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queenoftheworldisdead · 3 years

Note

I have a request with dark prompts and tropes/ kinks from the list.

The Dialogues:

“Please, I have to get home.”

“Don’t move a muscle.”

Tropes:

Stalking/obsession

Kidnapping

(With the character Andy Barber)

Thank you in advance.

Hard day's night

Warning: 18 + Only, dark theme, kidnapping, choking, bondage, non-consent, dubious consent, forced fingering, cream-pie

Note: hope you enjoy

Dark Andy x Reader

The parking garage was partially empty compared to when you first arrived to work. Your heels echoed off the cement garage walls as you searched for where you parked. Some days you were lucky to park on L3 the prized spot closest to the ground, but today you were late and in your hurry you couldn't remember if you were on L5 or L8.

With the car fob in hand you press the unlock button. The familiar beep signaled that you were further away than you anticipated.

*Honk

The loud car horn from behind had you jumping out of your skin and screeching at the top of your lungs. With your heart hammering in your chest you turned only to be immediately blinded by the car behind you.

Blocking the light with your hand, you realized you were wondering in the middle of the driving path. "Sorry" you shouted back, moving over to allow them to pass you.

The black sedan creeped up and idled beside you. You clutched your purse and moved over closer to the side as the window rolled down. You didn't have mace, but you were sure your purse was heavy enough to wheeled as a weapon.

"Sorry I scared you" Andy leaned over, smiling as he looked up at you. It was slightly jarring seeing him like that. He had been extremely combative towards your boss during the deposition, each session ending in a screaming match.

Mr. Thomas, the defense attorney you paralegal for, had always been mild tempered. The objections during Mr. Thomas's cross drew an ire that you had never witnessed before. It was as if he sought to provoke him on purpose. Tempers were so high that Judge Peters threatened both sides with contempt, forcing several recesses to cool them off.

A process that normally lasted a few hours somehow turned into three grueling days of high tensions and long nights going over transcripts.

"Sorry I was in the way. I forgot where I parked." You jiggled your keys, almost embarrassed.

"Get in I'll help you find it. It's really late and you shouldn't be walking alone in the garage like this."

The offer was nice, but getting into the car of opposing console would surely be frowned apron at your firm.

You were about to protest when he unlocked the passenger door. With a sigh of defeat you got inside. Thankfully Mr. Thomas parked in reserved parking on the lower levels. Far from the general parking on the upper floors that you used.

"I assume your late because of me" he laughed lightly as he slowly drove on.

"Yeah its safe to say you are correct" you dryly chuckled as you hid low in the seat. The garage was slightly empty, but you didn't want to take the chance of being seen as doing something inappropriate. Idiot why did you get in the car?

Aside from him being apposing console Mr.Barber made you feel uneasy. During the hours long deposition you would feel a weird tingle, that made you look up from your notepad only to look up and lock eyes with the DA. You shrugged it off as an intimidation tactic used to get under the skin of the opposition.

---

Clicking your fob again you listened for your car, but somehow you were now further than you were originally. "Oh gosh can we turn back? I think I' m further up."

Andy nodded as he continued down the path. The signs above indicating 'More parking turn left' and 'Exit turn right'.

"Why are you still here?" You questioned him as you searched. The deposition ran long, but it ended hours ago.

"Oh.." He said caught off guard as he made a right turn toward the exit. "I spotted an old colleague John Wilson. We chatted for a bit, didn't and realize how late it was until the old ball and chain called."

Your office had a few former district attorneys. Most left the DA's office for the more lucrative life of defense.

"Um Mr.Barber.. you needed to make the left to go back into the garage." You pointed back when Andy made the right turn toward the garage exit.

"You know I'm impressed by your professionalism." Andy ignored and continued down the wrong path. "Thomas is lucky to have you on his team" he explained as he rolled to a stop behind a car inline to exit.

"Um thank you." You shifted in your seat at the impromptued complement. You hadn't done anything special or out of the ordinary. You just took notes like any other paralegal would.

Was he head hunting you? You heard about big firms doing stuff like that, but not for paralegals that were a dime a dozen.

Andy made no effort to change course and you felt increasingly uncomfortable as he inched closer to the exit.

"Um...you know I will just get security to escort me to my car from here." You pointed at the man in the glass box guarding the exit. "Thank you" you reached over to touch the door handle and heard an immediate click of the lock snapping shut.

"Don't move a muscle." You froze at his command.

"I wouldn't get out if I were you." He warned glancing at the rear-view. "Your boss might frown at you getting out of the apposing consoles car."

Stiffly you turned to peak over your seat, a cold chill fell over your body at the sight of Mr. Thomas car waiting in line behind Andy's in the queue. If you got out now you would be in deep shit. You slunk down low in the seat, in a veiled effort to hide. You shouldn't have gotten in this car. What the hell were you thinking?

"Come work for me" Andy casually grabbed his ticket to feed to the machine as he rolled to a stop. So this was just a job offer? If that was the case you were sure there were better ways to go about it. You had a nice chemistry with the old defense attorney and you were not interested in the stress of the DA's office or the pay cut you were sure to get.

"Um I'm not looking for a new job." You rejected him nervously. Hoping he would turn around and let you out.

"At least here my offer."

It seemed as you had no choice in the matter as he proceeded to pull out onto the road.

Your lips pressed into a frown. If you placate him, maybe he would let you go. He was a DA after all he wasn't going to hurt you tried to convince yourself.

"Fine, what is it?"

---

"Come work for me and I don't charge you with witness tempering"

Your eyes went wild at the allegation. "What!"

A lot of firms were dirty, but yours was not one of them. The cases you handled with Mr. Thomas didn't even rise to that level. At most he handled cases of over zealous brokers, financial fraud cases or embezzlement. The only time you ever came in contact with a witness Mr.Thomas was there with you. And even if it did you would never take penitentiary chances to get a leg up on the competition.

"Don't worry it's not true. I know your a good girl" he glanced over at you with a smirk. The praise graded you as you sat still stunned. "But that won't stop me from charging you. I'm willing to bet that until you get yourself untangled from the mess I am going to make of your life, your boss and his associates wouldn't think twice about letting you go."

You stared at him in disbelief. You barely said two words to this man, yet he was ready to blow up your life. And for what? For you to work for him? "And from what I know of paralegal salaries I would bet you could afford a public defender at best."

"Mr. Thomas would defend me" you scoffed.

"I wouldn't count on it. Because I would take him down too if he tried." He was serious.

You fell back on the seat as your head swam with the madness. You tried to think what you could've done to bring this on.

You had been to the DA's office a handful of times so when you saw the familiar building in the horizon you shrunk further in the leather seat.

Andy pulled into a reserved parking spot as the clock crept closer to midnight.

You didn't belong here. Maybe if you got out you could run for it. Make a mad dash somewhere and call the cops. But what would you say? The DA threatened you with a job, kidnapped you and took you to his office? They would think you were insane.

"Let's start your interview." He announced as he killed the engine. You pursed your lips and frowned deeply.

You were being made to interview for a job you didn't want nor ask for.

“Please, I have to get home.”

Andy paid you no mind, slamming the door in the face of your plea. Your eyes followed him as he headed toward the stone steps to the building.

What did he expect for you to do? Show up tomorrow at your office and sit on prosecutions side? You doubted the judge nor your boss would allow that to fly.

You watched him as you stayed paralyzed in the car. This had to be a joke or a dream. Had you slipped in the parking garage earlier and bumped your head. You tried pinching yourself to snap out of it only to be disheartened by the gravity of this situation.

---

Andy led you down the empty hallways, until he stopped at a door that bared his name.

You stood back while he unlocked it and motioned you to go inside. You couldn't move, dread cemented you in place. It was a miracle he had got you to come this far.

Andy tsked and shook his head in disappointment as he walked inside.

You tried to play back every encounter, every word you could've uttered that could've spearheaded this, but there was nothing.

You would've been surprised if he even knew your name, you couldn't even recall it being mentioned during the depositions.

While you drowned in despair Andy shimmed out of his blazer, tossing it on a chair off to the side.

"You're wasting your potential with Thomas" Andy declared, perching himself on the edge of his desk.

