying it then? Being in LA?" Anne asks, sipping out of her favorite tea mug. It's a little porcelain white one, molding into two black cat ears at the rim with whiskers and a pink nose painted on the side, leading to the tail shaped handle that has meow engraved on it. It was a Christmas gift y/n picked out back when they'd just started dating, and while Harry found it a bit tacky and insisted he wasn't putting it in the goody box they were gifting her, y/n snuck it in. Again, she knew better than him because his mum fell in love with it immediately.

"Yeah, weather's warmer here so we're having a blast in the backyard aren't we sweetheart?" He bounces his knee, catching Penelope's attention. Of course she's been listening to her daddy speak all along, and she doesn't hesitate to mumble her agreement.

"That's nice," Anne hums, "s'been a bit warm here lately too. Enjoy coming out to the garden with my babies."

Harry refrains from rolling his eyes, but not the amused curl of his lips. "They're cats mum, not babies."

She scoffs, mug clanking as she sets it on the outdoor table stationed in the garden she loves oh so much. One of the cats, a new one with deep orange fur leaps up onto her lap. "Oh hush Harry, you're hurting their feelings!"

"Rusty," Penelope calls, and the cats ears twitch. How his baby knows the name of this cat is beyond him but he assumes y/n must have told her after Anne undoubtedly tweeted about the little feline.

"That's right darling, you know Rusty." Anne coos encouragingly, and Penelope preens under the attention just like Rusty preens under Anne's scratching fingers.

"Mumma know Rusty," Penelope says like a matter of fact, wiggling around in Harry's lap so she's facing his chest. He fishes the dish towel off the counter, wiping her mouth clean. Huffing, he tosses it over his shoulder towards the laundry room, feeling guilty that y/n just managed to wash all the linen in the house and they've already dirtied it up. He'll just wash it himself, that way she can relax.

"Speaking of, where's my daughter?"

Harry still smiles at the name, proud of the reminder that his mother loves her so much, even though she's been called that long before the two we're even engaged. "Still sleeping. House was a bloody mess when we got here, kept this one busy-" he pats at Penelope's bum "while she managed to make it habitable."

Penelope lays her head on his bare chest, forehead nudging the cross necklace that rests in the light dusting of chest hair he's got growing. "Habible?" She huffs confused, and both Harry and Anne chuckle fondly.

"Means we can live here comfortably now, yeah?" He explains, peaking down at her. "Nice warm bed with clean blankets, lots of food, little play area for ya?"

"Oh," she nods.

"You really should take better care of that place Harry." Anne informs him, tone bordering on scolding. "At least send someone to keep up with it or rent it out. Does no good just sitting there."

"Just what I need, some stranger paying to stay in my house."

"You know what I mean." Anne replies breezily. "S'not nice to have your wife cleaning up after you two every minute of every day. She's only got one child you know, and it's the little one drooling on you."

Harry bites back his smirk. "What's that saying? A boyfriend's like a first child?"

Unimpressed, she sips her tea. "You're her husband, not her boyfriend."

"That just means I'm further down the line of boyfriend-ness therefore further down the line of childishness."

"Oh you're childish alright." Anne bites back, and he laughs. Despite his arguing and teasing, he knows she's right so he relents.

"I know mum, gonna take better care of the house. Never realized how unfit of a home it was untill it had to house my girls." Penelope perks up, reaching to cling to his neck.

"Can I wake mumma?"

Harry shakes his head, stroking her hair back. "We're letting mumma rest alright, today's you and me yeah? Can do whatever you'd like."

Pleased with being in charge of their activities today, she snuggles back into his neck. He swears she gets her clinginess from her mum, but he really knows it's all him. And he couldn't be prouder.

"What have we been doing to keep us busy?" Anne hums, and Harry wonders if she's just making conversation or wanting to take suggestions on how to pass the time. He frowns, thinking of her all by herself and he wishes he'd just listened to y/n so they could be holed up in Holmes Chapel.

Shaking the thought of her being lonely off, Harry mentally goes through the past few days. They'd rearranged Penelope's room, making it resemble her one at home, ordered some toys online as well decorations for her little area, went on lots of walks, raked the grass in the backyard so they could play in it, but what sticks out the most is how much they've eaten. He glances down at his baby, knowing they're both sporting pudgy bellies from all the fruit snacks and mini muffins they've been gobbling down.

"Ehh," Harry breathes, trying to think of something other than pigging out, "just trying to make the place feel as close to home as possible. Thinking of painting Penny's room."

He actually wasn't thinking that but he knows his mother's been looking for a sign to repaint her own bedroom and this could be it. And maybe he should paint Penelope's room. Her one back in London is a nice lavender color.

"That's wonderful! Maybe I should do mine too?" Harry smiles triumphantly, nodding.

"Now's a good time for it," he agrees, and Penelope turns back around his lap so she can finish the last couple cold bites of oatmeal.

"Alright then! Send pictures when your done and I'll do the same!"

"I'll probably catch it on Instagram before you can remember to send them to me."

"More flowers," Penelope orders softly, tapping her finger against the mask Harry's got stretched out under his left hand. "Please?" She adds after he side eyes her, and then he's grinning, happily drawing a floppy pink flower. Harry ordered her a reusable one a few days ago that'll make her look like she's got cat whiskers and a nose, but until it arrives she's stuck with the disposable one from the store.

"You could just put one of your bandanas around her." Y/n suggests from the kitchen, tightening the lid on Harry's water bottle before packing it into his bag.

"My own mumma!" Penelope sighs as if it's obsurd for her to share anything more than a bloodline with her father. DNA strand? That's fine. Bubble baths? Yes please. The king size bed upstairs? Most definitely. Harry's bandana? Way over the line.

Harry's lips curl in amusement but he shrugs at his wife. "It'll be too big on her little face anyway." He reasons, capping the marker and tossing it into the pencil box he'd brought down from the junk room.

Penelope knees her way into his lap, forcing him to push the chair back so she's not squished against the table. "Finished daddy? I can wear it now?" She asks, bouncing eagerly on his thighs. He nods, reaching around her to grab the mask off the table and present it to her. Squealing excitedly, she clambers down to the dining room floor, running around the counter to go show y/n.

"Mumma look! Look what daddy draws!"

Y/n gasps, crouching down to squish Penelope's face between her hands. "You look so beautiful Penny!" His daughter squeals happily making Harry's smug smirk grow. Pushing himself up from the dining table, he grabs the packed backpack off the counter, throwing it over both his shoulders.

"Ready to go darlings?"

Y/n nods, tying her own bandana around her neck before leading Penelope towards the front door, Harry trailing behind. "Want my treat people mumma."

"S'too hot for a hoodie sweetheart." Y/n declines, dropping to her knees to help Penelope put on her little Nike shoes. Penelope's little hands hold her mum's shoulders for balance, lips drooping to a frown as she pouts at Harry.

"Daddy's got his."

"Daddy's crazy love."

Harry scoffs, hooking his thumbs into the straps of the bag and now he's pouting too. "M'not crazy," he defends, "let her wear her jumper. If it gets too hot we'll just take it off." Penelope beams at him and he's off towards the coat closet before y/n can even respond. He pulls her little grey pullover off the hangar, jumping in shock when he turns around and she's standing behind him. Bouncing on her toes, she throws her arms up so Harry can slip the fabric over her head.

"Thanks daddy," she says politely, running her fingers over the embroidered letters that spell out 'Treat People With Kindess' while her other hand takes a hold of his pinky and ring finger. "Hike now?"

"Hike now." He nods, returning to the front door where y/n is waiting with pursed lips. Grinning, he presses a kiss to her cheek while reaching for the door knob. "She'll be fine. Not gonna let my lucky Penny get heat stroke." He tugs the door open, nudging y/n out first with a hand on her lower back. Penelope follows, tugging him along. He has enough time to close and lock the door before she's impatiently squeezing his fingers.

"You're being slow," she complains, and y/n giggles as she pulls Penelope's mask over her little nose, "I don't want to be payshun." Harry rolls his eyes, pulling his own bandana over his lower face, hiding the endeared smile that takes over his lips. He loves when Penelope slurs or mispronounces her words. Reminds him that she's still just a new human and he's the one that gets to teach her and raise her and love her.

"Alright, alright, we're going." He surrenders, taking y/n's hand in his free one. They're 'hike' is really just a walk a few blocks down so they can have a picnic overlooking the water, but he supposes for Penelope's little legs it's like hiking Mount Everest. He reminds himself of that when he has to pick her up and carry her for the second half of the walk because her legs are tiny and tired. He doesn't mind though. She's his little human. He'd carry her everywhere for the rest of her life if she let him, no questions asked. Because she's his lucky Penny.

Harry's tugging down his side of the bedsheets when it happens and it makes his heart leap into his throat, panic settling in it's place in his chest. Penelope's scream has him dropping the blankets, immediately taking off towards the bedroom door. She's just running out of her own bedroom when Harry steps into the hallway, dropping to pick her up when she blubbers his name.

"What happened moppet? Are ya hurt?"

She buries her head into his neck, jabbing a finger towards her bedroom. Y/n makes her presence known with a gentle hand on his back, easing his racing heart when she softly shushes Penelope. Harry walks to the doorway, leaning forward to peek his head inside. Penelope clings to him tighter, whimpering softly.

"By my bed daddy."

Not spotting any threats in her room, Harry relaxes as he looks towards her bed. The blankets are ruffled and thrown back, her stuffed kangaroo, Mikey laying on the pillow where he'd tucked it in next to her not too long ago.

"There's nothing there petal." Harry soothes, rubbing his fingers over her back. Y/n moves back her blankets, picks up her stuffies, pats down her pillows and nothing. Penelope peels herself away from him to look around, eyes red rimmed and watery. Y/n pats the last pillow, her hand barely smacking it before something is fluttering up from the fabric. Penelope screeches, face returning to his neck and fingers clawing at his shoulder.

"There!" She cries, squirming closer like she's desperately trying to disappear into Harry's chest. The moth flutters around the fairy lights above her bed, landing gracefully on the shelf of toys. "It flies!"

Refraining from giggling over how cute his lucky Penny is, Harry hands her over to y/n. She curls into her mom, grabbing Mikey from her hand and burying her face in his neck. "Alright, alright, I'll get it." Harry assures, climbing up on her bed. Cupping his hand, Harry closes his fingers around the bug, waiting for it's fluttering to tickle his palms before pulling them off the shelf and sealing his fingers together.

"Wanna see him Penny? Can show you he's not scary." Harry offers but that was the wrong thing to say because she cracks into hysterical cries. Y/n swats his arm, bouncing Penelope while he tugs open her bedroom window, releasing the moth into the night air and quickly shutting it again.

"The moth is gone Penny, daddy got rid of him." Y/n assures, prompting Penny to turn her teary eyes to Harry. He holds his hands up to show her it's gone, and while she relaxes a little bit, her eyes still flicker over her bedroom apprehensively. She whines something neither of them can understand, reaching out for Harry to hold her. He gladly takes her in his arms, rubbing her back while y/n shuts off the fairy lights.

"Wanna sleep with us tonight sweetheart?" Y/n offers. Penelope nods, laying her head on his shoulder and sniffling. He carries her to their bedroom, plopping her down right in the middle so she can be snuggled by her mum and dad tonight. Climbing under the blankets next to her, Harry wipes her wet cheeks and gives both her and Mikey a kiss on the nose. Y/n turns out the lights except for the little nightlight in the corner and then she crawls in next to them as well.

They're not even in bed for more than ten seconds before Penelope is laying her head on Harry's chest, stretching her feet out over y/n's tummy and murmuring, "can we watch Ariel?"

Y/n and Harry share a look, both of them reliving too many hours spent watching The Little Mermaid but Harry pulls the movie up anyway, kissing Penelope's head and reaching over to hold y/n's hand. He falls asleep to the sound of Penelope mumbling the words to all the songs, thinking that she one day might give him a run for his money with that voice of hers. Maybe they'll even write songs together. Until then, they've got many more adventures to come.

#The Adventures of Harry and Penny #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #dad harry styles #quarantine #husband harry #daddy harry #dad harry

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miss-noo-na · 4 years

Text

Protected (Wonho fluff/smut)

Title: Protected

Featuring: Wonho (Monsta x) x Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: You’ve acquired a stoic bodyguard who is cramping your style, but you may be able to get him to open up.

Note: I’m sorry this took longer than expected! Between the flu and the global pandemic I’ve been a little stressed, to say the least. This was a commission, and you can get your own commission from me if you’d like! Check my sidebar for more info under “requests”

You sat at the vanity putting the final touches to your lips, eyes concentrating on the rogue you applied with a brush but drifting now and then to the space behind you. In the mirror you could see Wonho by the door, diligent as ever.