"I can tell your very focused and career driven." He continued on. It was surreal, watching him unbutton and roll up his sleeves. Like a disappointed father ready to reprimand their child.

"I noticed it from the start." The anticipation of what was to come became too much under the weight of his stare. You hugged yourself defensively while warm Tears streamed down your cheek.

It was as if he were a wolf ready to swallow you whole. You squeezed your eyes shut unable to hold his stare.

"Eyes on me" he said firmly. You sniffed uncontrollably as you forced them back open. "Good girl" Andy praised, adjusting his cock. He delighted in this, wetting his bottom lip, reveling in your discomfort.

"With a little more discipline and guidance you will reach your full potential. And I want to help you do that" Andy grunted as he loosened then knot of his tie.

Andy stayed sat before you unmoved by your tears as he slipped the fabric from around his neck, pulling it taunt with one hand while wrapping it around the other.

"You just need a firm hand to mold you. Or you can stay out there and watch as I turn your world upside down."

What could you say? He had you where he wanted you. You held your head low, sobbing to yourself as you approached him. You were no match for the power of the DA's office.

Andy rose from his perch and circled you like a shark with blood in the water. "Hands behind your back." He whispered into the shell of your ear. You looked back at him eyes wet with tears pleading. He sighed disappointed again taking matters into his own hands. You whimpered as he pried your hands from their hold, forcing them behind your back.

"Please Mr. Barber " you chanted as he encompassed your wrist with the tie. Knotting it so tight you feared for the circulation of your hands.

---

Andy's firm body pressed against you, his arms wrapped around you, roaming your body freely. The fabric of the tie burned as you struggled to free yourself. He ripped open your cheap blouse with ease, groping your breast over your bra. You withered in his embrace, unable to fight back.

"You made it hard to concentrate" he hummed into your neck while he played with your hard nipples over the fabric. The heat of his breath and the kneading of your breast electrified the coil that tightened in your core.

You tried to crouch into your shoulders, but Andy cupped your chin harshly. Forcing you to expose your neck to him and endure his assault. You went rigid when his other hand started to trail down your abdomen, tunneling past your waistline in desperate pursuit of your mound.

"Sitting so quiet, taking notes."

Your tears glazed Andy's hand as he forced you to look at him as he plunged beneath the elastic of your panties. His eyes clouded with lust at the sight of your facial contortions. Your clit buzzed as his fingers moved over it. You clamped your thighs tightly around his palm in an effort to stop further intrusion, but he pressed on. Rubbing firmly against your mound repeatedly, sparking an unwanted warmth. You felt shame and guilt as heat pooled in his hand.

"Hmmm so ready to be my perfect little helper." Andy purred.

"Are you ready to be molded by me" he teased. Andy pushed his fingers inside of you, releasing a gasp you could not contain.

"Fuck you're so tight" Andy cursed in your ear while he fingered you.

You bit down on your lip to stop the moan trapped in your throat. The embarrassing wetness, the involuntary moans, it was as if your body no longer belonged to you. Andy manipulated you like a puppet on a string.

You exhaled deeply when he pulled his fingers from you and released your neck. You panted from the over stimulation.

He built up a need and left you cradling on the edge. Without warning Andy spun you by the shoulder to face him.

"Look at you my needy little helper. Ready to learn." He smirked at you.

Your eyes went wide when he began unfastening his belt. You didn't want to find out what he would use that for. Your flight response started to kick into high gear as he closed the space between you.

Reflexively you took a step backwards, almost stumbling to the floor when you tripped on the leg of the chair behind you.

There was no way out of the room without going past him. You doubted you would get far even if you tried. The back of your legs hit his desk, halting your movements.

"Gonna be my perfect little helper?"

You opened your mouth to finally scream, but Andy swiftly rushed you. The grip on your neck felt deadly as you croaked. He leaned his weight on you, tipping you over until you slammed hard on his desk.

Whatever trinkets he had on his desk dug into your back and arms painfully. Andy wedged himself between your thighs, and haphazardly fumbled with his pants. Pushing them down with one hand as he kept you pinned with the other. You bucked and squirmed when you felt his need pressed on your pelvis.

Your skirt had rode up past your waist leaving your thin panties the last line of defense.

"Don't do this please Mr. Barber please I'll work for you please." Choked out incoherently.

You bucked more feverishly when he yanked your panties to the side. The tip of his cock lined up against your entrance.

"That's it. That's my good little helper. So wet for me." Andy praised as his sunk into you as he kept a firm hold on your neck. Your pussy pulsed around him as you strained to adjust. He made you painfully full.

Andy lifted up your left thigh, allowing himself to sink deeper. The added weight of him on top of you married with the pain from your arms.

His focused grip on your neck helped muffle your mewls, but not the sloppy sounds of your cunt. You turned away from his face as he rolled his hips into you. Only to be met with the smiling faces of his family. The facade of his wholesome life seemingly entrained by your predicament.

"Perfect little cunt fits me so well."

Your pussy clenched with every praise to your shame. There was no way to bite back the need he fed deep within you. Your stomach tensed as a staggered moan fell from your mouth.

Your feet curled in the air as your thighs squeezed around him. You felt of mix of shame and disappointment as you came around his cock.

Loosening his grip on your neck Andy could no longer hold himself back. He filled you to the brim, his seed seeped out of you as you milked him dry.

He laid on you briefly, panting heavily before pulling off. Carefully adjusting himself as he watched his cum drizzle down your raw cunt. "Get yourself cleaned up. We have cross in a few hours."

#Dark Andy Barber x Reader #Dark!Andy!Barber x Reader #Dark Andy x Reader #Dark!Andy x Reader #Dark!Andy!Barber x Black!Reader #Dark!Andy!Barber x Black Reader #Dark Andy Barber x Black!Reader #Dark Andy Barber X Black Reader #Dark!Andy x Black!Reader #Dark Andy x Black Reader #Dark Andy X Black!Reader #black writer #asked and answered

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swcetnight · 3 years

Text

It’s Definitely You || kth (m.) 1

synopsis:

Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.

masterlist here

→ pairing: taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)

→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))

-> warnings: self doubt, adorable plant names... there's really not many warnings for this chapter!

→ word count: 7,973

authors note:

alrighty everyone... here we go! (i’m so nervous) this is the first chapter of this series (which it took me 50 years to figure out whether I wanted this to be a series or a two shot... lets just say that it's gonna be a long one, so I think that a series is the best way to go)! this story is really near and dear to my heart, so 1. I really hope you enjoy it and 2. I hope all of you know how hard it was to write this into words... my goodness. now, make sure you look for clues throughout this series... there's a secret in here that won't be revealed for a while ;)) but if any of you have ideas, please be sure to send an ask while we wait to find out together! anyways, I hope you enjoy !!

authors thanks:

a HUGE thank you to @hantaev and @monvante for beta-reading and being so so supportive of me and this little (but not so little) story... y'all truly have no idea how helpful you've been and how thankful I am to be friends with both of you! forreal, y'all are the greatest and I'm sending you all my love!!

also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you 🤍

If time-travel existed, you would be on the first time machine and head back to 2 years ago. A time when you had a free schedule and were able to go out on Friday nights. A time when you felt confident in yourself and were raring to pursue theatre. A time when you didn't have this job (cause apparently, theatre is impossible to get into) that forces you awake at 4 in the morning for the opening shift.

You can't say you don't love your Barista job because you do. Still, when your alarm wakes you from the beautiful dream of performing on the big stage, you have to use everything within yourself to crawl out of your sheet cocoon… and that is unacceptable.

What's even more unacceptable is the fact that your co-worker, Jimin, hasn't arrived at the Academia Cafe yet. You have about 30 minutes to prepare for the morning peak; brew coffees, set up the bakery items, clear the boards "coffee of the day," etc. The problem is, it takes up all of the 30 allotted minutes— and you can't start prepping early because Jimin has the keys to the cafe.

You’ve worked at the Academia Cafe for about a year now, taking a break from your endless theatre audition schedule— since that was getting you absolutely nowhere. No matter how badly you want it, nothing seems to work. No matter how many times you practice, it never seems to be good enough. Let’s just say, you took this job at the cafe because you were over the repetitive let downs.

… But here you are, with a “Jimin being late” let down.

[To: Jimin ☕️] hey, you almost here? times ticking, keys!

You stuff your phone into your winter coat pocket, the brown material catching snowflakes as they fall gently from the cloudy sky. You love this weather; it's always been your favorite. When you were little, you used to pretend to be a dragon; running all over your front yard and releasing heavy breaths that chilled in the air and spread like smoke. You don't enjoy the cold, but the entire feel of winter has you cozying up in a blanket with hot cocoa and a good book… nothing could beat that.

A buzz in your pocket catches your attention.

[From: Jimin ☕️] Hey! Look up.

Your eyes immediately lift to see Jimin smiling a few feet away, shuffling through the snow as he drags the keys out of his pocket. He's sporting a heavy blue coat that reaches down to his knees — making his short stature appear even smaller — topped with a matching blue beanie. Despite his tardiness today, you’ve always been fond of Jimin. He's like a ray of sunshine, beaming through the skyscrapers of the city and making everyone around him happy just by flashing a single smile. Honestly, you wish you could sneak some of that happiness from him and lock it somewhere safe... so you can save it for a time when you need it most.

"Your timing is impeccable." He laughs, gently placing the keys into the front door lock. "You texted me right as I was rounding the corner."

"I'm telling you, Jimin; we're always on the same wavelength." Smirking, you make your way through the doors of the cafe, greeted by the warmth that surrounds you like your sheet cocoon did this morning, but accompanied by the smell of fresh coffee. "Except for the fact that you, my friend, are late, so now we only have twenty-eight minutes until opening."

Old, rustic book pages litter the cafe's dark walls, executing the dark academia theme flawlessly. You have to give the interior designers a hand, what with the black stools and high dark wood counters etched with different story pages. You wonder if anyone took the time to read the stories that covered the cafe; maybe the stories moved them in a personal way. Maybe there was a reason why they read them, a part of the butterfly effect of their life.

With a quick survey of the main room, you shuffle into the back to put your belongings away. "You would think it would be less busy on the streets because of the snow," Jimin calls, already working on the first batch of light roast coffee. "But unfortunately for me, that was not the case, and I nearly lost my life multiple times on the way here because of how slick it is."

A laugh emits from your lips, echoing in the backroom as you throw your apron over your head.

You begin with date labeling all of the pastry items, placing them accordingly onto the pastry cart; croissants, muffins, scones, etc. Then, you move onto organizing syrups and setting toppings along the bar where drinks are made. Bar is your personal favorite position-- since you're able to make the drinks… Plus, you're so busy that your shift goes by way faster. The sooner you're done, the sooner you get to go home and sleep.

“All set?” Jimin questions when you finish setting the steaming pitchers next to the espresso machine, tossing the rag he used to wipe down tables into the sanitizer bin. You give him a nod, taking a quick once over of the bar. “Alright,” he claps, “let's do this.”

This morning runs like every Friday morning, busy and fast. The sounds of coffee glasses clinking and the calling of customer names at the hand-off station echoes through the air.

Ahhhh, the scenery in coffee shops; the quiet hush over the room as soft jazz plays over the speakers. It’s soothing, all encompassing, and extremely helpful for motivation… You used to go to a local cafe for homework when you were still in school.

You take a breath, relaxing against the back counter as you overhear a conversation a group of regulars are having. It’s the usual small talk: the weather, families, sharing pictures of recent events. Coming up with questions of the day for customers becomes easier after knowing their stories, so you subconsciously listen in often.

Because of this, you almost don't notice the man waiting at the register, wholly delved into the neighboring conversation— only looking over when you hear your name called.

"Y/n?"

You turn your head, catching eyes with the stranger behind the counter who holds his credit card ready. The first thing you notice is that he's young, probably around your age, wearing a brown turtleneck and white slacks. His eyes are dark, standing above his perfectly sculpted nose and lips. His hair is dark as well, forehead drowning within the wavy bangs that fall over his eyebrows as he takes you in. To be completely honest, he's probably the most handsome man you've had the pleasure of seeing… is that weird? You don’t know him… maybe that is weird.

The second thing you notice is that he looks completely anxious, hands grasping the edge of the counter like there's a thousand-foot drop below him. Why is he looking straight at you while doing that? Maybe you should call Jimin to take ove-

“Is it really you?” He questions, taking you aback.

"I-" You clear your throat, walking forward to meet him at the register, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

With an intake of breath, he releases the counter as he studies you. Was he… crying? You swear his eyes were not this bloodshot three seconds ago.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?...possibly.

You shake your head slightly, “I… I’m sorry. I don't-"

Wait… is he a regular? You swear you haven't seen him come into the cafe before. Shoot.. What if he is? The number one thing your boss has made perfectly clear: remember the regulars, so they come back and feel at home; recognized. Customer connection was the most important thing at the Academia Cafe… He's probably a regular.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

He's staring at you. Full-on staring, jaw slacked. Shifting uncomfortably in your keds, you eye beside you to see Jimin working away at a macchiato. You consider changing places, nearly walking over to him before the customer speaks again.

"It's- It's Taehyung."

You force a smile, nodding while he continues to stare at you. He seems a bit more hesitant, his eyes looking in different directions but ultimately falling back onto your own. Even if he tried, he couldn't hide the rosy color that spreads onto his cheeks. What was this guy's problem?

"Taehyung! Awesome, well, what can I get for you today?" You chirp, attempting to brighten up your increasing discomfort. He might have mistook you for someone else, you decide, jumping back into your customer service personality: kind and quick to the point.

Taehyung doesn't move, training his eyes on you. You've never had a man's undivided attention before, since boyfriends were never an option. When you were a teenager, you stayed home most of the time in your hometown, and the boys there were all just in it to take your pants off. You avoided them and never really caught their attention, so you can't help the uncomfortable blush that grows on your cheeks. It’s short lived though, your nerves dissolving as soon as you notice a single tear fall onto the front of his shirt.

Oh. Okay, he’s definitely crying.

"Sir..." You begin, leaning in closer to avoid drawing attention. "Is everything alright?"

"I…" The shake in his voice is evident as he puts his credit card back into his wallet, still refusing to break eye contact. “Excuse me." Without another word, he turns on his heel and rushes towards the exit, clocking a customer in the shoulder in his rush. He apologizes quickly, bowing to them before glancing behind to make eye contact with you once more.

You wish you could read minds, wondering what the hell is going through his brain… but you notice the tiniest gleam of a hopeful smile that hides on his lips.

And then he’s gone.

“I swear it was the strangest thing, Jimin.” You speak nervously, tugging at the strings of your apron and lifting it over your head. It had been busy all day, despite a quick thirty minute break when everyone had left and the cafe was suddenly a deserted island. You appreciated the busyness, it made your shift go by faster. Right now, all you wanted to do was go home, eat a fat bowl of icecream and distract yourself from the events of today with a movie. Thank God your shift was over.

“Maybe he thought you were someone else?” Jimin insists, taking a bite into the extra Blueberry Muffin you’d accidentally heated when you were distracted by the events that occurred earlier.

“Yeah? Well, I must be the spitting image because he was totally freaked out.”

“You never know, y/n. Or, maybe he just used that as an excuse to talk to you.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, throwing your rolled up apron at him harshly before you grab your belongings.

“Ha, ha, you’re hilarious. This guy looked like he had seen his ex… He was crying. I don’t think he was into me.”

“Maybe his eyes were watering from the cold wind?” He offers.

“Enough to cry actual tears?” You scoffed, “C’mon Jimin.”

He shrugs defensively, picking up his things so the two of you can head out a few minutes earlier than usual. Whenever the baristas have a chance to leave early, they take it. “If he comes back, then ask him: hey, dude, what’s your deal?”Jimin works his way through the cafe, throwing an excess chair upside down onto the table with the rest of them.

You hold your hand above your heart, which is still beating at a faster pace due to this discussion. Can hearts even beat this fast? This can’t be healthy… “Oh wow, you have such a way with words. That definitely won’t make him feel uncomfortable!”

Yes. Sarcasm coping mechanism.

“Y/n.” Jimin meets you at the door and puts his hands on your shoulders, making extra sure he has your attention. “Go home. Don’t think too much into it… He was probably high or something and mistook you for his ex that dumped him and now he’s moping through the city and getting into all sorts of trouble and he’ll forget that he even came here tomorrow morning. Okay?”