When your father had first proposed the idea of giving you a personal bodyguard you laughed, convinced he was joking, but his stern tone said otherwise. Your father was an important business man, whose money funneled directly into politics, and thus made him a saint of some and an enemy of others. You were often regarded as nothing more than a socialite, an heiress to his fortune. You weren’t the typical fundie kid, though, you preferred your privacy.

It didn’t keep you from being a target of scrutiny, but you hardly thought that warranted your own secret service. It was an election year and your father was rubbing elbows with the elites, which he said was the perfect time to “acquire” someone for you.

You had expected someone from the movies, a big bald guy in sunglasses with a sneer, not the babyfaced boy who showed up. You almost laughed when you saw him, until he stood up and you took in his stature and the apparent strength hidden under his suit.

He was quiet, for the most part, concentrating on his task. You had tried to talk to him, it was a nervous habit of yours to speak out loud to whoever was in the room, but he never said much back. It had been months now and you had barely learned a thing about him, but he apparently knew enough about you.

“You can relax, Brutus,” You joked as you waited for him to look at you, and he did. He peered over at you through the glass and you smiled, but he simply turned back to looking ahead.

You were in NYC for the duration of the summer, attending events with your father. You could have stayed home or gone somewhere else, you were an adult of course, but he insisted you come along because it “looked good” to have a family in toe at these things. You hated it, it meant being cooped up in hotel rooms and only going to places he designated.

You dropped your brush and stood up, smoothing your hands down your skirt to flatten any wrinkles.”How do I look?” You asked, turning toward him. He only glanced at you.

“Fine.”

“Gee, you sure know how to compliment a girl.”

You snatched up your purse, indicating you were ready to go, and Wonho led you out into the hall and down into the lobby for your ride. You were having brunch with your father before his afternoon meetings.

He accompanied you to the restaurant in the back of the limo, and when you entered the building he remained near the front. You went ahead without him, meeting your father on the patio and ordering a mimosa as you sat.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early, dear.” Your father said without looking up from his menu.

“This drink is the only fun I’m going to be having here.”

“That’s nonsense, the gala is coming up.”

You sighed, because he didn’t get it. You wanted to go galavanting, to explore, to hang out in the village or walk the Brooklyn bridge, something other than the boring events you had been dragged to your entire life.

“Where is Mr. Lee?” He asked then, and it took a moment to register.

“Oh, by the door I think. Hey, you couldn’t hire someone less uptight?” You asked, sipping from your flute.

“Uptight? He’s a bodyguard, not your friend.” Your father responded with an annoyed look. He never cared much for your free-wheeling attitude and had tried in vain for many years to set you on the straight and narrow.

“I’m just saying, if he has to be around me all the time, he could at least be a little more talkative.”

Your father sighed. “Just pretend he isn’t there.”

The rest of brunch went about as expected, your father going on and on about campaigns and business jargon you didn’t care about, and you pretending to be interested. Every now and then he’d make a fussy remark about where you were going in life and you would say something sarcastic and he would move on. You loved your father, but you didn’t love being under his thumb all the time.

“I want you to go straight back to the hotel.” He insisted as he pulled out his credit card to pay once you were finished.

“What was the point of bringing me here if I wasn’t going to have any fun?”

“I told you, you’ll have fun a-”

“At the gala, got it.” You huffed as you both stood, giving him a peck on the cheek before you made your way back into the restaurant. You could see Wonho just outside the front of the entrance and paused in your steps, glancing back at where your father was and to the front once more. A devious thought came over you as you eyed the exit near the bar, and changed the trajectory of your steps without seeming suspicious.

You exited out onto the sidewalk and smiled triumphantly, thwarting both your father and your bodyguard. You walked down the sidewalk with a hop in your step, wondering where you would spend the rest of the afternoon, pulling out your phone to see what was around. As you walked toward a main street, you were engulfed at the list of shops on your device and didn’t see the hand reaching up from behind you.

You gasped as someone grasped you by the arm, making you drop your phone, and you swung yourself around ready to fight a would-be mugger, only to see it was Wonho, who did not look happy.

You forcibly removed your arm from his grasp and glared at him. “Thanks, asshole.” You said as you knelt down to pick up your phone, wiping it of debris and relieved it wasn’t cracked.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked in a loud, firm tone that reminded you way too much of your father.

“Wherever the hell I want to.”

“Not according to your father and my direct orders.”

You sighed and let your eyes roll toward the sky. “You do know I’m an adult, right?”

“Do you think I want to chase after you? I’m just doing my job.”

You could feel frustration welling up inside you, pressing to the brim of what you had been dealing with lately under the stress of the year. Wonho’s face relaxed as he looked at you, noticing that you were tearing up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

You waved a hand and tried to look away. “It’s not you. I’m sorry I’m being a handful, I just-” You let out a heaved breath as you tried to catch a stray tear with your fingertips.

Wonho hung there awkwardly, glancing around to make sure there were no on-lookers. He glanced down the street and spotted a coffee shop on the corner.

“Come on,” He nudged your elbow gently and gestured with his head to follow him.

A few minutes later you sat by the window staring into a cappuccino with a swirly design in the foam. He drank something black and iced, sitting opposite you in a strangely comforting silence, save for the busy sounds of the cafe.

“He doesn’t seem to get that I’m a fully formed person, he just sees me as this weird accessory he can take around to parties.”

Wonho nodded sagely, watching you in a way that made it feel like he was really listening, something you weren’t accustomed to.

“I used to have a little more freedom, but the more his life changes the more he tries to change mine and I hate it.”

“I can’t say I understand,” He paused to sip his drink. “But I can see how it would be frustrating. Have you tried talking to him?”

You sighed and let out a humorless chuckle. “Doesn’t matter, it’s all in one ear and out the other with him, unless it's about money.”

“I feel a bit weird giving you advice on this since he’s the one that hired me to do what you don’t want me to do.” Wonho laughed and you were surprised at how different his face looked when he smiled. For someone so intimidating on the outside, there was a softness in the way he spoke.

“I don’t blame you, I get that it's your job. Also, I’ve never heard you speak this much.”

“I try to keep some distance from clients.”

“You’re not doing a very good job.” You smiled at him and he laughed back, eyes creasing as they locked with yours and you felt a twitch in your chest.

“We should go back to the hotel,” You said solemnly. And Wonho was quiet for a moment.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you wanted to look around for a little bit.” He said, faintly almost as if to himself.

“What? Really?” You asked, eyes widening.

“Yeah I mean, I’ll be with you, so you’ll be perfectly safe.” He shrugged.

It was risky, but you were going to do it anyway, so what better time than with him accompanying you? You finished your drinks and made your way toward the shops you had spotted before. Though he still kept his distance, he walked a little closer than before, taking in the surroundings of each store and trailing you as you browsed around. Every now and then you spoke to him, showing him something silly you found or making comments, and to your surprise he actually answered this time, and you were delighted at being able to draw a chuckle out of him now and again. The longer you explored, the closer he got and the more you chatted, until it felt like you were just two friends on a lunch date.

“I’m not much for earrings,” You told the sales woman at a shop, leaning over the jewelry counter as she tried to hard-sell you on some items.

“Ah, but these would look precious on you, just ask your boyfriend,” the woman smiled and gestured to Wonho, who hadn’t been paying attention and looked up at the mention of “boyfriend”.

“Oh, I’m not-” He started to say, but you interrupted him.

“What, you wouldn’t like me in these, sweetie?” You asked him, holding the earrings up to your ears and smiling innocently. You saw a blush creep across his cheeks.

“They’re...fine.” He said as he swallowed. You were surprised at how easy it was to work him up, but now that you knew you decided to have fun with it.

You placed the earnings down before reaching out and locking your arm around his, pulling him over to the counter and hugging into his side. “What do you like?”

He looked down at you trying to convey his serious business face, but he looked embarrassed instead.

“Silver is nice.” He offered with a shrug.

You peered down into the case and scanned the trinkets until you laid eyes on a silver locket.

“That one.”

The woman produced the locket from the case, a heavy heart with intricate details that you quite liked. You lifted the locket in your hands and turned to Wonho.

“Help me put it on,” You smiled, handing it over to him and pushing your hair up as you turned around. You could tell he was fumbling, but eventually he got it around your neck and closed the clasp. You did a twirl back in his direction.

“How does it look?” You asked, looking down at how it fell perfectly on your chest. When you looked up, Wonho was staring at it intently, cheeks still warm.

“It's really nice.” He said with a nod, and you noted the sincerity in his voice which made a funny tingle sweep up your neck and ears hearing it.

“Great,” You said, turning back toward the woman, “I’ll take it.”

You paid and wore the necklace out of the store, and noticed Wonho dragging behind. You stopped and reached out to playfully poke his arm.

“I didn’t make you too uncomfortable, did I?”

“Only a little.” He half-smiled. “I’m just worried about someone seeing us.”

“Who could possibly see us?” You said.

“You never know, I can only imagine how your father would react.”

“Well he’s not here, and let's keep it that way.” You said, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone just by the mention of him. Wonho seemed to notice and the subject was dropped as you carried on for the rest of the afternoon, staying out later than either of you intended, but you were actually having fun for the first time in ages and you didn’t want it to end.

“It’s almost dinner time.” You mentioned, glancing at the time on your phone.

“Are you meeting with your father?” Wonho asked, gauging what to do next.

“Was supposed to, thinking of just telling him I’m staying in.” You grumbled, not in the mood to eat with his boring lawyer friends and get condescended to.

“Hey, why don’t we just grab some food and you come up to my room and watch a movie with me.” You said then, knowing it was a bit of a bold statement, but you were tired of being alone all the time, and if he had to be around you, you might as well make it fun.

“I’m not supposed to be in your room after 6pm.” Wonho said with a surprised look on his face, and you wanted to laugh.

“Who is gonna know? We’re not doing anything wrong, I just want someone to hang out with and you’re surprisingly fun when you’re not being the terminator.”

“Gee, thanks,” He responded, but was humored by it, and took a moment to consider your offer.

“One movie, that’s it.”

You happily texted your father to let him know you were tired and you’d be ordering room service tonight, and he let it go without a thought, assuring you Wonho would be nearby if you needed anything. He just didn’t know exactly how close by he really was.

You acquired your take out and a few snacks for the road and headed upstairs. The suite had a living room set up which made it perfect for having company. Wonho made sure he stayed as far to one side of the couch as possible, commenting that it would be unseemly if he got too close. You admired his diligence to his job and his dedication to being a gentleman.

Once the action flick you selected had started and you were consumed in your feast, he seemed to ease up, relaxing and becoming more talkative. You found you shared a similar sense of humor and you liked making him laugh, it was pleasant to your ears, and you couldn’t fight the warm feeling in your chest that stirred up from your stomach the more he opened up.

“You’re actually pretty funny, I’m surprised.” You teased him after the movie had ended, and he feigned offense.

“Even if it doesn’t seem like it, I do have a life and a personality outside of this job.” He assured you.

“Oh? Wife and kids? boyfriend? Cat?” You asked, placing your chin on your fist.

“None of the above,”

“Not even a friend with benefits?”

Wonho turned red in response. “My work doesn’t really allow for th- I mean I can’t really-” He fumbled over his words.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, I get it.” You nodded, “Sounds lonely, though.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’d know about that.” He said faintly, then his eyes went wide. “I didn’t mean that to come off rude, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right. I’ve been locked inside a lot of ivory towers in my day.”

“You’re an adult, why don’t you just leave?” He asked honestly.

“He would find a way to make my life hell, in the name of it being “for my own good,” You did air-quotes. “Truthfully, I want to start college next year, and I can’t afford it without him, so I’m playing as nice as I can now so I can book it out of here as soon as possible.”

“I don’t fault you for that.”

“Thanks, sometimes I feel like a spoiled brat and tell myself to just shut up and stop complaining, but it doesn’t help the way I feel.”

“No one wants to be lonely.”

There was silence and you both stared at nothing, letting it sink in. You were more alike than you had thought.

“I should be going,” He stood then, and you saw him to the door.

“Thanks for putting up with me today.” You said, referring to the entire time you’d had from brunch til now. “You’re not getting paid to hang out with me, but I’m glad you did anyway.”

“Believe it or not, I had fun, too.” He smiled before he pulled the door open, telling you goodnight before making sure the coast was clear and leaving for his room.

Once he was gone and you were left to the empty suite, you felt a strange mix of emotions. Elated at having had such a wonderful time with him, but a little sad he was gone and maybe a little silly for feeling that way, too. You couldn’t deny there was something developing, some nagging little feelings in the pit of your stomach, but it wouldn’t be wise to let them grow.

You figured it might go back to business as usual after that, and for the most part around others it did, but when you were alone you could chat like good friends, joke around, and overall make the situation better for the both of you. You didn’t feel as stifled around him now, and he was more lenient when the timing called for it, allowing you to stop for coffee or check out a nearby store between meetings and luncheons with your father.

It was also to your surprise that he didn’t stop coming to your room to watch TV and hang out, sometimes you would get to talking and the next thing you knew it was 3AM, and he would have to be careful lest someone notice him and think something unsavory was going on. It never was, though. He was always kind and friendly and though many men could have taken advantage of the situation, he didn’t, even though sometimes you wished he would.

There was no denying your full-blown crush on him now, and sometimes you wondered if it was because he was the only man around your age you got to be in contact with. But when you saw that smile and learned more and more about him, you realized you were doomed either way.

The night of the gala came and though you liked getting dressed up, you knew you were in for a snoozefest. Wonho would be there, but he would be delegated to the sidelines to do his job. You wished you were back in the hotel, watching a movie together and hearing him laugh.

“Dear, this is Steven.” Your father interrupted your thoughts to introduce you to yet another partner’s son. They were all the same, recently graduated, “working their way up”, and interested in getting to know you. You couldn’t care less.

But you smiled and shook his hand like all the others and when your father left the two of you alone, you silently prayed he would get bored quickly and leave.

“Your father is a great man.”

They always thought kissing up to you about your dad was a great strategy, but truly it wasn’t. You could spot an ass-kissing from a mile away.

“I suppose so.”

“I’m headed over to the bar, do you need anything?”

“A gin and tonic.” You said, as you might as well get something out of this exchange.

You turned and made eye contact with Wonho across the room and mimic’d hanging yourself, which made him laugh but he quickly pulled his lips together to try and suppress it, shaking his head at you.

Steven returned with your drink and you thanked him, and then he started to talk. This was always the spiel portion of the exchange, where he rambled on about his dad’s company or place in politics and thought it would impress you.

“I never knew he had a daughter.” He said, coming back to the subject of your father.

“Papa doesn’t let me out of the attic often.” You nodded as you sipped your drink. Steven stared at you and seemed to fight to find his words.

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh, of course. Funny, too, the whole package.”

The way he smiled at you made your skin crawl and you were getting some decidedly “off” vibes from this dude, and it didn’t seem he would be leaving anytime soon. He started to follow you around the gala, chatting incessantly, and you tried your best to give little in response, without being rude. As uncomfortable as this was, you would never hear the end of it from your father if you blew this guy off.

“I need to make a trip to the facilities.” You interrupted him, downing the rest of your drink before hurrying away to the bathroom. You mostly stood in front of the mirror, re-applying lipstick and checking your phone, trying to give it enough time for Steven to give up and find someone else to bother. When you exited, you hadn’t expected him to be there in the hall.

“Just making sure you made it back okay.” He grinned.

“Yep, I’m fine.” You said attempting to move past him, but you were surprised when he positioned himself to stop you.

“Hey, I know these parties are a drag, trust me my dad insists I come to them all the time. We could always go somewhere else?”

You didn’t like the way he leaned into you, his breath hot and heavy with alcohol.

“I should probably stay.” You said, trying to slowly wedge yourself on his side to slip away. He was more bold this time as he closed the gap, his body almost against yours.

“Aw c’mon, there are definitely some more exciting places we could go.” He drawled, one hand raising so he could caress your bare arm from the shoulder down. A cringe went through you to the bone and you stepped back, scowling, ready to tear him a new one, but before you could even open your mouth there was a voice from down the hall.

“Everything okay over here?”

You looked over Steven’s shoulder and saw Wonho, and instantly felt relief. Steven glanced over his shoulder but he was still blocking your path.

“We’re fine, buddy.” He called out to the unknown source, but when he got closer Steven could see how much bigger he was than him and straightened up. This gave you the opportunity to slide past him and over to Wonho.

“Are you okay?” Wonho leaned in and said quietly, and you gently shook your head. Wonho looked up and glared at Steven, just as he circled your waist and laid a protective hand on your lower back, steering you away.

“Listen, we were just fine until-”

“Until what?” Wonho asked, inviting him to dare come up with an excuse as to why he was stalking a girl into a dark hallway. This wasn’t an invitation for him to continue, but a warning from Wonho to keep quiet.

“Nothing, man.” Steven mumbled and shambled past the both of you, saying something under his breath as he scurried off.

“Thank God, that dude was giving me the creeps.” You shuddered.

“Did he touch you?” Wonho asked, looking down at you, and only then did you really realize he was still holding you, but you felt warm and safe so you didn’t move out of it.

“He got a creepy little feel on my arm, but you could tell he wanted to do more than that.”

You were surprised at the look on his face with your words. Of course he would be concerned, it was his job, but it almost seemed like he was taking it personally.

Just then, he too realized where his hand was and quickly dropped it away, taking a step back. “Would you like to go back to the party?”

“Actually I’m going to tell my father I’m headed back to the hotel, I’ve had enough for one night.”

Wonho nodded, following you out of the hall and waiting as you said goodbye, turning down invitations to stay longer. Back at the hotel, you wondered if it was too late to have a night in.

“You wanna watch a movie?”

Wonho looked at his watch, “It’s a little late.”

“And everyone is at the gala, but if you’re too tired…”

“No, I’m fine, let me go change.”

You felt an excited flip in your stomach, agreeing to see him in a few minutes and going to remove your dress and makeup to change into something more comfortable. You really felt at ease around Wonho, no matter how you looked or what you were doing.

He returned dressed down as well, and you popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave as he perused the movie channels, settling on a recent comedy.

Once the two of you were settled in, and halfway through the mostly boring flick, you wanted to mention something to him.

“Thanks for earlier, I really appreciated it.”

“Just doing my job” He shrugged, “I noticed you were gone after talking to that guy. I didn’t want to assume anything, but you didn’t seem like you were having the greatest time talking to him.”

“Your instinct would be correct, I don’t enjoy talking to any of the guys at those events.” You explained.

“Not your type, I guess?”

You laughed, “Not at all. You really think I would want to date some stuffy politician or daddys boy? I could never.”

“Yeah, I can’t see you going after that, either.” He chuckled at the mere thought. “Who do you usually go for?”

You were taken aback by the question, not expecting him to really care. The way he waited for your response made you nervous in an excited way, maybe he asked because he was interested?

“Smart, strong, kind.” You listed, not at all unaware that these were the exact words you would use to describe him.

“I can’t imagine it's easy to date with how things are.”

“I could say the same for you.”

He had always been hushhush about those things. Even on your late night talks, he had talked about everything from his childhood to his work, but he never mentioned anything about current, past, or potential partners.

“I bet you’d be a real protective boyfriend,” You smiled. “That’s why you take these kinds of jobs, it's not just work, you really care about your clients. I mean, at least that's what it seems like.”

“No, you’re right.” He nodded, and the sincerity in his voice struck you. “I have to admit when I first got assigned to you, I thought you were just some pain in the ass rich girl.”

“Thanks,” You laughed.

“I don’t mean that now! You definitely proved me wrong.”

You looked at each other for a moment too long and had to turn away when the heat building up in your face was too much.

“I’m glad we’ve gotten to know each other, but I kind of regret it, too.” He said honestly.

“Why is that?”

“Ah, I shouldn’t say.”

He avoided eye contact now, too. You could almost say he looked bashful. “I already said too much.”

You found yourself scooting across the couch closer to him. “Tell me.”

He glanced up at you and his smile fell away from his face as he swallowed, taking a second to really consider whether or not he should say it.

“I’ve just gotten a little more protective over you, that’s all. Maybe more than I would over just a client I’m getting paid to watch over.”

You weren’t sure what he was saying, but you had an idea. The prospect excited you, but you didn’t want to think too much into it, so you waited for him to say more.

“I care about you.”

He said it so quiet it was almost a whisper, and his eyes darted around the room again.

“Like, as a friend?” You asked, silently begging for clarification before you made a fool of yourself.

“As a friend and also more than a friend.”

Now all your insides were up in knots, anticipating this moment but also unsure of what to do next.

“I kind of thought you were just a big dumb jock when you came here, but I was also wrong.” You offered, before continuing, “And I care about you a lot, too.”

Wonho looked relieved at your response, his body relaxing as he let out a breath. Yet, there was silence now, as your confessions hung in the air not knowing where to go with it.

You thought you were going to have to be the brave one, but Wonho beat you to it, reaching out to stroke the side of your face. You leaned into it, rubbing your cheek into his palm, comparing it for a moment to how it felt to be touched earlier in the night by Steven and how it contrasted with Wonho now. In fact, it had been a long time since you’d been touched affectionately at all, always alone in your hotel rooms, and you felt the warmth from his skin expand throughout your body, inside and out.

He pulled you toward him, gentle and firm at the same time, bringing his mouth down on yours. Your eyes drifted shut and you came closer to him, your body pressing into his as you surrendered to the feeling.

A need started to build up, you both felt it, all the unspoken tension of being in this room together, so close and so far apart. You wondered for how long he felt this way, if he’d been pining for you like you had for him. The way he deepened your kiss and became hungry for your skin, you believed it had been awhile now.

You were bold when you slinked your way into his lap, and he welcomed you there, one hand on your hip as the other found its way from your face to your hair, gently gripping it and kissing you harder. You held onto his shoulders and loved the way you could wrap yourself around him, unyielding underneath you yet still soft somehow.

He was breathless when he finally came away from your mouth, his eyes alight as he peered up into your face. He kissed you a few more times before they traveled away, down your neck and into the crook of your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around his head and cradled him into you, pressing your chest against his.

When his hands started to roam around, pulling and pushing at fabric, you realized things were going fast, but you didn’t want to stop and neither did he. You questioned only for a brief moment if this was too much too soon, but when you felt his hand glide under your shirt against your stomach, you forcefully silenced the nagging voice, knowing you wanted nothing else in the world.

You pressed your hips down on him, feeling him grow hard against you and smiling against his skin when he let out a little groan. You slowly rocked your hips into him as he ravaged your neck in nips and pecks, pausing briefly at your ear.

“Tell me now if you want me to stop, because I don’t want to stop.” He said through a ragged breath.

“Don’t stop,” You cooed, kissing his jawline.

He let out a satisfied hum as his hands went back to work, this time stripping the clothing, getting them off faster than you had ever even gotten them off yourself, and you giggled at his insistence. He kissed the center of your chest once it was bare to him, and you let out a surprised yelp when he leaned forward and stood up, hoisting you with him as he brought you to the bed.

You plopped down ungracefully, your laughter getting lost when he kissed you again, hovering over you. He paused only to strip his shirt off so you matched, and you took in the sight of him. You could tell a lot through clothing, but apparently not everything. You couldn’t help but caress your fingertips down the curves of his arms, shoulders, and finally to his chest. While you took your time admiring and feeling him, he made work of tugging your sweats down.

“You’re really okay with this?” He asked, and you laughed.

“I’m more than okay, obviously.”

“I just want to be sure, because you n-”

You silenced him with a kiss, one hand trailing from his stomach to the hem of his pants. You fidgeted with the waistband before sliding your hand past both layers to circle his length and he let out a strained sound against your mouth. It may have seemed like you were always locked away from the world, but truthfully you had had your fair share of trysts and not much more.

It was different with Wonho, though. This wasn’t a boy at boarding school you were sneaking away with to an empty classroom, or a rich man’s son you had spent the weekend with in Rome only to never see him again. This was someone you had gotten to know, laughed with, shared feelings with, and when he touched you it was more than physical, and a small part of that scared you.

But you tried to abandon the worry and focus on the here and now, particularly enjoying the effect you were having on him, His eyes had fallen shut and he bowed forward into your touch.You let him go so that you could use both hands to push away the last of the barriers between you.

He took a moment to admire you in your underwear, his hands feeling down your thighs before coming back up to bring the silky garment down with it. You thought he might get to it, but instead his fingers moved deftly between your legs, finding your center and caressing through your folds. You mewled when he found the perfect spot and stroked you there, working you up until he was able to slide a finger inside you, curling it up and working you from inside. Your eyes were threatening to drift shut and you couldn’t help the sounds you made, all the while Wonho staring down at you with want, but also making sure you were an absolute mess before he gave in.

When he got you where he wanted you, gripping the sheets and head falling back, he removed his hand to replace it with his cock, pressing your legs open and taking his time sliding inside. You fell flat on the bed before you arched up from your spine just as he settled himself to the hilt, and rested there to get you used to the girth.

Your hands came to his arms for something to hold onto as he drew out and pressed back in, slow and steady, gradually building up into a rhythm. Soon, his thrusts struck the back of your thighs and you almost couldn’t take it, feeling so full and dazed, all the wanting and wondering about him peaking in this moment.

“Don’t stop,” You reiterated,, not wanting him to do anything other than this, not wanting this feeling to end, almost disappointed that you were already almost there. Your nails dug into his biceps and you yelped when one hand found your center again, his thumb pressing into you in the right way to aid in your release.