You nod slowly, exiting the cafe with Jimin on your tail. "Don't worry, y/n." Jimin adds, "He probably won't even come back." He locks the door and gives you one last thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction, calling out at the last second. “See you tomorrow!”

The forced smile on your face appears again (looks like this was a regular occurrence today), waving him goodbye.

Yeah… tomorrow.

Jimin was right. The handsome crying stranger was probably never coming back.

It has been a few weeks since you met him for the first time. Now, it feels like a distant memory. He hadn’t shown up to the cafe the day after the encounter, or the day after that, or the day after that, and eventually you’d come to the conclusion that he was probably never going to show his face again out of pure embarrassment. You can’t say you blame him. You’d be embarrassed too if you stared at and cried over a random stranger.

Still, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment... You'd kind of hoped you could figure out what his problem was, maybe ease his mind a little if you really did look like a past lover. You would make sure he knew that it wasn't you. What if he was avoiding the cafe because he literally thought you were someone else? Great… now you just feel bad.

"Y/n? Are you listening?" Jimin beckons over the phone.

"Huh? What?" You bounce back to reality, the soft comforter of your bed lying beneath you as you stare out the window. Thanks to your wonderful apartment search, you have a beautiful view of the city. Jimin had helped you find a place when you first moved here. The two of you had met when you visited to check out the first apartment options; he even took you out for a drink afterward to celebrate the first days' completion. Jimin had immediately clicked with you, as he does with everyone-- he was the kind of person to make friends insanely quickly. He must've been super popular in high school... unlike you.

"Y/n Y/l/n. I am giving you a chance to meet more people, and you're not even listening to me!" He cries, a light smack coming from the other end (probably from him slamming his hand on the table).

"Okay, okay-- I'm sorry. I'm listening now; what's up?"

With a deep sigh, he speaks again. "Party. My house. Tonight. It's not gonna be wild, don't worry... it's just a get-together with some of my friends, and you can have a few drinks if you would like to."

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you look over towards the clock on your nightstand. 5:00. "I don't know..." You begin, the bed shifting as you raise into a seated position. "I have to work tomorrow morn-"

"Already got your shift covered." He deadpans.

"What??"

"I already got your shift covered, so you have no excuse."

This sly guy.

"Who covered it?" You question, setting the audio to speaker-phone as you rummage through old text messages you haven't gone through (to prep for your "thank you for covering my shift" text message).

“Jin.” Noted.

“So…” Jimin continues, “are you coming?”

You can't even remember the last time you met new people, let alone gone to a party. Parties weren't necessarily your thing, especially with your busy schedule of workdays and auditions-- you just never had the time. You should be excited, right?

Well, you aren't.

"Jimin, I don't know… I'm not really a huge fan of parties." You mumble over the phone, picking at the lone string that popped out of its stitch on your comforter.

"Y/n, it's a small get-together, and it's not gonna be that kind of party. Believe me; it'll be really chill. It's just me, you, a few other coworkers, and some friends from my journalism class."

You chew at your bottom lip, looking over at your closet to see a single green cocktail dress that you hadn't worn in years. The memory of the dress was a good one… you had just finished up curtain call for The Addams Family and wore that dress to the after-party. It's a short sleeve, layered green dress that flows just over your knees, the same color sash tying the waist in a floppy bow. You blush at the memory of winning best dressed.

A pause, “Okay.” You conclude. “I’ll go.”

Jimin was honest about how chill it would be; soft music plays in the background as the group sits around the table playing cards. A basketball game is playing on the TV, desperate for attention as a player scores a 3-pointer, but no one is watching. Shuffling of cards is the only sound heard in the room as the game continues.

The atmosphere is calm… quiet…

“BULLSHIT.”

The immediate crumble of everyone’s mood causes the loud “HELL YEAH” that makes you jump in your seat.

"And that is how it's done, Ladies and Gentlemen." Jungkook (your fellow coworker) claps, his smile brighter than the sunset that seeps through the curtains on the opposite side of the room.

"And that's on cheating!" Jimin picks up the cards in the center of the table, gathering them clumsily back into a pile.

"It's called having skill," Jungkook replies, holding his hands up as he smirks at his opponents.

"No, it's called luck." Yoongi finalizes as he puts his hand of cards down on the table with a roll of his eyes. You haven’t met Yoongi before until tonight. He’s one of Jimin's friends from Journalism Class.

When you arrived, you decided to sit out of this round and learn to play before joining the game-- knowing you; you would've been crushed within the first minutes of playing. Card games weren’t exactly a skill of yours— board games on the other hand were where it’s at! That, and charades. For the sake of the party, a card game didn’t sound too bad this time around— so you poke at Jimin to give you the hand as he serves cards for everyone else.

“Wait, wait, wait—“ Jimin pauses, his hand disappearing beneath the table to grab his phone. “Hello?”

“I’m not Irish, so does luck really count?” Jungkook questions in a hushed whisper, nudging Yoongi in the side.

“Oh hey...yeah... it’s apartment 205.” Jimin continues.

“You’re so funny, Jk. Maybe you’ll actually become successful if you choose stand-up comedy rather than becoming a musician.” Yoongi replies nonchalantly, his cat-like eyes staring at the abandoned pile of cards before he seems to come to the decision to shuffle them himself. He gives you a small smile when you hold your hand out to signal that you’re joining in this round.

“Mhm, you can just walk on in! Doors unlocked… okay.. alright, see ya in a minute.” When Jimin's phone is down, Yoongi passes a hand of cards to him.

“Think you can beat me, Y/n?” Jungkook asks,”Since apparently these four can’t?” He motions to Yoongi and Jimin, glancing at the other two players of the game: Hoseok (Jimins other classmate) and his girlfriend, Faith.

“I think I can.” You say, smirking at the determined expression on Jungkooks face. Even if you weren’t very fond of card games, there was one thing you were even less fond of: losing.

“Mmm, might want to rethink that, but okay.” Jungkook replies. The two of you are death staring when the sound of the front door creaking open catches the attention of everyone else at the table. Jimin shoots out of his chair.

“Taehyung!”

You freeze.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?... possibly.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

"It's- It's-."

“Taehyung, you just missed me creaming everyone in bullshit.” Jungkook boasts. Your eyes are glued to the side of Jungkook's head, not daring to make eye contact with the source of your nerves the past few weeks.

“Oh did I?” The familiar, deep voice utters.

Okay.. you can’t help but look…

Holy—it’s actually him.

Immediate regret sinks into your soul when you see him. God, he’s even handsomer than you remember. A white woolen sweater hangs over a pair of his black pants, matched with white sneakers and accenting the head of dark wavy hair you’d been thinking about since you last saw him.

“Yep!” Jungkook continues. “And now Y/n’s about to get shitfaced too.”

The moment his eyes swiftly glance your way is the moment you crumble and turn your head back to Jungkook. You had hoped to make a sly remark, something along the lines of “in your dreams,” but you’re caught breathless from the tension in the room. The tension only the two of you are aware of. He must be tense too, right?

“I wouldn’t underestimate her.” You hear out of Taehyung's mouth, stealing a look at his face once more. He’s smirking at Jungkook, hanging his coat on the hook beside yours, oblivious of the way you’re basically dissecting his every move.

“Have you met Y/n?” Jimin questions, provoking Taehyung's eyes to fall back onto yours. This time, you don’t look away.

He doesn’t answer right away, making you more nervous than you should be— the silence deafening as you make to explain, “We-“

“No.” He states plainly, cutting you off. An innocent smile plays on his lips as he looks at Jimin and places his messenger bag beside the door.

No? Uhhh, was he not the guy who pretended to know who you were and cried in front of you without even explaining why? Nope, it’s definitely him.

“I’m Taehyung.” He calls in your direction, offering you a boxy smile and a small nod, “Don’t let Jungkook fool you. A girl pinched him when we were in grade school. He barely lasted five seconds before running away screaming.” Taehyung moved to the table, sitting beside the man he just brutally embarrassed.

“That girl was terrifying. She was way taller than all the other sixth graders. It was an unfair situation.” Jungkook protested, sinking in his chair as he shuffled the cards he held in his hand.