“Dont-ah. Don’t stop, please.” You begged, clawing his skin.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me.” He growled, pounding into you just a little bit harder to drive the point home. Before you knew it, you were tumbling over your orgasm and it radiated from the top of your head to your toes, arching back and up against his hand, the force almost driving him out of you. Wonho was prepared, and he bared down on you, pressing himself deep and letting you ride the waves of pleasure against him.

You had barely recovered when he started to move again, now both his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you against him, sweat beading on the side of his brow as he watched your body writhe under his control.

“Please, please, give it to me.” You whined, holding his forearms and meeting his thrusts with your hips. He let out an elated “ah” before he fell forward, pulsing his release inside you, panting and moaning against your neck.

You waited a long while for your heart rates to decline before he peeled himself off you and fell slack next to you, but were surprised when he pulled you into his chest. You were so used to things ending abruptly and being sent on your way, you had never laid in your post-poitus like this, not caring that he was sweaty as he held you tight and kissed your temple.

You found yourself strangely emotional, wanting to bury yourself in his skin somehow. You nuzzled him with your nose and he hummed happily.

“I’ve never done this before.” You said before you clarified, “the cuddling part.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked as he started to draw away, and you hugged him back.

“No, I like it.”

“Good, so do I.”

You laid in a comfortable silence together, held tight in his arms as he occasionally kissed parts of your face, from between your eyes to your nose and finally your lips.

“What do we do now?” You asked, not wanting to open your eyes just yet.

“For now? I’m going to keep looking after you.” He said with a squeeze, and you were content with that.

#monsta x wonho #monsta x #monsta x smut #wonho scenarios #monsta x scenarios #commission #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #lee hoseok #shin hoseok

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ink-on-parxhment · 3 years

Text

it’s never too late to turn the other way

also find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085704

Summary:

First it's graduation, and then one years passes, then two, then five. This job they're in, everyone around him seems to love it, seems to need it like they need the air in their lungs and blood in their veins, but sometimes he looks up and can only see how much it takes and takes and takes.

This life was what he was made for, what he was good at, but just maybe he can have something else, be something else.

Excerpt:

“I don’t know if I was ever meant to be a hero in the first place.”

There’s a sigh on the other end of the line that seems like it releases every bit of air in Aizawa’s lungs.

Graduation day rolls around with pale sunshine and what he feels is relatively little fanfare. For all that they have seen in their three years at UA, he thinks that this should feel more monumental, like maybe it should be bigger than his brain is making it.

But he looks around at the crowd and the decorations, sees Midoriya bouncing on the balls of his feet and exuding enough energy to power a city block, and thinks maybe it is that big, maybe it is monumental. It just doesn’t feel like anything monumental to him.

So he sits in a fold out metal chair and listens to Nedzu talk about the fundamentals of heroics, about what it means to be a Pro. He watches Midoriya rise from his spot further down the front row, where he sits right beside Momo, his suit gleaming green in the streaming sunlight, and take the microphone with shaking hands. He talks about how close their class is, about how they are siblings in arms, bonds forged in blood-wasitworthitwasitreally- and how it is an honor to take up the mantle as heroes amongst other professionals. He watches in a daze, hands cold as ice and sweating bullets, as Momo takes the mic from Midoriya and talks about dedication, about honor, about bravery-I’mnotreadywe’renotready-and then they’re all standing to get their diplomas and, more importantly for most, their licenses.

The Big Three go first, and then it’s all alphabetical from there. He watches Midoriya wipe tears from his cheeks on the sleeve of his uniform as he walks away from a handshake with Toshinori, watches Momo take her diploma from Nedzu and a wide, full smile stretches her mouth, watches Bakugou bare his teeth in a grin down at his license.

Eventually, it is his turn. He walks up the stairs to the stage and takes his diploma from Nedzu, shakes the chimera’s paw, and takes his brand new Pro Hero License as well. The look on Nedzu’s face is unreadable as always, but now more than ever he cannot decipher the glint in his eyes.

He steps away and off the stage, watches the rest of his class take their diploma and license with a sense of awe about them. He looks down at his own license, official Commission seal in the corner, and his face and name stare back up at him. Their licenses aren’t supposed to have their real names on them, for security reasons and for underground Pros like Shinsou who need anonymity to survive, but he had never gotten around to changing his hero name.

He stares down at his ID photo, traces a thumb across the official seal, and breathes past the lead weight that has dropped into his lungs at the thought that they’re here, they’ve made it.

He looks around, sees Midoriya pull his mother into a hug, both of them crying happy tears with All Might standing awkwardly next to them, as if the whole class hadn’t figured out he had practically adopted Midoriya. Bakugou is being aggressively group hugged by his group of friends, face a storm cloud but hands unlit, his equally explosive mother taking pictures in the background. He sees Shinsou pull a faux dismayed Aizawa in for a picture, and that’s another mentorship turned pseudo-family that has been poorly hidden since their second year.

His own family, his own father, is walking toward him, and he can see their smiles from here. He’s holding his Pro license and his family is proud. There’s so much happiness in the clearing he can practically taste it, and he feels nothing.

This is what he’s worked for since he was a child. So why does it feel like he’s still got a full marathon to run and no end in sight?

I saw you’re in town. Want to grab lunch?

He sends the text before he can overthink it, going back to halfway watching the late-night news and idly eating his cooling dinner. According to the newscast, Midoriya will be in town for the next week, and he hasn’t seen his friend face-to-face in over a year.

I work most days that im there!! Are you free Monday? The text also has what feels like way too many overly excited smiley emojis that still don’t compare to the literal sunshine that is Midoriya’s megawatt smile, and he has to shove down the rush of affection that settles in his ribs at his friend’s enthusiasm.

I am free Monday. Just let me know what time.

He is free most days, is what he doesn’t say. He sees his mother once a week and video-chats his siblings just as often. He tries to see Momo once a month, but she is busier than ever between her new agency and her recently revealed relationship with Jirou. He texts Midoriya and Iida, does his best to stay in touch with Tsu and Ochako. He has a text chain with Shinsou that goes quiet for weeks and then chimes notifications constantly for days. He sends memes back and forth with Kaminari.

He came out of graduation with hard won friendships, relationships he bought with blood and sweat, and he clings to them with a ferocity he does not cling to his work with. They all talk about their work like it brings them this greater purpose, like it’s what supplies the blood in their veins and oxygen in their lungs, but he clocks into the same agency he interned with his third year exactly on time and clocks out exactly the moment he is supposed to.

He does his work. It pays his bills, and that is no small thing, he thinks. He is saving lives and making a difference, and that should be enough. (It is enough, it has to be enough, what else would he even do?) But he thinks about the light in Midoriya’s eyes when he talks about a job that sounds like it just keeps taking and taking and taking and can’t quite muster the same level of enthusiasm.

Does 1:30 work???

It does, in fact, work. He would have made whatever time work, he thinks, barring a major villain outbreak.

Yeah

They make plans to meet up at the restaurant their friend group had haunted back in high school, which isn’t too far away from his agency or where Midoriya will be that day. He types the plan into his phone’s calendar and sets up a reminder he will not need. The strict organization is a habit he fell into in high school alongside Iida’s detailed schedules and Midoriya’s enthusiastic notes, and it is a habit he has yet to shake.

The newscast flashes on the screen in front of him, the aftermath of a fight and newscasters talking. There’s a video of Red Riot carrying civilians, and then a transition to him looking scuffed and beat up but relatively unharmed.

Something close to ice settles in his stomach as he watches his former classmate, his friend, field news reporters, and even through the screen and all this distance he can see how tired Kirishima is. The newscaster is talking, but he cannot hear their words. All he can see is the way Red Riot, because he is Red Riot right now, is smiling for a camera and the way his shoulders are inching up towards his ears, a habit he’d been reprimanded for in Media classes since first semester second year.

The ice solidifies, and he picks up his phone before he can think about it.

I can’t wait to see you Monday.

I can’t wait to see you too!!!

xXx

Time passes til Monday in a hazy crawl. He has Saturday off, and uses the free time to go see his mother. He has recently taken up new hobbies, primarily punch needle just because when he brought it up at the last class get-together Bakugou had laughed right in his face, and he couldn’t resist the eye-twitch it brought about every time he brought it up in conversation. That’s what started it. Now it’s just soothing.

He calls his sister, feels his shoulders relax as she tells him all about her elementary classroom. They don’t talk about anything heavy, and he feels all the tension in his body seep into his couch cushions as the call ends.

He’s been trying for more precision with his ice recently, more out of idle curiosity than any use it will have in the field. It has morphed into his second hobby at home, which is tiny ice sculptures that melt and leave puddles when he gets distracted and are too lumpy by half. He thinks about his sister and her soft, gentle voice on the phone, talking about her classroom of kids, and her fierce, sharp eyes that always see through him, cut him to the quick, and conjures his quirk until there is a tiny badger in his palm, only recognizable by the fact he knew that’s what it was supposed to be.

“Oh well,” he thinks, vaporizing it. “They’ll get better.”

He stops, blinks. The thought buoys him all the way through work the next day and into Monday.

Midoriya is already at the restaurant when he gets there, so he makes his way to the table and sits across from his friend. He’s got his characteristic green curls pushed up under a cap, and he’s in a well-worn All Might sweatshirt that he recognizes from third year. Shouto has done nothing to cover his own recognizable hair, but he changed out of his uniform before he left the agency. It’s enough, he thinks.

Midoriya is bouncing slightly in his chair like he’s barely holding words back, like he can’t quite keep his energy contained in his mortal frame, and it reminds him of research rabbit holes and long nights and manic grins. He looks so different from the smile he gives the press that it would have given him whiplash had he not seen this same megawatt smile across a phone screen at least once a week.

“Hey! How are you?! I know we talked the other day, but I haven’t gotten to talk to you since I traveled and I haven’t seen you at all on the news, which I hoped was a good thing, but you never know.”

He smiles, waits for Midoriya to finish his thought process before answering his first question. It’s good to see his friend. “I’m well, well enough. I’m not on the news enough to make watching the news a good indicator for how I am, though.”

Midoriya scoffs, his grin still in place. It’s a little bit blinding. “You’re on the news more than you think! Anyway, what have you been up to? We spent our whole last call talking about my last case, I want to hear about you!”

Midoriya has leaned forward, resting a little on the table, and Shouto is the sole focus of that green gaze. It’s a little breathtaking to be under that much scrutiny all at once, because one hundred percent of Midoriya’s attention is no small thing. He realizes in that moment how little he has to actually say, when he isn’t talking about his family or his friends. He doesn’t want to talk about work.

So he just… doesn’t. “I took my mom my latest project, and she’s doing really well. She’s been asking about you, actually.”

If Midoriya is confused about him not talking about their jobs, he does an admirable job of hiding it. He leans forward on his arms, twists a napkin in his scarred hands, and lets Shouto talk about his family and his new hobbies for longer than he thought he had words for.

Their drinks come, and eventually their food. Midoriya is swirling broth around his bowl by the time he runs out of questions and Shouto runs out of words. He hasn’t brought up work once during the entire meal, and Midoriya hasn’t asked. He feels happier, lighter than he has in months, and Midoriya is smiling, softer and gentler than his megawatt smile and more precious for it.

“We should make a habit of this.” He says, before he can let his brain get in front of his mouth.

Midoriya doesn’t even hesitate. Both their schedules are busy and the travel time would be insane, but he doesn’t hesitate when he says. “We should.”

xXx

There’s a heart monitor beeping steadily, and the rapid fire tap-tap-tap of a cell-phone typing indicator somewhere to his left. When he turns his head he can see a bowed head of mussed green curls and broad shoulders covered by a partially torn uniform.

The room smells like antiseptic and the air feels chilled even with his constant thermoregulation. Even if he can’t quite remember what part of the fight landed him here, he’d recognize the hero-specific hospital rooms, head-wound or no.

“Hey,” he says, and almost chokes on how dry his throat is.

Midoriya’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice, phone forgotten in his hand. He looks exhausted, tension lining his shoulders and bruises smudging his eyes, though whether those are from lack of sleep or from his own round with a healing quirk Shouto doesn’t know.

“Hey.” Midoriya says, clearing his throat. “How do you feel?”

He takes inventory of himself, tenses the muscles in his legs and arms just to prove he can, then rolls his shoulders and tenses at the shock of pain that shoots down his neck. “My head hurts, but mostly I’m just tired.”

Midoriya sighs, but mostly he just looks fond. Shouto doesn’t think he has any right to be this aggrieved considering how many times he has been on this end of the hospital bed.

“That makes sense. I don’t know how much you remember about the fight, but you went head first into a wall there at the end, so you should be free to go once they clear you on the concussion.”

He hums, looks around for a clock to see how long he’s been here for. The fight had been midday, but the curtains are pulled tight and the bright, artificial lights from above give nothing away. There isn’t a visible clock, but the board on the wall they use for long-term patients hasn’t been filled out and they’ve only clipped his papers there, so he assumes he hasn’t been here very long.