You couldn’t help but stare dumbly at Taehyung. Was he embarrassed of his outburst at the cafe that he just hopes you forgot about him? You guess you didn’t exactly meet each other, other than a few words exchanged before he disappeared out the door. He probably doesn’t want his friends to know about what happened. Or did he not recognize you and completely forgot about the whole ordeal?

Okay, it’s fine… totally fine.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” you laugh, “no more coming in late, Jk. Or I’ll have to pinch you.”

Jungkook merely rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. You see the crinkle in Taehyung's eyes as he laughs, the boxy smile taking root on his face again… a smile you’ve begun to enjoy the look of.

Hey. Snap out of it. This guy is so confusing. That’s a red card.

You straighten up in your seat, catching Jimin's attention when you move towards the kitchen, motioning with your hand to signal that you’re getting another drink. You have a feeling you’re gonna need some more alcohol to get through the evening.

Jimins place is clean, every knick knack placed neatly where it belongs; accompanied by the smell of potted plants that he keeps by his windows. Little name tags are attached to the plant stems: Flo, Sprout, Bob. He names his plants. Sweet.

He, like you, has a great view of the city too, a mid-size window perched above his breakfast nook where a small potted plant (quotabley named “bean”) grows. The city is bustling below as you reach for a beer, shrugging off the fact that you hate beer, but at least the taste will distract you from Tae-

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice call from the kitchen archway. When you turn you nearly drop the bottle out of your hand. Taehyung gives you a soft smile.

“Hey! Uh.. did you want a beer, or are you a wine guy?” You question, cringing at how much higher your voice sounds at his close proximity.

“I— Sorry, neither.” He starts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he makes his way around the island. “I uh- I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nod slightly, “Yeah of course… what’s up?”

“Um,” he’s nervous, you notice. “I just wanted to apologize about the whole thing at the cafe a few weeks ago.. I was— not in the right state of mind.” He meets your eyes hesitantly, “you just look like someone I know from a long time ago and it kind of.. took me by surprise, I guess.”

Jimin was right. You offer him a smile, shaking your head in disbelief, “You know what, I truly thought that was the reason… It’s totally fine. I’m not who you think I am, by the way.”

A flicker of something crosses his features at your comment, something you can’t quite pick up, but he changes it quickly to a smirk. “Obviously.” He laughs, “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.. I’m not weird, I swear.”

“Mmm, that’s what they all say.” You tease.

He laughs, a soft sound that you want to hear over and over again. “You’ve got me there.” He takes a pause, placing his hands on the island countertop. “Let’s start over? If that’s okay? I didn’t want to mention it when I came in because I wanted us to have a fresh start.”

You push down the questioning thought of who this woman he mistook you for was, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. “That’s totally okay.. clean slate?”

“Clean slate.” He finalizes.

“Straightforward,” You add, “I like it.”

He gives you a warm smile, the same edge in the way he looks at you dances in his eyes before he breaks it off, sliding the bottle of beer out of your own hand. “Actually, I think I will have a beer. You don’t seem like a beer drinker, anyway.” He turns quickly, smirking at you before striding out of the room. “Thanks, Y/n!”

Protestations die on your lips as he disappears from the room, your beer along with him. How rude. You can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you turn back to the cupboard, skipping the beer and pouring yourself a second glass of wine. You weren’t a beer drinker, after all.

Although you weren’t one for parties, you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were having a good time. No, a great time. All of you are seated in Jimins living room; a plate of chips sits on the coffee table, which was the hot spot of the night (considering there’s hardly any remaining). Others in the group still have a glass of alcohol in their hands, the tipsiness evident by the slurring of their words. You had stopped yourself after half of your second glass, playing it safe since you still have to walk home after the party. You weren’t much of a drinker anyway-- your family history being the root of this decision.

It isn’t the games that made the night this enjoyable, or the food, or the movie that is currently playing over Jimin's television (which, by the way, is Moulin Rouge, because half of the room enjoys musicals, and the other half enjoys regular movies. So, you decided to settle on a movie musical). None of that matters, except the fact that you’ve never felt this carefree in a long time.

For one night, you can put aside your cafe job, auditions, and never-ending to-do lists and just have fun. Real fun. Even in the audition rooms, it has never been fun for you. It’s been nerve-wracking to a fault and always ends with a “thank you for taking the time, but we’ve decided not to accept you this time around,” or a callback, which ultimately concludes with the same grueling fate.

But this is different.

This is a group of people who genuinely want to spend time with you and get to know you… with no “not this time’s” or open-ended questions.

Especially with Taehyung. You’re surprised at how quickly the two of you seemed to hit it off, despite the awkward introduction. Now, it feels like he’s known you for years… in the best way. You’re comfortable talking to him, chatting together during the movie about the plot points or songs you find specifically endearing. You had initially planned to sit next to Jimin… but ended up next to Taehyung on the couch.

It just happened.

He enjoys musicals as well, you learn. Maybe not as much as you do, but at least he doesn’t despise them. He’s one of Jimin’s friends from their shared art class. He loves the color brown. His favorite food is watermelon. He does illustrations for Jimins journalism projects (which, in your opinion, are exceptional from the photos he showed you during the movie while the others were engulfed in the film). He wishes to pursue traveling journalism, where he draws what he sees rather than taking pictures. His whole aura is warm… like a heated blanket that envelopes you whole when you feel him shift beside you on the sofa. A small reminder that he’s still there.

Okay, you’re liking his presence way too much.

He finds romance movies corny but a guilty pleasure nonetheless. This, the reason why he agreed to watch Moulin Rouge despite the cheesiness in the beginning. In the end, it was anything but cheesy.

"Well, that was stupid." Jungkook scoffs, slamming the remote onto the neighboring loveseats' armrest. The once loud room filled with music is now quiet from the after-effects of the movie.

“I told you it was sad!” Jimin exclaims. The two of you had seen this movie before in theatres… and this was nothing compared to how the ending hit the first time. “Y/N was nearly choking. She was crying so hard when we saw it.”

An immediate blush rises onto your cheeks as you shake your head in defiance, trying to hide the tears that had been stinging your eyes for the last thirty minutes. “Who wouldn’t cry at that??”

“Taehyung probably didn’t. He never cries.” Hoseok deadpans. Ha. You can’t help but remember the tear that ran down his face in the cafe… He never cries?

With a quick look over your shoulder, you find that Taehyung is no longer seated on the couch. When did he get up? You attempt to shrug off your curiosity, pivoting back towards the chip table where only sad little crumbs remain. You were worrying way too much over a man you quite literally just met tonight… even if it felt like you’ve known him for much longer.

Taehyung eventually reappeared, stating that he had to use the bathroom— you ignored the fact that it took him a solid 30 minutes to get back to the party. It wasn’t your place to ask any questions, especially since he lifted a smile onto his face the second he reentered the room. See, y/n… nothing to worry about.

It wasn’t long before you insisted you head home, knowing that you’d curse yourself in the morning if you stayed out past the sunrise. If you did, you’d sleep through tomorrow, and that would be awful. You’ve done this a few times… and every time, you felt like you had wasted an entire year of your life.

You move to grab your purse and jacket, which are hanging comfortably on the hook beside the front door. With a small smile, you bid everyone goodnight— smiling as they resume a card game around the table at one o’clock in the morning. It’s nice to know that the group of you hit it off… now; you can look forward to plenty of get-togethers in the future.

Your mind is bustling with all kinds of ideas: picnics in central park, late-night broadway shows, hangouts at the caf-

“Y/n!” The soft calling of Taehyung's voice causes you to halt near the exit, turning on your heel to see him jogging towards you. He had haphazardly thrown his jacket over him since it’s still being tugged onto his body as he runs. His hair becomes even more chaotic in his haste… Why do you want to run your hands through it?

“Hey!” You squeak, interrupting your thoughts before they trudged down a guilty road. “What are you doing? Weren’t you going to play another round?”

He gives you a smirk, catching his breath as he holds out your house keys. “You forgot these! You were really moving fast… sick of us already?”

“Wh— oh my god, thank you!” With a quick swipe of your hand, you’re stuffing your keys into your pocket with a grateful smile. “Also, hardly.”