“You know,” Midoriya starts, and his voice shakes like it did years and years ago, like he’s nervous and doesn’t know how to get these particular words past his teeth. “You end up in the hospital more now than you ever did when we were kids.”

He whips back around to Midoriya, fast enough it sends pain shooting behind his eyes and down through his shoulders. He grits his teeth as it passes, even though Midoriya’s eyes go soft and concerned. He’s leaning forward in the barely-padded visitor chair, still scuffed and worn from the battle Shouto barely remembers, and thinks that can’t be right, can it?

He thinks back, traces the past few months, past few years in his mind. The fifth year anniversary of their graduation had come and gone with little fanfare not too long ago, all of 1-A that could get off of work crowding around a busy restaurant table. They’d poked fun at Midoriya and Bakugou and their new tug-of-war over the Number Two spot until the two (or Bakugou, really) had almost come to blows, and they had had to bow out of the establishment before someone called a camera crew.

But then he thinks beyond that. Thinks about how many times someone has had to call in Midoriya for this exact thing, especially after he had moved back here after he had shot up the rankings again. He closes his eyes and tries to remember if there has been a single month in the last year he hasn’t landed himself in the hospital, always over something minor, and can’t come up with a single stretch of time.

“Yeah,” he says, because he has nothing else to say in the face of the pit that has opened up in his stomach. “Being a pro is hard, Midoriya.”

Midoriya laughs, bright and loud and utterly exhausted as he slumps back in the creaky hospital chair. “I know. I know! But still. Be careful out there. If not for you then for the rest of us.”

He smiles, wry and knowing, and hauls himself out his chair. There’s a pit yawning wide in Shouto’s stomach, numbness and horror warring for space in his chest, because what has he been doing, what has he been letting happen?

“I’m going to go let someone know you’re awake, okay?”

He just nods.

xXx

Half a year passes before anything comes of his conversation with Midoriya, but he cannot get his words out of his head. He goes into situations at work just like he always does, throws himself into the line of fire like he has since he was a teenager, and cannot get the nagging voice in the back of his head to stop whispering, “you’re being reckless, you’re not trying hard enough, you need to be careful.”

He sits vigil over his coworkers when they get hurt and thinks nothing of it. It’s part of the job. He watches Midoriya get slung through drywall and crumble the brick behind it a month later. He feels cold and empty just long enough for the panic to set in, just long enough for him to get him to first responders and see Midoriya open hazy eyes as they bandage his face. He passes the neutralized villain to the authorities by complete muscle memory, and somehow makes his way to sit with Midoriya in the hospital until he wakes up from all the different healing quirks used to set his body to rights. When he wakes up, he doesn’t seem that upset about the whole affair, but then Shouto thinks back and realizes he hasn’t been hurt like this in over a year, and this is nothing compared to the damage that maps out his exposed arms.

He himself is nursing a bruise the size of a grapefruit along his ribs and got closer than he is comfortable admitting to hypothermia in the fight that took Midoriya out, and he’s not the one in the hospital bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asks Midoriya, hovering a chilled hand over Midoriya’s shoulder, where he knows bruises lay.

“Ah, I’m alright. It could have been worse, you know?” he says, and presses the bandaged skin into Shouto’s offered hand.

He doesn’t want to think about the alternate, could-have-been-worse situation. Instead, he amps up the power in his palm until Midoriya sags against his hand, a relieved sigh passing between his lips. “I do know. You’re still hurt.”

“Couldn’t’ve been avoided.” His words are slurred, all soft around the edges in pain relief and exhaustion.

It couldn’t have been avoided. He thinks about the bruise marring his ribs. He thinks about the concussion that had landed him in the hospital not that many months ago, and the other, minor concussions and sprains and bloody-blue-turned-purple bruises he’s taken home and wrapped because he took a hit he couldn’t, wouldn’t dodge.

He thinks about the way his very skin aches sometimes, in the mornings and after being out in the cold for too long.

“Maybe.” He says, and curls his fingers more securely over his bandaged shoulder.

xXx

It goes on like that for a while, and he can’t quite figure out what hits are the ones he’s supposed to take and the ones that can be avoided. He watches his friends take hits day after day, throws his own body into the fray and comes out mostly unscathed. They went to school for this. He should have the answer to this by now, he thinks. He remembers answering questions about acceptable risk. But then, it’s all different in the field, now that it’s his job and his call and there are people he could save if he just got between the situation and them. Midoriya’s words rattle around his brain at night, and he spends a lot of time making tiny sculptures of mishappen lions that melt in his palms as he thinks about what it means to put your all into a job and what it means to be reckless.

He figures it out all at once on a Thursday evening.

He’d been called in as backup for villain apprehension, what should have been textbook and a relatively safe position considering Midoriya and several sidekicks were the heroes taking point on the assignment.

One minute he’s helping shepherd civilians out of the wreckage, and the next minute he looks up and is met with a flying chunk of concrete coming right at him, rebar sticking out at lethal angles. There’s nowhere to go, no where for him to dodge and he’s protecting civilians besides.

So he just. Stands there.

Time seems to slow down to a crawl.

There is no fear.

The chunk of road is still flying at him, there are explosions in the distance, and there’s a hollow pit in his stomach.

This is how I die. He thinks. It isn’t a scary thought. After everything, this is how I die.

A voice, shouted loud enough to be heard over the boom of the explosions is what pulls him out of his stupor.

“Shouto!” It’s Midoriya. His voice is frantic and panicked and full of fear and his adrenaline kicks on pure instinct, and that’s when he remembers to do something.

His quirk manifests in his hands not a second too soon, a mini glacier freezing the oncoming boulder (and half the destroyed roadway) in place feet before it can hit him.

It is far, far too close for comfort.

Midoriya bounds over with a crackle of green lightning, sparing a brilliant smile for the remaining civilians before grabbing Shouto’s shoulder and turning him towards an awning for as close as they’ll get to privacy right now.

“Are you okay?” he asks lowly, and his eyes are wide and concerned despite the fact that neither of them have any noticeable injuries.

Except Shouto’s heart is beating so hard he’s surprised Midoriya can’t hear it, his right hand has completely frosted over despite his otherwise complete control over himself, and the hollow feeling he’s been carrying around since he can remember has just cracked wide open into something hot and raw and painful.

“I will be.” He says, voice rough, and it’s the truth even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“Okay.” Midoriya frowns, hand warm and heavy on his shoulder. “Okay. Just let me know.”

He doesn’t push any further, just squeezes Shouto’s shoulder and then heads off to take care of the rest of the civilians caught up in all this.

Shouto turns, chest aching and heart racing, and does the same.

He has a job to do.

xXx

He is fine, or close to it. He sits in his living room hours later, heart still thumping hard in his chest and hand still icy against the rest of his skin, and bounces his phone against his thigh.

He is fine. He’s got a text message from Midoriya checking up on him and an email notification from their agency manager asking if he got checked out by a medic, and he’s ignoring both of them. The image of concrete rubble keeps flashing through his mind, jagged rebar tearing through the air at fatal speeds, and he can still feel the way his body wouldn’t move.

The way he just accepted it. Welcomed it.

He can’t call Midoriya. For all that he is his best friend, the thought of laying out the endless pit, the numbness that has plagued him since before he can remember scrapes him raw. He cannot face that boundless optimism with the cracked weight in his lungs right now.

But he cannot go on like this. The kind of indecision, the kind of recklessness, the kind of hopelessness, he had felt is going to do what Midoriya had warned him about sooner or later and get him killed.

This might have been the path he has always been on, the path he was set on and guided down, but maybe there’s another way. Maybe there’s something else out there for him.

He hits the unlock button on his phone and searches his contacts, looks for a number he hasn’t needed in a long time. Swallows down something like bitter pride, remembers if you ever need anything from days a little more fearful and chaotic, and hits call before he can talk himself out of it.

It rings four times before an answer.

“Aizawa.”

“I-“ He cuts himself off.

“Are you safe?” He asks, urgent. The sounds of laughter trickle in over the phone’s tinny speaker, voices muffled but loud in the background. He had forgotten in the onslaught of his own personal numbness, but Eri would be starting high school by now. He still remembers her wrapped up in Mirio’s cape and Midoriya’s arms, and hearing her laugh muffled by the hallways of her home sends a surge of guilt through his chest for calling his teacher out of a happy, early retirement.

“Yes.” He answers, because he is physically safe. “I’m sorry. I—”

He feels like his words are falling from his mouth completely unbidden.

“What’s going on, Todoroki?”

“What do you do when you can’t be a hero anymore?”

“Kid—"

“I don’t know if I was ever meant to be a hero in the first place.”

There’s a sigh on the other end of the line that seems like it releases every bit of air in Aizawa’s lungs.

“There are other options for you, Todoroki, other than hero work. You’re good at what you do, but this isn’t your only option, kid.” He sighs again, and this time it sounds just as tired but more accepting, more like contentment. “Trust me, there’s a life beyond your license. If you need to, get out while you can.”

Shouto takes a deep breath in, holds it, lets it out. In for eight, hold for four, out for eight. The cracking, aching pain in his chest that has replaced the numbness he has been carrying around since he can remember eases ever so slightly. It feels a little lighter, a little easier to breathe around.

“Okay.” He says, and his voice is rougher than he wants it to be. “Okay.”

“Let me get you a phone number to call, okay kid?” Aizawa says.

He hears a shriek of laughter and thundering footsteps in the background, and even before he finds a pen for the phone number, he can feel part of the weight weighing down his lungs chip off and away.

xXx

He ends up talking to Hound Dog, who he wasn’t aware while he was in school but is not only a therapist but a licensed career counselor for the Gen-Ed and Business students along with dealing with the Heroics and Support kids’ course load.

Hound Dog starts the call with the ever professional “How can I help you?”

Which he appreciates more than he can say, because he saw Hound Dog more than anyone in his class except for maybe Midoriya and Bakugou, but it also grinds his brain to a complete and utter halt.

He hasn’t talked to Hound Dog since graduation. Unlike Aizawa, he hadn’t had a connection with him outside of their strictly professional one. He isn’t comfortable or familiar with the man. He cannot imagine making this call without the prompting he had gotten, and he wonders, wildly, if he would be freezing this much if he had made this call to someone with the exact same job title that he had never spoken to before.

He thinks the answer would be yes, considering he can’t get words out past his teeth.

“Hello?” The tone is worried, but not confused. He has a feeling this is not the first time someone has frozen on the other end of a phone call to Hound Dog. This isn’t even the first time Todoroki hasn’t been able to get his thoughts in line when talking to the man.

He clenches his fist, lets his nails press into his palms, and breaths so deep he thinks he can feel it in his toes. Thinks about the words he’s been rehearsing.

“Ah. Hello. I was calling to ask you how I could market my hero-course education and experience in a non-heroics field.”

He can hear the tap-tap-tap of a keyboard, and then, “I think I can help you out with that. Do you have any ideas for what you want to do, or are you just starting this process?”

His brain stutters to a halt again, his thoughts a whirl of—I don’t know, I haven’t thought this far ahead, this was all I was ever meant for, I don’t know what to do now—but it’s quicker to cut off that train of thought this time. He has his laptop open in front of him, and a pad of paper beside him. He resolutely doesn’t click the pen like he wants to.

“I don’t know exactly what I want to do yet. If you have ideas, I would welcome them.”

It comes out a lot steadier than he feels.

xXx

He finishes the call over an hour later with about forty tabs open for different vocational programs, for local colleges with education and analyst and support programs, with a notepad with numbers to call if he has questions about programs.

He ends the call and breathes deep, the room around him dark except for his computer monitor. His resignation letter is typed and ready to print, glaring up at him from his Important Personal Documents folder.

He raises his hand over the little bowl he keeps on his desk to practice his sculptures.

With a rush of cold, the details are lacking. It wouldn’t win him any awards, but he thinks it looks like it’s meant to. A phoenix taking flight.

For the first time since he picked up his license, since maybe forever, the feeling carving space in his chest is hope.

#bnha spring break #bnha #todoroki shouto #angst #angst with a happy ending #tw:suicidal ideation #tw: canon typical violence #tw: hospitals #I swear this fic isn't as dark as it sounds I just want my boy to be happy #my writing #Prompt: Pro #Mido is a Good Friend

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randombtsprincessa · 4 years

Text

Behind the Stick

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 7k

Genre: Smut

Summary: Your bartender for the night and you take an interest in one another.

Warning: Drinking, Bartender! Yoongi, Wings Era Yoongi, Dom! Yoongi, flirting, kissing, nipple play, groping, fingering, oral (both receiving), deep throating, protected sex, public sex, something very close to subspace, yeah, someone knows you had sex.

You crossed your legs, the fabric of your sinfully tight dress stretching across the knees at the movement.

The dress was armor, worn to seamlessly blend through the type of ambience the bar you’d visited had going on. It was fiery red, not a color you wore a lot, but it matched well with the vermillion of the décor. The dress hid you amongst the frequenters of this particular establishment, chatting and very much unaware that you were not here to drink yourself dizzy and go home to sleep.

You were working.

And so, you needed to be left alone so you could do it. Dressed in your working attire of practical jackets and shoes, you doubted you’d get what you wanted. So, you’d shirked off your normal blouses, pulled off trousers and loafers and donned on that dress and the heels.

The heels…

You swore to god, the heels were a work of the Devil’s hands. Sinewy yet sleek, they latched onto the palm of your feet, held up by shimmering ribbons that had taken you the better part of the evening to figure out.

They added a stature that made you taller than you were, straighter in your slouch and you felt like a goddess, sitting at a corner of the bar top, idling over a simple gimlet.

You let out an exhale, taking a sip when a tiny, imperceptible change zipped through the business side of the counter. The man who’d been wiping the glasses exchanged a look with the one who checked the bottles and headed to the other far side.

You watched, interested, the process of the Shift; when one batch of workers went home and the second batch took over. It was like clockwork, each piece working near flawlessly – once routine had been perfected, of course.

You glanced down; eyeing the lime garnish and chewing into it, lifting your eyes back up to watch the bartenders. Now, there were additions. Two other men had joined the ones who had been present when you’d walked in.

One of them was laughing, a bubbly laughter barely echoing through to you but the other, slighter man stood some space away, his back to you as he listened intently to what was being discussed.

You felt rather see the solidification of a decision. It seemed to come from the man whose face you couldn’t see. Nodding and gesticulating with his hand, he sent the first two men off on their way. The man who’d been laughing had sobered by now, nodding as the man set out what seemed liked instructions, nodding while the man pointed to different directions. When he was done, the taller man went to the main area when the man you’d been eyeing finally turned, entering the bar.

You kept chewing on the lime wedge, absent mindedly keeping your eyes on the man. He rolled up the sleeves of his simple white shirt and turned to check the bottles before picking a few up, taking whiffs from them. Placing the bottles back, he checked under the counters, too thoroughly to miss anything and nodded to himself.

Raising his head, his elfin features settled into a professional mask; blank and a little off from approachable. Shrugging off your interest, your eyes soon drifted back to the subject you needed to study for your piece: What People were like when Inhibitions weren’t a problem.

Idol Magazine was on its way to becoming a people’s choice magazine and part of that problem came from the fact that people were actually reading what was in it. It wasn’t just a magazine that shopaholics picked up on the way to the checkout counter or people brushed by for the quick gossip. Each month, a reader survey the office itself conducted showed just what the people loved and or wanted from your magazine.

No, it was a people’s magazine and writers in your magazine worked hard to cater to a variety of tastes.

Your particular area was an in-depth representation of the people who surrounded your readers. Armed with a Psychology and English degree, you’d stepped through the building of your workplace, eager to start and you’d worked diligently.

You loved your job, absolutely.

The thing with writing was that you couldn’t just give your readers whatever general idea a layman would have. No, you had to watch, examine, understand and give examples. If you did not, some moron quoting Aristotle was bound to come over, barging for you to be taken down.

No, you wrote a column worthy of a college thesis and you gave it your all.

Hence, why it was necessary for you to put down your intrigue for the new bartender and turn to your material subjects. You owed your loyal readers that, after all.

You spent the next few minutes deep in your study, taking notes down in your phone on the pretext of texting.

You’d just focused on a particular couple. The man was red faced, probably trying hard to control his liquor while the woman he was with looked torn between amusement and annoyance. You’d have wondered if you should maybe get someone to interrupt but it didn’t look like a first date; the girl kept patting his hand, speaking in a familiar soft voice to soothe the nearly gagging man.

You put down a few more notes.

“Lady; what’ll it be?”

Starting at the sudden question along with the shadow that fell over you, your fingers fumbled and sent the phone clattering on to the melamine counter. You looked up like a frightened rabbit.

It was the bartender, bearing down on you with raised eyebrows at your reaction to him.

“What?” You asked, gaining some composure back.

“I was going to take your order.” The man said. His lips twitched, eyes flickering between your own before flitting down to your phone. “Also, I’m going to have to ask if you’re doing anything illegal, just in case your reaction had something to do with it.”

You snorted at the passable joke. Never mind the fact that it was actually wrong of you to be observing his clientele like this but well…you needed something to write about.

You weren’t breaking any laws, of course. Ok, maybe some code ethics but you never took any oaths.

“I’ll take another gimlet, and no, I’m not; I just got way too much into my phone. It’s bad habit.” You sidetracked him easily and he was probably more interested in working anyway.

He nodded at you, going to the center to mix the drink while you finished the note, shutting down the app. You had enough for a five hundred to thousand word column.

With nothing better to do anymore, you indulged in your earlier fascination with the bartender, who had currently moved on to making three drinks at once.

You were right about him not seeming like the usual bartender. The level of precision with which he poured, stirred, garnished the three different glasses in front of him with no pause, no hesitation spoke volumes as to his experience.

What was it about bartenders anyway? They worked with alcohol all day, almost every day, were more than likely to be privy to the shadiness of any town but there was just something so…alluring about them. The knowledge, the street smarts and unexpected wisdom was almost never shown. Of course, the outside was just as charming to the species.

Tattoos, piercings, too tight shirts showcasing forearms and chest…you couldn’t go wrong with that packaging.

Your bartender didn’t have any of that.

His pale skin was unmarked, smooth like porcelain and his white shirt didn’t emphasize his physique. You also couldn’t see any piercings on him. The unbidden thought of seeing all of him just so you could see if he had any ink or metal hidden away from public view made you blush, looking away.

No, you couldn’t harbor feelings like that for a complete stranger. He was working and so were you, albeit that you were done. He still had a whole shift ahead of him. You doubted he would be very much interested in being distracted by you when he was trying to pay his bills.

You certainly wouldn’t appreciate that.

He was good looking though…

With groomed black hair, a button nose and pouty, perfect small lips, he would’ve passed off for a life size doll. Yet the expression of focus, eyes sharp and lips pursed as he worked fast and efficient…

You couldn’t help imagining that look as he worked just as efficiently on you. You wondered if he would wear the same expression when he pounded into you…

You slapped a hand to your forehead, trying to force out the image of the young bartender sliding himself in you. You were getting drunk, it had to be it. Even if you had been nursing the gimlet as slowly as you could, it had to be the alcohol.

And you had just ordered another one…

You glanced at the bartender again, watching him serve up the drink and grabbing yours.

Oh no…here he comes…

You managed to school your features in a mask of polite disinterest just as the man stopped in front of you, glass in hand.

“A gimlet, ma’am; would you like something else?” He asked, equally polite.

You quickly shook your head, taking the drink from him and taking a huge gulp. He immediately raised his hand.

“Whoa, you don’t have to take it down in one go.” He said.

He was right, the liquid throttled on its way down and you nearly spat it back out again. “I’m sorry, I know,” You coughed out.

He placed his hands down flat on the counter top, leaning his weight on them before he did a quick scan of the room, returning to you.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

You blinked up at him. Your name…? Why did he want your name? Your name wasn’t anything important…

“What’s yours?” You countered.

Something shifted in his gaze. “Well, that tells me you’re not a regular.” He snickered.

You took another gulp from your drink, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head quickly. “Nothing, nothing; just saying that if you were a regular we’d probably be very familiar by now.” He said.

The edges of his mouth hitched up into a smirk, as if he was amused by a private joke, his eyes – pitch black, reflecting the star like lights of the bar.

“That’s very cryptic of you. Are you trying to hint that you’re a star employee and I should tip you more?” The tart in your voice could’ve put the lime garnish to shame but it only made your attractive bartender grin broadly.

“Nice, let me guess; you’re a speaker? No, most of those people use that prompter shit, reading out other people’s words. So, definitely not political,” He mused, tilting his head.

You laughed. “That’s very…liberal of you.” You teased.

“I am a leftist at heart. So, you’re a writer, aren’t you?” He continued probing.

You sighed, resigned to giving in. “Yes, I’m a magazine columnist for Idol. My name is Y/N.”

The man smiled. “Columnist Y/N…it’s got a ring to it. I’m Min Yoongi, I’m,” he paused, “just a lowly bar worker.”

You gave him a knowing smile, sipping at your drink. “You don’t seem like one.” You murmured.

Yoongi’s eyes popped open, “Why do you say that?”

You shrugged, swirling the little toothpick in your drink. “I don’t know, you don’t seem too…lowly, if you know what I mean.”

He leaned forward, elbows angled towards you. “I don’t indeed. Do explain,”

You continued to stare down, trying to get your thoughts into order, as per what you’d seen of him for the evening.

“You just…you’re dominating, you feel powerful and you have this aura. When you were taking your shift, I saw how you gave out instructions and they got followed. You mixed three drink and I didn’t see one mistake – you didn’t even slow down, and there were no complaints. This gimlet is much better than the one the other bartender made – don’t tell him I said that. You’re just…more. Which either makes me think you’re way more experienced behind a bar; or you know, that you’re a wine god or something,”

Yoongi listened to your barely audible rant with an intrigued look on his face. He placed his face on his palm eyeing you.

“So, you think I’m too qualified to be a bartender, is that it?”

“Not really no; you could run this place for all I know…but then again, appearances are deceptive.”

“Yes they are,” He said suddenly and you eyed him, surprised at his proclamation.

“Uh, listen…this is going to sound really unprofessional but the place is winding down and I’m going to close in half an hour or so. If you want, you can sit at the back and we can…chat for a bit. I’ll let you out the back.” He offered.

You froze, considering what he was saying. There was no way he was actually offering just a ‘chat’. He had plans and you didn’t know if you were equipped to handle whatever he was going to dish out.

But then again, you did want to see if he had any tattoos or piercings…

A slow Cheshire grin spread across your lips. Yoongi’s eyes dropped down to your lips and sure enough, his own split, revealing a swipe of his tongue as he lapped at his drying bottom lip.

“Deal,” You whispered, only for him to hear.

Yoongi had been right. As the minutes passed, even the most inebriated of the patrons started to take their leave. They respectfully parted ways with their tables, the glasses and some even cheerfully greeted the second bartender, who’d already begun to clear the tables. You watched, now seated comfortably within the plush leather booth at the far back, as they stumbled on out. The booth was meant for the VIPs, you were told but since it was closing time, Yoongi didn’t think anyone would mind.

Now empty, the bar had a different atmosphere.

It was silent for now, aside from the small clinking of glass as the man who had been walking around the bar checked the bottles and cleaned and put away the glasses.

A light song rung out in the background, Yoongi walked back down from wherever it was that he had vanished to. At his appearance, the other man quietly slipped towards the back, letting Yoongi man the bar enough to make himself a drink. You watched him carry it to where you were sitting.

For now you were feeling sober enough to know what was going to happen sooner or later, and you were not one bit jittery about it. In any case, you could feel the tell tale pin pricks of excitement coat your arms and the back of your neck.

Yoongi sat down right next to you, setting a respectable distance between you while you watched him with hooded eyes.

You watched as Yoongi took a swig – the whiskey slipping past his pouty lips, coating them in a shiny glisten as he rushed his tongue out just after. His Adams apple bobbed, drawing your gaze to the slender, smooth column of his throat.

“So,” he spoke, your eyes flitting back to meet him as he turned, angling his body towards yours. “What does a job for a magazine columnist entail? I suppose it’s something to do with what you were doing with your phone before?” He asked.

You chortled at his inquisitiveness. “Yes, I was people watching. I can’t just give my readers some general idea about life. I’d be fired for treating our magazine for anything less than the first rate art that it is.”

Yoongi smirked. “You don’t think it is?” He asked.

You stopped, looking down at your glass, nearly empty now. “I think it’s wonderful. We’re open. We’re diverse. There’s a severe lack of good civic opinion out there and we offer that. I love my job. I love what I have to do to write my pieces.”

Yoongi was staring at you, deep thoughts lurking behind his too black eyes. “You’re making me want to get a subscription.” He teased and you laughed, finishing the drink and placing your now empty glass on the black table top. “What about you, what is your life like?” You returned his question.

Yoongi hummed, pensive as he continued to gaze at you. However, he didn’t look at you, as if he was far away in thought even while keeping his eyes on you.

“I don’t know what to say, I think. I get up in the morning; do what stuff that needs to be done, some leftover paperwork then come to work. I stay here till closing time then go back home. That’s pretty much it.”

“You make it sound so mundane.”

“It is but…it’s what I like. I love my job, like you. It’s a good routine.”

You nodded, looking around the bar again. “How long have you worked here?”

That took him a pause to answer, thinking his answer. “I’ve been here since it was opened.” He said.

Your eyes widened. “How long has that been?”

His lips twitched, hiding the growing smile behind the rim of his glass. “A good while, maybe five to six years; I’ve watched it grow.” He admitted.