You admire the way his eyes light up at your confession. “Well.. since you don’t want to leave us so quickly.. how about I walk you home?” He seems almost hesitant asking, but you can’t help but applaud him for actually taking the initiative to inquire.

You shake your head, pulling the strap of your purse farther up your shoulder. “You don’t have t-“

“I want to!” He cuts you off quickly, catching you by surprise as he moves past you to open the door. He glances back, taking in your reluctant expression, “It’s not safe this time of night Y/n… You shouldn’t be alone.“

You know he didn't mean anything by that statement… But the idea of someone genuinely caring and not wanting you to be alone makes your heart swell. Jimin cares about your safety of course, but this feels… Different.

This is the reason why you allow him to walk you home.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, like a symphony that beckons you home. You’ve been feeling exhaustion seeping into your bones for the last ten minutes, but Taehyung's occasional brush of his arm as he walks beside you keeps you wide awake. He doesn’t think to apologize for accidentally touching you, but you blame it on the time of night. Delusion.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You question, wrapping your coat tighter around you to kick out the nipping air.

“About a year now,” He responds, shuffling his feet, “though it feels like way longer. You?”

“Three years.”

Taehyung turns his head towards you, eyes wide. “Wow, way to one up me.” With a teasing smile he continues, “You must know this city like the back of your hand.”

The truth is… you don’t. You came here for the sole purpose of making it on Broadway... you never really took the time to focus on anything else. Part of you wishes you had learned more, craved more, wanted more with your life—then you wouldn’t be so miserable when the one thing you do want doesn’t work out. “Yeah… kind of.”

If he hears the somber tone of your voice, he ignores it, turning against the wind as he walks backwards down the sidewalk. “It’s overrated in my opinion.”

You raise your head at this, “Why is that?”

“Everyone here has dreams… and those dreams get crushed more often than not.” He shrugs, “No one cares if you want to succeed, only if you already have.”

You stare at him for a moment, awestruck by the weight of his words. “But,” he adds, turning back towards the wind, “the ones who never give up and continue to chase that dream can become successful. Despite all of the no’s they might face, they always hold on till they hear a yes. That sounds like true success to me.”

Turning your head, you stare at the side of his face— admiring the way his hair tosses back a bit against the harsh winter winds. His words hit you way deeper than he probably realized, sinking into your chest with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. You’ve been contemplating recently on whether or not to give up on your dream… that maybe it just wasn’t going to work out for you. You have been trying for so long, and have repeatedly been let down. There was no way Taehyung could have known, which is why his words hit you as hard as they did. Despite the hardships, you’ve been here for three years and you’ve never given up or stopped trying to chase your dream.

That was an achievement, right?

“To be honest… I've heard a lot of no’s in my three years of being here.” You speak softly, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “Sometimes it feels like there will never be a yes… but here I am. At least I'm still working— at a coffee shop, not on the stage.”

“It’s admirable that you keep going.” Taehyung glances at you over his shoulder. “It makes you different from a lot of people who have left the city when they faced failure. It’s something to be proud of. Plus, coffee shop or big stage, you’re in New York City and pursuing your gift. It’s special.”

When your eyes meet, you smile at him, feeling a sense of victory the longer you hold his gaze.

“Don’t give up, Y/n. No matter what.” He speaks genuinely, leaning towards you to nudge you gently on your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his playfulness, giving him a nudge in return before your eyes downcast to your winter boots. The snow on the ground is fresh, powdery and sticking to the toes of your shoes. “Plus,” He adds, sucking in the chilly air, “you've got what others don’t have…”

This time when you meet his eye he has a serious expression, making sure he has your full attention as you round the corner towards your apartment building. His gaze is genuine, captivating… and a part of you hopes that the close proximity of your apartment wouldn’t cut this moment short. Finally, he speaks.

“You have passion.”

Taehyung's words weigh on you for the rest of your night. It started off as something simple, looking up audition songs for an upcoming off-broadway show your agent was telling you about. Then, you went to learning it. After that, putting on makeup. And finally, completely forgetting about your sleep schedule and filming an entire audition tape in your room at 2 in the morning (and you were belting… your poor neighbors). It wasn’t until four that you finally turned in for the night, not bothering to take off your makeup or get changed-- simply falling onto your pillow and blacking out the moment you hit it. You were definitely sleeping the next day away… but at that moment, you didn’t mind. Having a day off from your busy schedule wouldn’t be so bad.

“I sent in an audition tape two nights ago.” You speak confidently, wiping down the back counter that’s littered with coffee grounds. They stick to the rag like glue, tiny dots scattered along its white surface. If it weren’t for your apron,

and your expertly rolled up white turtleneck sweater, you would look alot like this rag right now.

“Did you?” Jimin questions from the bar, sleeving the cup before placing it on the handoff counter.

“Christopher! Medium cappuccino!” He calls, multitasking while he cranes his neck to still hear you.

“I did. I feel really good about this one..” You add, meeting him beside the bar as he lifts the pitcher up and down to create the latte-art of a flower in the center of the mug. You have tried sooooo many times to make latte art… and every time it ended up looking like a glob. A big, distorted snowball. Jimin was the master of latte art, always finishing it off beautifully with a whip of his wrist. The foam atop telling a story. “It was so late-- I was totally out of it… and yet I actually enjoyed myself while filming it. I just imagined being there.. In center stage.”

“I’m happy for you, Y/n!” He smiles, turning to place the hot mug next to the cappuccino.

“Caleb! Medium caramel latte!”

He was only half listening to you. The cafe was bustling, so it truly wasn’t Jimin's fault that he was sidetracked— but nothing could hold back the small smile that played at the edge of your lips. You had actually enjoyed singing for the first time in a while.. all because of Taehyung's Academy Award winning pep talk. Who knew that all you needed was for someone to tell you like it is. With a minuscule smile, you turn back towards the counter and lift the latte you’d whipped up this morning to your lips. Your distorted snowball is fully on display at the top.

Despite the busyness, the front register is deserted, giving you time to think for a moment about the pep talk... or rather, the person who gave you it.

“I think Taehyung likes you.” Jimin deadpans.

Uhhh… You nearly spit out your snowball at that— clearing your throat as you set it down slowly onto the wooden countertop. He speaks as if this is a natural conversation starter… it’s not.

“I’m sorry?” You croak.

“Taehyung.” He repeats, turning his head in your direction with a knowing smirk. “I think he likes you.”

You give him a scoff of disbelief, watching as yet another group of regulars enter through the door. “That’s not true, he just doesn’t know me… so he made an effort to talk to me.” If you weren’t studying the group, you would've seen Jimin giving you a scrutinized look.

So, now you have his attention.

“Y/n. It’s so obvious… He spent the entire night talking to you, he left moments after you did to give you your keys and he never came back. If that isn’t someone who’s interested, I don’t know what is.” Jimin is an expert at multitasking, finishing off two drinks at the same time and calling them out.

“Well, Jimin, when people don’t know each other, they get to know each other. It’s this thing called talking and becoming friends.” The sentence hangs in the air as the doorbell chimes, signaling that yet another customer has entered the cafe and into the swarm of regulars, but the two of you disregard the sound and continue on through your bickering.

“I’m just saying, Taehyung doesn’t usually talk to girls.” Jimin adds, wiping his hands off on the white rag seated beneath his espresso machine. “Even if they wanted his attention, he didn’t give it to them. I mean— he’s nice to girls, don’t get me wrong.. but he’s never talked to them like he did with you on game night. I don’t think he’s dated anyone since he got here.”

“He’s career driven.” You say quickly.

If you thought his smirk couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. “Yeah, girls don’t know that about him— meaning he told you, and not other girls.” Jimin deadpans.

You stare blankly at him. There’s no way. No way that a guy as attractive as Taehyung would even think about looking at you like that. There’s just no way. You’ve never had a boyfriend... or even a guy friend, until Jimin. Eventually, you’d accepted the fact that maybe you just weren’t that interesting. Maybe you weren’t pretty enough. Maybe you couldn’t flirt…. okay, you definitely couldn’t flirt— but that’s besides the point.

“He’s not interested in me.” You conclude.

“He is.” Jimin counters.

“He’s not.”

“He so is.”

“He’s so not.”

“Y/n. I swear to you. He’s interested and you need to shoot your shot.” He whisper-screams, throwing the rag in his hand onto the bar.

“Taehyung is not-“

A clearing of someone’s throat from beyond the register cuts your argument short, nearly making you lose your balance when you see who the source was.

You’re fairly certain you’ve turned pale.

Taehyung stands in front of you, eyeing between the two of you with an awkward expression. God, how long has he been standing there? “I figured I should step in before the two of you start fist fighting.”

“Hey!” The shrill of your voice causes you to wince.

“Hey.” He says with a smile, folding his arms in front of him and raising his eyes to the menu above your head. You can’t help the glare you send towards Jimin, who's notably holding back his laughter as he moves to the blender, the station farthest from the register. Ridiculous.

“What can we get for you?” You ask routinely, trying not to make it obvious that you were just talking about him… and praying that he wasn’t there to hear what the two of you were talking about.

“Hmm…” He looks especially good today, wearing a brown, long coat and a brown plaid scarf around his neck. He wasn’t kidding when he said his favorite color was brown, that’s for sure. It suits him. His hair is wavy, flowing to a point just under his eyebrows with a split off center, giving you the tiniest glimpse of his forehead. “How about an americano with hazelnut, and some cream?”

“We can do that for ya!” You have to force yourself to stop looking at him, pressing the buttons to ring up his order before you forget. You nearly overlook ringing up the hazelnut syrup. Why were you so dazed? He’s already placed his credit card into the chip reader, but your foggy brain asks anyway. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” He speaks as you move towards the bar beside the register. Grabbing an empty pitcher, you pour the milk inside and reach for the steamer. He drops a dollar into the tip jar, not giving you enough time to thank him for the unnecessary effort before he speaks again. “Are you free later?”

NEXT CHAPTER

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bucksfucks · 3 years

Text

amorosa // steve rogers

chapter six: between the sheets

chapter one // chapter two // chapter three

chapter four // chapter five

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

main masterlist

series masterlist

summary || after bucky let’s the name peggy slip from his lips, steve not giving you the answers you’re looking for, you take matters into your own hands.

pairing || sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader

word count || 1,135 words

warnings || sugar daddy/sugar baby themes, financial issues, undefined age gap, mentions of legal troubles, mentions of crime — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

Bucky's voice replayed in your head the entire ride back to the hotel room. Steve's hand rested gently on your thigh, normally comforting, but right now it felt like it weighed about a million pounds, anchoring you down.

You were quiet, silently sliding out of the car before stepping into the elevator with him. Steve hummed a tune as you ascended before the door was opened to a dark room. Your heart seized at the sight of it, the name Peggy echoing in your mind.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." You said, not waiting for him to acknowledge you before you locked yourself in the bathroom and tried to drown your thoughts out with hot running water.

It didn't work.

Why did Steve hide her from you, you had told him about your previous relationships, even asked him about his and he simply brushed off the question saying he was always too busy for anything long term.

Here you were finding out he used to be married from his best friend that you had just met.

"Hey, Princess?" Steve's voice sounded from the other side of the door as you snapped your head in its direction, "you okay? You've been in there for a while."

You wanted to scoff, rolling your eyes as you shook your head, "I'm fine."

When you stepped out of the bathroom you had the lush bathrobe wrapped around you as Steve had discarded his tailored tuxedo in exchange for a simple pair of sleep pants and a white shirt.

You hated how good he still looked.

The air around you two was tense, sad eyes flicking up to meet his as he stood from the bed.

"What did Bucky say?" His voice was a quiet whisper, the least confident it's ever been as you cast your eyes down to the floor.

"Oh you know, nothing much, just that you were married." You were hurt, emotions running through every word you spoke as Steve recoiled at the sound of them. He remained silent, running a hand through his beard.

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" You asked, still avoiding contact as you felt the familiar thickness in your throat as tears prickled their way in the corner of your eyes.

"She's not important," Steve said as you looked up at him in disbelief, "you were married." You reiterated as he sighed, taking a couple of steps closer to you.

"It didn't end well, okay? She isn't who she said she was." He told you and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes again.

You slide past his body, moving towards the bed as he spins around to face you.

"I want to know about her." You say confidently, meeting his gaze as he clenches his jaw.

"No, sweetheart, no you don't." He warns you as you narrow your eyes at him. You're frustrated, heart leaping out of your chest as your stomach churns and you feel bile rising to your throat.

What could he possibly be hiding? Did you want to know? Did you even know him?

Your thoughts were wild, racing and causing your heart to palpate as Steve stands a few feet away from you, trying to calm you down.

"I want to go home."

Four days, that's how long it's been since you'd come back from Paris.

You were still trying to adjust to the switch in time zones, sleeping through most of the days and awake during most nights as you filled your time with anything other than thinking about Steve.

He had texted, tried to call you and even sent you flowers every day.

You didn't reply, sending one text to him saying that you need time and going ghost after that.

How could you keep your mind off of Steve when everything reminded you of him. Opting to stay in an air bnb proved to be lonely and you missed the company that Steve provided you with, missed the way he would kiss the tip of your nose or massage your thigh.

The thought of him with Peggy made you miserable. The thought of him willingly keeping that part of his life a secret, though, made you absolutely despondent.

You couldn't keep sitting on this anymore, if Steve wouldn't tell you about her, you'd just have to figure it out on your own.

"Thanks, Parker, I owe you." You smiled, chuckling as he enveloped you in a half hug, an armful of files in the other you both sat down in the quaint coffee shop.

"Think of this as a favour," he smiled, setting them down on the table before you began gnawing on your lip.

"Although, I gotta admit, this is some pretty heavy stuff. Are you, I mean, are you sure about this? Have you asked him about it?" He wondered and you sighed, nodding your head, "he said that I wouldn't wanna know."

You watched Peter's face contort into a cringe, the same cringe he had worn when he raced over to your house in high school venting about how he had just messed up the most important date of his life, that MJ would never speak to him again.

Funny how life works out, the two of them now happily married with a baby girl on the way.

"Their divorce was finalized in 2019, four years after Mr. Rogers, sorry, Steve, had filed for it." Peter began, opening the beige folder and turning it over to you.

"The reason for divorce is simply put as difference in opinions, but it never goes further than that." His eyes are big as he looks up at you, "Peggy isn't exactly as innocent as she sounds."

"From money laundering, fraud, tax evasion, bribery, I mean, she's done it all basically. Steve was left with nothing and had to face all the consequences." Peter explains and there's a weight that's lifted from your chest.

"It's also noted that it wasn't an amicable split and that well, Mrs. Carter is a powerful woman and has ways of… disposal." Peter's words sting you as your heart flips, "you have to be careful, no one's seen her in years, but she's still out there." He finally concludes, quickly closing the files before handing them over to you.

"If I were you, I would listen to Steve when he said that you don't wanna know her."

Your breath was shaky as you inhaled, hand over the files as you hugged them close to you.

"Thanks so much, Parker. I gotta go, tell MJ I say hi and that if you guys ever need a babysitter, I'm around." You smiled, giving him a quick, but tight hug before hurrying off to find Steve.

There's a funny thing about gut feelings because they're almost never wrong.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #sugar daddy!steve #steve rogers fic

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buckhelped-archive · 2 years

Text

feel-good, tropey buddie fic rec

a couple weeks ago i asked for some sweet trope-heavy buddie fics to take my mind off 5x10, and y'all did not disappoint (thank you SO MUCH to everyone who sent me recs <3)!! i had every intention of making this post shortly thereafter but got wrapped up in holiday stuff, as you do. so it's a bit late but i still wanted to put together a list for anyone who might be after the same thing, especially considering the time of year!

i've not had a chance to read everything here yet so i've just posted the authors' summaries, but have included the tropes involved as well since that's what i was after. the ones with ✨ are ones i have read though, and ⛄ denotes a holiday/winter setting!

feel free to reblog and add more as this list is nowhere near exhaustive, and self-promos are welcome and encouraged!! just please try and keep everything on-theme :) i'll also be editing this as i come across new ones as well. list starts under the cut, sorted by word count. enjoy!!

<5k

✨ pin all of my hopes to your handlebars by spiritsontheroof - pining!eddie, 5+1-esque - 4k - The top of the fire truck is as good of a place as any, really.