“Wow,” you said awed. “That’s always a good thing to see, watching things grow.”

“It is; I had to start work pretty early in life. I didn’t get much of a college education or anything but well, you can still make something of yourself and this establishment is the peak of my existence.” He cast a small, fond smile around.

You smiled too, only at him. It was obvious, watching him and he adored this bar. The gleam of true appreciation made your belly flop.

“I admire you, Yoongi. There are always people who think that you can’t be anything without a degree and then there are people who achieve things in their life without it. It’s horrible how they are looked down upon. Between you and me, I think it’s the people who make something of their own lives without anyone’s help who are the best.”

You stopped, noticing Yoongi shift, leaning forward to put his glass down as well. He let his arm rest on the back of the booth, essentially caging you in.

“You’re probably the most intriguing person to walk through this bar, Y/N.” He placed a delectable point upon your name. It made you want to curl up.

“Are you going to do anything about that?” You asked quietly.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered over you, taking in the sin of a dress that you had on, trailing down to your legs to rest on the heels.

“I’m going to kiss you, if that’s okay.” He murmured.

You took a quick breath. Heat was already settling in your stomach, roiling when you managed to say, “Go ahead.”

Yoongi didn’t waste much time. Leaning all the way in, he left barely a breath’s distance away, letting his hot mouth hover just over yours, enticing you with the possibilities of everything he could do with it.

You let him complete the action, barely breathing yourself as he engulfed your mouth in his. The acrid taste of the alcohol rested on both of you, intermingling on your taste buds as you slipped him your tongue. It was a bold move but you thrilled when he reacted eagerly to it. Cupping one cheek in his hand, he moved over completely, all traces of space gone between you two.

He sucked in your tongue in his mouth, delicately embracing it with his own, engaging in a daring dance. You let your hands wind around his neck, inching towards the soft mass of hair at the base of his head. Yoongi parted from you for air, hair falling into his face, shading his eyes. His cheeks burned red and you could feel him radiating heat.

You shifted, maneuvering in the small space. Hiking a leg over his waist, you towered over him momentarily. Yoongi’s eyes were still half covered with his hair and you had no intention of brushing them out. He looked so sexy; you could already feel the seep of arousal from your core.

And the way he bit his lips while staring up at you, swollen lips open, you knew you’d have trouble walking tomorrow…

Yoongi placed his palms flat on your legs, letting them slide up. The fabric of your skirt hitched with his touch while your skin seared everywhere that he exposed. Reaching up till he was barely brushing the hem of your panties, he paused, letting you sit down exactly on to where he had been hardening.

You let out a soft whimper, Yoongi’s grip making sure you grinded on him, relieving pressure for him. He remained stoic – content to watch you fragment from his ministrations.

“I don’t know what you were expecting out of wearing this dress tonight, Y/N, but I can hope I can do it justice.” He growled finally.

You shook your head, rising back on to your knees again. “I didn’t expect anything. A girl just likes to look good once in a while,” You pointed out.

“And the shoes…?”

“Makes me feel like a goddess,” You muttered, distracted with the way he was blowing cool air onto your scorched skin.

“You do feel like one.” Yoongi agreed and you close your eyes, feeling him press a smirk to your skin. Laving a tongue across your collarbone, he reached the strap of your dress.

Yoongi allowed you to sit down once again, giving him further access as he dipped into the cleavage the dress generously offered you. Soft nibbles accompanied his fingers fiddling with the strap, tugging it off and down from your skin. He removed his mouth, watching you as you slid the other one off as well.

The dress was zipped at the back and you felt his hands trail over the fabric, squeezing the back of your neck lazily, grinning when you moaned.

“You like that, do you?” He asked, nodding to himself when you gave an appreciative hum.

He squeezed again, harder, letting you feel his nails rake the soft skin there barely before the other joined in the back, tugging at the zip tab.

“Wait,” you said, suddenly remembering that you were doing this in public – at a bar, no less. “Are you sure we’re alone?”

As hot as Yoongi was and as much as you were enjoying the feel of him against you, you didn’t want to be an unwitting subject to being caught having sex in his workplace. It would mean Yoongi being fired from his job that he loved so much.

Yoongi had already stopped, looking up at you in question. Your concern made him smile, genuinely, pressing softer, tender kisses to your jaw line.

“Yes, baby,” The endearment made you shiver in his hold. He angled your neck for his teeth next, grazing at the pulse point. “We’re alone. I sent Hoseok off to home.”

“You’re sure no bouncers or anything is going to come by?” You asked.

“The guard might come, but trust me; we’re not getting in any trouble.” He assured you, pulling away from you to look at you seriously.

You looked at him curiously. “Unless, you want to be…we can do something about that.” He suggested.

You laughed, his hands gripping onto your hips to buck you against him, trying to get the mood back. He returned to the zipper, pulling it all the way down to the small of your back, where his hand stayed – warm and calming.

You let your arms rest loosely, the front of the dress pooling around your chest, held up by nothing as it fell, baring you to Yoongi’s ravenous eyes.

“Fuck, they’re perfect.” He said, on the very edge of a growl as his hands shot out to grab onto the soft flesh. The sudden press made you keen, arching your back into his hands.

Yoongi’s touch was relentless, kneading your breasts, pulling at your nipples, tracing the sensitive underside before he was taking them in his mouth. His teeth – you noticed, he liked using them – were the first to meet the tender skin. His palms groped at your wildly while he suckled.

Your head fell back, hips rolling against his. Your underwear had become uncomfortable. The fabric was skimpy at best, and the flow of your juices had absolutely destroyed them. You were almost sure Yoongi could feel your wetness soaking through by now.

Yoongi released your nipple from his mouth with a lewd ‘pop’, mouth open as he pulled you into a messy kiss, wet and teeth clashing. You allowed him to delve fully into your mouth, reaching wildly for his hand. He gave it to you, still engrossed in kissing you, not pushing away until he felt you place it along the exposed skin of your thighs. He looked down, then back up at you; understanding the silent plea reflected in your blown out eyes.

“Ah, you want me to touch you, baby?”

You nodded haplessly, whimpering when Yoongi trailed his hand up, resting it right against your soaked panties, cupping you gently.

“You’ve ruined your panties.” He murmured, pushing the dress away to look at the tiny thing. “And such pretty ones too, I almost feel bad.” He gave you a wicked grin before he was dipping his hand in them, the material stretching around his wrist.

A long, finger entered you so abruptly, a long whine escaped you with no barriers. You had to grip on to Yoongi’s shoulders for support, unable to keep from buckling when he curled the digit.

“Such a wet, dirty girl; you lose it on only one finger?” Yoongi teased your entrance with another finger, his thumb barely grazing against the pulsating bud of nerves that cried for attention.

“Yoongi, please…I’m going to explode.” You were about near to screaming for him to help you but he shook his head.

“Not just yet,” He pulled away, leaving you gasping from the emptiness before lifting you onto the table. He let you sit, moving the glasses from before onto the next table before returning to sit in front of you again, eyes fixed to your core.

You leaned back on your elbows, watching him, panting as he raised the dress up as far as it would go, bunching around your waist and then pulled you to his mouth.

The loud moan that followed when Yoongi’s lip encircled and sucked onto your clit was so obscene, it would’ve caused a nun to curl her toes. Your previous fascination as to what Yoongi’s mouth could do was well rewarded while he lapped and laved around your pussy as if he was drinking directly from a fountain.

Two fingers stroked into your walls, in tandem to the slurping cause by his tongue, lapping away the traces of your arousal as fast as it came. Your hands moved, cupping your own breasts, playing with yourself when you saw his eyes fixed on your face. You smirked at him, unable to help yourself when you let your hand trail down to his head, fingers twining with his hair.

Your nails raked along his scalp, scratching lightly. That caused Yoongi’s eyes to close; tongue pressing into your entrance as he let out the filthiest moan you’d head, muffled by your wetness. You dropped to the table, both hands clutching Yoongi’s hair, keeping his mouth against you, riding out your high. It came in waves, rising and then crashing against you, drowning you in ecstasy. You ended in pants, eyes blinking away spots.

Hands ran up your legs, rubbing away tightened muscles and sore spots.

Yoongi got to his feet, leaning over you. Hands splayed on the either side of your waist he eyed you ferociously. His hair was stragglier; no doubt the result of your tugging and stuck up. But you could see his face now, especially his eyes, which were almost fully blown out.

“You,” he said lowly, color flaming high in his cheeks and voice barely controlled, “are the hottest thing I’ve ever come across.” He placed a hand on your sensitive flesh, a finger parting the lips as he studied you, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“You’ve made a mess, baby. Gushed out your sweet juices all across my table,” He commented, swiping the finger straight into his mouth. He groaned, eyes narrowing but staying steady on your face. You watched, entranced, each shift in his face before he was popping the finger out.

“You taste so good, Y/N. I’m going to have your taste on my tongue all night.” He told you.

You didn’t know if it was the high of the orgasm or just the basic Yoongi effect but you reached for him, sliding forward till he was standing between your parted legs.

Yoongi let you fumble with his pants, pulling his belt free from the loops, letting it fall free as you unzipped him. While sitting on him you had fairly anticipated his size but by god you were so curious, you had to see him naked.

And you told him as such…

“Take my clothes off?” He asked, snickering at you.

“Yes, come on, I want to see you naked.” You ordered firmly, already shoving his pants down to his ankles.

Yoongi obliged.

Taking a single step back, he gave you a final heated look before he was hooking his fingers under the hem line of his shirt, lifting it. He was teasing you, you knew, by the slowness and the distinct air of stripping in the air. He let the fabric caress each inch of his torso. His stomach, tightening from the flex, the chest, much broader than you had guessed.

His shoulders and arms weren’t muscled, showing the lack of strenuous exercise but while there were no muscles, there wasn’t flab either. Yoongi was a fit fucking god and you drooled.

Of course, there were no tattoos or piercings, anywhere…you even looked at his back as he turned to discard away his shirt and the rest of his clothes – underwear included.

Yoongi stood before you, gloriously naked and godly. He turned to look at you with full knowledge of your ogling and he reveled in it. Lips pulled into a smirk, eyes on the narrow side to make his pretty face look like it could cut steel.

Under the pretty packaging, Min Yoongi was a lethal man.

And you had never wanted a man so damn much in your whole life…

You grasped onto his hair, pulling him down into a kiss that made him stumble from its force. His hands wrapped around your waist, tugging you tighter against him.

A chill from the night air had seeped into the empty bar, making the heat radiating off your bodies and from your exertions all the more tantalizing. He panted against you, hot puffs of air landing on your own lips when he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Let me suck you off.” You said.

Yoongi grinned, nodding his acceptance before gently helping you off the table to stand in front of you. He wrapped a hand in your hair, a murmured ‘my turn’ making you tremble in his hold as you kissed down his body. You suckled near his navel, letting your mark bloom lavender against his pale skin.

He held your hand to help you kneel, the hardwood flooring under your knees sharpening your focus on the magnificent manhood in front of you.

Both of Yoongi’s hands were now in your hair, wrapping and pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. “Go on then, baby,” he encouraged.

You sighed, gripping onto his hips to nuzzle along his length. He smelled like citrus, maybe from the drinks he’d handled and garnished or his body wash but it was mouth watering. You wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking gently, getting used to the feel of his thick weight on your tongue.

Gradually, you moved further, widening your mouth and taking in more of his velvet hardness. You rubbed his skin, one hand stroking along the rest of his length. You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath before going all the way, holding yourself as you felt him breach your gag reflex.

Above you Yoongi cursed, a string of incoherent words following when you repeated the motion, finding joy when Yoongi’s grip on your hair tightened, holding you where you had stopped.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that? I might not let you go.” He warned, drawing your attention to look up at him.

Yoongi in this angle was heavenly. His hair was back to falling in his eyes but he was consciously blinking or shaking the strands away now, trying to look at you sucking him off. Color had drained from his face, probably aiding his erection but his lips were raw from being bitten and chewed upon. His chest heaved stomach tense and you had never felt more powerful kneeling in front of a man.

You could very possibly end him at this very moment and he would more than likely be happy about it.

So you stayed there, kneeling in front of him, watching him crumble with the suction you created around his hot length. You sent him a wink when you caught his eye and just as you had anticipated – he broke.

“Up, up, get on the table,” Yoongi had finally reached the point of growling. The hair he held, he used as reins to tug you up roughly and yet you relished in it, feeling him turn you around and push you to bend over the black table.

“You little minx, you enjoyed watching me nearly blow my brains down your throat.” He accused in a grunt and you could only laugh.

Your giggles continued in his search for a condom, rifling through his pockets till he found one; the sound of the packet ripping making your anticipation rise.

Interrupted with moans when he grabbed and squeezed with abandon; all the parts of you that he could reach – your tits, your hips, and the curve of your ass. He took full advantage, shoving the dress down till it was only circling your waistline.

“We’re keeping the shoes on.” He grunted in your ear.

He leaned back down, hand travelling down the outside of your thigh, pressing kisses down your spine, one at the edge of your rear, the inside of your thighs and one at the curve of your ankle. You groaned when you felt him part your folds again, his tongue running over the cooling flesh, igniting flames again.

He gripped onto your leg, admiring the trails of ribbons that held it up before pulling it up along with him as he stood.

He kept a tight hold on you, watching you teetering on the single shoe. He pushed your knee to brace on the table, still keeping his hands on you, balancing you before pressing up right against you.

His body stabilized yours, your hands using the table to anchor yourself against it. It was hard to stand on the single heel but Yoongi was soon pulling you back on to him, holding up most of your weight.

“So fucking hot,” He mumbled against the back of your neck just as you felt him push the head of his cock into your entrance.

The stretch of his cock burned so good, you didn’t even try to hide or curb the moan that fell from your lips. Back arching, your fingers clawed into the wood of the table and it was only just the first thrust.

Yoongi reared back, thrusting shallow, the angle making him rub tightly against your walls. His hands gripped on to the cheeks of your butt, holding you open so he could slide inside of you easily.

“It feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” He asked and even with your eyes closed, you could tell the edge he was tight lining on.

He sounded strained, almost at the brink of control.

“Yes, but you can go rougher.” You prodded, eager to feel him more.

“I can, indeed.”

In a split second, Yoongi was no longer considerate. An arm wrapped around your torso, palm at the base of your throat and fingers around your neck. His other hand snaked to the front, resting at your mound.

He still held up your weight but his pace went from shallow to deep, fast – brutal. Skin slapped against skin, his fingers strummed your clit mercilessly, playing a tune to match his rough rhythm.

You cried out, his name falling from you incessantly; as if a prayer, a call for retribution…you couldn’t tell. Very gently, you felt pressure increase near your windpipe.

You might have frozen, might have asked him what he was doing, but the uncontrollable coil in your core, his length battering into your cove and the harsh pressure on your nerves made you delirious with pleasure.

The lack of air made your eyes haze over and then, unbidden, floating in some sense of hypnotic plane. Only pleasure and the giver of it existed as you turned literal putty into his hands.

Then came, unbidden, Yoongi’s voice, a command: “Come for me, Y/N.”

You obeyed.

You couldn’t even scream. You couldn’t make any sound. You only came for Yoongi.

Body quivering and writhing in his hold, you arced against him, his head burying into your neck as he grunted, his own orgasm following as you clamped down on him. Impossibly tight and unable to stop himself further, Yoongi emptied himself into the rubber, sighing against your skin as if you were his only salvation.

You lay spread out on Yoongi’s table for how long, you had no idea. When you came down, Yoongi’s weight was still on you, warm and bracing. He was massaging your back, blowing warm air near your ear. You hummed, letting him know of your consciousness.

Yoongi craned his head, watching you blink twice to gain some semblance of composure. You could feel droplets collecting at the corners of your eyes and Yoongi quickly swiped them away with his thumb.

“Y/N, baby, how do you feel?” He asked voice calm and close to you.

You asked yourself the same question and smiled to yourself. “Fantastic, just fantastic…did I pass out?” You hedged.

Yoongi chuckled. “No, floated off a little…maybe a little like subspace but you were very much here. You were beautiful and brilliant.” He kissed your cheek.

You let him nuzzle into your skin, indulging in the aftercare.

Yoongi soon migrated to the seats, pulling you upright so he could pull the dress down your legs and up your chest properly. He leaned you against him, zipping you up before he got dressed himself.

You sat on the leather, watching him buckle his belt when the sound of approaching footsteps and keys made you both freeze.

The guard was here and you had just obviously had sex with Yoongi. There was no denying it. The scent of sex was palpable, the table was questionably messed up and both of you looked…well, fucked.

It took Yoongi only a second to recover and you prayed that his assurance for his job security was legitimate before the man walked in. Dressed in a grey uniform, he stopped, stuttering in his steps when he caught sight of Yoongi at one of the tables.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

Then –

“Boss,” the man said, surprised. “What are you still doing here?” He asked.

You flinched at the question before realizing something. Huh…boss…?

Yoongi carded a hand calmly through his hair, looking unconcerned. “I was just checking the stocks, Jungkook. It took me a long while so my…um, girlfriend came over to pick me up. I’ll be leaving now. Make sure to lock up behind us.”

“Girlfriend,” Jungkook mused, taking a look around before shrugging, apparently deciding it was none of his business. “I always do sir; have a nice night sir, ma’am.” He bowed politely and Yoongi grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the seat and quickly ushering you out of the back staff exit.

Yoongi and you emerged out into the parking lot, walking quietly till you had reached your car.

“You’re…the boss? You own this bar?” You broke the silence first, turning to Yoongi.

He nodded, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry for not telling you beforehand. I was going to tell you though, but Jungkook interrupted.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? You were making all those cryptic remarks.” You said, wrapping your arms around you. Why did you have to forget brining a jacket?

Yoongi moved closer to you, his closeness providing you some extra warmth. “I, well, you see, people behave differently to what you appear to be. I was short a tender today. It’s a lady, and her sister gave birth. She needed the day off and I worked her shift. You just…you caught my eye and you said all those things you don’t expect people to say. I just wanted to see if you would feel the same attraction to a bartender that most people feel for the Bar owner.” He rolled his eyes. “Sorry, it sounds stupid now that I say it out loud.”

“No, not really, its fine, I understand. What about inside, about the girlfriend, why would you say that?”

Yoongi snorted. “Well, I’m hardly going to say you’re a customer, am I? He’s a good cop, Y/N; he knew we just had sex in there. I’ll bet you anything he spends the night out or inside the staff room tonight.”

“Right, I hope he won’t be expecting to see me around on the regular then.” You turned to unlock your car.

“I was hoping you’d become one.” Yoongi said.

You smiled slyly. “For you or your bar…?”

Yoongi shrugged. “It’d be a double offer. Be mine and the bar’s going to be a regular anyway. Be a regular here and you’re bound to run into me.” He returned my smile.

You pretended to think about it. “Well, then, I’d say that first option sounds better.” You dropped a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, then.”

You slid into the driver’s seat, with Yoongi leaning in through the window.

“It’s a date.” He winked.

This work is a gift for the precious @yoonmochiiii !! Happy Holidays, lovely.

It was an amazing experience, being your (not so secret) Santa and getting to know you! I hope you enjoyed yourself and that you like your present! I hope we can be friends in the future as well and stay in touch!

Have a beautiful Christmas, and have a glorious, safe and bountiful New Year sweets!

#secretsanta2019 #btswriterscollective #smutcentralnet #yoonmochiiii #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi scenario #bts scenarios #yoongi #min yoongi #bts suga #bts #suga

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therem-harth · 3 years

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h h hewwo owoo 22 / 23 / 29 / 31 / 34 / 50 / 58 / 61 / 88 in any order, and u can also just. pick only those that u want :3

hhhh-ewwwo? I did say I wanted to chat and I desperately do not want to do work or studies so buckle in for a long post (derogatory). 22. role model? Oh man, I don’t think I have any, like, specific ones for entire things, though I do fall in my hero-worship phaes and then fall out of them like everyone else. I think that taking an entire person and being like I wanna be like them is... not for me though. But I do look up to some people for specific things - I look up to, weirdly enough, Abigail Phylosohpytube who I didn’t watch before her coming out for her graceful coming out video though she admits that the experience wasn’t obviously as smooth. I look up to lots and lots of people for their ability to create and their art (not gonna tag my fav artists bc am tiny and do not want people to look at me, but i do be reblogging). I look up to people like ConcernedApe Stardewvalley and Supergiantgames Hades for their ability to put so much soul in their work, smth I aspire to do. I look up to @not-poignant for, among other things, their idk how to say it best, wisdom in understanding and communicating with others and with myself? I’ve learned a lot by just sort of being in their periphery and seeing how they articulate their thoughts and choose to be kind and witness other’s pain. Hell, I look up to twitch streamers and youtubers sometimes (the recent nice trait I’d like to have if I ever went into bigger content production is how ibxtoycat deals with parasocial relationship realities). 23. strange habits? Hm. I don’t think drinking tea whenever I need a pick-me-up is strange, that’s just probably forcefully assigning a British nationality to me. I think my insistence on misspelling words in a way I think is lowkey funny might be one, I say thamks bc it feels softer, or thank bc it’s funny, I say sleeb, I say finkers or tryink or otherwise replace g with k for lulz. I also don’t know if it counts as a habit but I have a small leather band around my wrist that’s been there for a year soon. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm I probs have like, stranger habits but I can’t recall rn. 29. best way to bond with you? Hmm. Well, if you show initiative and are explicit about wanting to spend time with me, that’s already a big chance of me spending time with you. And then if our interests match and I don’t think that you’re like, young in a way that automatically puts me in a position where I don’t feel comfortable really being myself around you bc in my head I have to look out for you (it has happened with two of my friends, sigh), and we regularly spend time together, voila, friend acquired. It simultaneously doesn’t take much and takes a bit to be my friend and bond with me - it’s easy af to become a casual friend cuz I’m always open to new people, but there has to be a level of trust to become like, a close friend. Respecting my boundaries, talking shit with me, being explicitly committal about wanting to bond with me are big steps that way. 31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? Uh, I don’t do neither, but a current fave that is reasonably badass is my black tshirt with like, a ritual circle and a deer skull. V edgy, 10/10. I also used to have like a real edgy tshirt with a jester and some dice that said the game of life, but I threw it out bc dysphoria. or maybe I put it at the back of my closet along with one other shirt In Case I Get Top Surgery so I can wear them then. 34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? Many, such is the nature of advertising, alas. I have managed to avoid most of it tbh though, so the only place I am forced to sit through ads so they stick is my scrabble capitalist nightmare app where I play and always beat haha my coursemate. And they have adds for those shitty apps where you have to solve a puzzle that ends up failing in the add and like, drenching a man in green goo. I find those kinda fascinating tbh. Who plays these games? Who plays these shitty shitty games whose ad has to be “prove your IQ“ to make you want to prove yourself to play them? Oh and also, the insidious nature of ads in media I consume - the mcelroys have gotten me informed about many many things bc they do it in a funny way. Have you heard about squarespace? What about meundies? I also literally installed honey yesterday that I knew abt bc of the relentless adds and I wanted to save, uh, 2.50 from my minecraft server purchase (and then spent some time googling how they make money before giving up. just say u sell my data, that’s easier than not knowing what part of this makes you money). I was tired and in a weird mood, ok. 50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? It’s always the stupidest jokes, what matters more is laughing together with someone and getting caught in a laughing loop. I still remember laughing with my siblings until our stomachs really really hurt bc I think one of us said a rug was vomit-colored and it was funny in the moment. How many times have I laughed like that with you too, vit. I know that Laura’s one is nostrilatu, right? :D :D It’s just something that catches you off guard, I think.

58. four talents you’re proud of having? Oh shid. Hm. 1) My ability to analyze data and understand the basic building blocks of something. Makes me cool at studying and sexy at explaining things to my course-mates. 2) Not a talent more like a skill that I’ve worked hard on through therapy - but my inner positive voice/healthy parent is very strong and automatic (something I was sure would never happen). A good example is me going out for a walk, my phone dying so I can’t listen to music, when I went in my head “well I can always make music in my head. do-do-do *drum sound*“ and I could feel the wave of self-reprimand cresting but before I could actually hear any negative comments the positive voice said with a light of a thousand suns NO THAT IS ACTUALLY CUTE AND SEXY and just haaaaaaah. 3) I sing good. Need to sing more. 4) I think I’m good at making conversation. Even with people I don’t necessarily like or want to talk to. More of a skill again but whatever. 61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? Do not come to me and ask for favorites, witch. Uh, I have some quotes in my notes app, like 7 from Pia’s writing :D. But imma go with “It’s a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world“ by Mary Oliver. It counts, ok. Or, wait, something I will for real one day either crosstitch of commission shitpostcalligrapher: “t’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something. “What are we holding onto Sam?” “There’s good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.“” 88. your greatest wish? Hrm. Right now? To have like a couple days with no responsibilities and without the outside world bearing on me as heavily, to be tiny tiny tiny so I’m invisible and can drink tiny tea on a tiny leaf. Uh, in general? My recently formulated wish or a goal is stability/peace. Then everything else becomes ok because you can bounce back to stable ground between feeling shit or everything happening so much. And I’ve sort of reached that. Also like, half a million euros would be nice too so I can get a house and a car and go on a few trips abroad. :D // there’s two ask memes in my blog recently, go wild

#long post #derogatory #personal #i think the wish to be tiny was there more last week #now i just wanna have nice things and fun and a bit of rest but am otherwise less overwhelmed #also hey. talks #chats

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