He can climb up, lay on top of the hoses, and be left alone. No one follows him up here, or comes looking for him, and no one who walks by in the truck bay can see him. It’s peaceful and it’s quiet and sometimes it’s the only place Eddie can get one moment’s peace in this place.

He does it for about six months after the tsunami before anyone finds him.

And the person who figures it out, of course, is Buck.

✨ as ordinary things often do by hattalove - didn't know they were dating, meddling firefam - 4k - “Uh, Chim,” he says, “why would we be kissing each other in the first place?”

“Oh, no reason,” Chimney shrugs. “That’s why I figured you’d be on board. Just don’t kiss each other for a week, which you already do. Easy money.”

spoiler: it's not easy money.

seamless shifts by tkreyesevandiaz - clothes sharing, accidental confessions - 4.2k - Eddie lets a confession slip while stuck in the dregs of sleep, and Buck panics about it.

Or, the soft clothes sharing fic that turned a little angsty because these boys are idiots

you know we could have it all by neoncrayolas - fake relationship - 4.5k - Eddie's parents want him to move back to Texas. Eddie tells them he's dating someone.

When they arrive in California to visit, they think that someone is Buck.

5-10k

Drowning in Dreams (You're My Raft) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels - bed-sharing, co-parenting - 5.4k - In which Buck sleeps his way into a relationship with Eddie, but not in the way you'd think.

The Castle Operation by on_mars - christopher does some parent-trapping, didn't know they were dating, everyone can see it - 5.5k - “But you know he’s not far, right?”

“I know.” Christopher whispers. “But he used to be around all the time. He used to be around all the time and now he’s gone.” Christopher adds, taking the pen to scribble on his notebook. “I don’t understand why Dad didn’t ask him to stay.”

“Did you want him to stay?” Carla asks, smiling.

“Of course I did.” Christopher frowns. “I want him to stay forever.”

[OR Christopher has a plan to make his dad realize he's in love with Buck]

✨ shout if you want my heart by hattalove - didn't know they were dating, buck takes care of eddie - 5.9k - “I’m not even in the neighborhood of mad,” he says, instead of vomiting any of the thousand feelings warring inside him. “But Buck. This would’ve—this took you hours.”

“I’m good at multitasking,” Buck says, and Eddie can practically hear him shrugging over the phone. “I did all the cooking after I put Chris to bed, and then I got up a little earlier to get the cleaning and laundry done. It was nothing.”

Eddie’s starting to suspect he’ll have to wait for Buck to come back to make him understand that, actually, it kind of was everything.

or, eddie has a tupperware-induced emotional crisis.

✨ call you home by ashavahishta - married!buddie, different first meeting, love at first sight - 6k - "He’s like, so pretty sometimes I can’t believe he’s real?” He’d rambled once, so tired at the end of shift he was basically drunk with it.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Hen had said patiently, and patted him on the shoulder. “I like girls, remember?”

“He’s built like a Greek god with the face of an angel,” Eddie had argued, a stubborn set to his mouth like he was determined for Hen to believe just how gorgeous his husband was. “Even you couldn’t resist that.”

Or: "Eddie Diaz drinks his 'I fucking love my husband' juice for 6,000 words." OR "5 Times Eddie Told The Firefam About Buck and 1 Time They Actually Met Him".

✨ he's asking you to go home, i have my own key. we are not the same. by coup_de_foudre - outsider pov, 5+1 - 8.1k - She’s been sat at home all day, alternating between flicking through the regular trashy daytime television, and baking an absurd amount of cakes. She’s already boxed an entire ginger cake for her mother. But, for now, it’s a Friday afternoon and she’s finally hit her breaking point of boredom.

Which led her here. Standing outside of Eddie’s house.

Only, Eddie isn’t the one who’s opened the door. It’s not Eddie standing there, mild surprise on his face as a towel hangs dangerously loose over his hips, water dripping down onto his bare chest.

Or, the one in which Ana's boyfriend is almost definitely in love with his best friend only....he doesn't know.

Carnations by red_to_black - pining!eddie, secret admirer - 10k - Evan Buckley has never once been given flowers in his life.

That is, until he mentions it in a fit of self-pity at the firehouse. Then they're everywhere. What he can't work out is where they're coming from.

(or: Buck mentions never getting flowers before, and a certain someone decides to remedy that.)

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania - fake relationship, different first meeting - 10.6k - After the ladder truck and the blood clot and the tsunami, Bobby makes Buck go to therapy before he does something stupid (like sue the city). Buck's not totally comfortable being alone with a therapist, but fortunately he makes a friend and ally who's willing to help him out - Eddie Diaz from the 136 who's just been caught in an illegal fight club.

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

11-25k

Facing Fears by elizabethbri - co-parenting, didn't know they were dating - 11.4k - "Prompt: Christopher has an end of year class trip to an amusement park and he asks Eddie if Buck can chaperone. Turns out Christopher heard some of his classmates talking about the wave pool in the water part of the park and he wants Buck with him cuz Buck saved him from the tsunami last time."

Includes Eddie and Buck being adorable dads, jealous (and swooning) moms, and all three boys facing their fears together.

⛄ Goodwill is Sent in Snapshots (You Only Get the Full Picture on Return) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels - romcom antics - 14.0k - When both Evan Buckley and Chimney Han are dumped at the start of December, they decide to swap houses - with each other. A nice two weeks in a different location will be a great unconventional Christmas. Certainly not anything life changing.

Then Buck meets Chim's next-door-neighbor, and Chim meets Buck's apartment-crashing sister.

Buy Back The Secrets by allyasavedtheday - amnesia, hurt/comfort - 18.8k - He casts his gaze to the right, to the voice he’d heard a minute ago and the hand still on his shoulder.

And, well. Okay. So Buck may have just been unconscious for an indeterminable length of time but he doesn’t think he’s exaggerating when he says the guy leaning over his bedside is one of the most attractive people he’s seen in a long time. Especially when his face splits into a smile that rivals the brightness of the hospital lights that almost just fucking blinded Buck a second ago.

“Welcome back, hotshot,” the guy says and it sounds fond – familiar – and Buck honestly has no idea who this guy is.

His brown hair is dishevelled on top of his head and his eyes look tired but then Buck notices the LAFD t-shirt so- alright. Someone from the firehouse, maybe? But he’s pretty sure he’d remember a face like that.

After getting hurt on a call, Buck wakes up thinking it's 2018. AKA Buck can't remember who Eddie is but he's pretty sure everyone's lying when they say they're "just friends."

✨⛄ baby, won't you take me home for christmas by wafflesofdoom - fake relationship, bed-sharing - 18.9k - eddie didn't think lying to his parents about still dating ana would backfire so badly - but suddenly, it was christmas, and his parents were begging him to bring his girlfriend home. so, eddie did what any logical person would do - he pretended he was dating his best friend, buck. buck, who he might be secretly in love with. buck, who agrees to come to texas for a week and fake a relationship with eddie.

what could go wrong, right?

(lots, apparently.)

⛄ Coupled Up For Christmas by cherishingstydia - fake relationship, bed-sharing - 19k - Eddies mother mistakenly thinks Buck and Eddie are dating, and insists Buck comes back to El Paso with him and Chris. Eddie is so shocked by her being ok with that he can’t even correct her before the call ends, so Buck says they can pretend…only problem it won't be pretend for Eddie he’s already madly in love with Buck.

life sure can try to put love through it by wafflesofdoom - married!buddie, amnesia, hurt/comfort - 20k - Listen - the panic attack Buck had, it was fully justified. As far as he knew, it was 2021 - and Eddie was standing next to him, telling him that he’d forgotten the last three years of his life. He felt he deserved a moment to have a panic attack, thank you very much.

or - after an accident at work, Buck forgets the last three years of his life. Mentally, he's back in 2021 and in the midst of a failing relationship with Taylor - but actually, its 2024 and he's married to his best friend, Eddie. Navigating amnesia is pretty heavy work, as it turns out.

26-50k

✨ the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies - didn't know they were dating (well, one of them didn't know), pining!eddie, miscommunication - “Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him.

“That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him.

or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

⛄ Hiding in a Living Dream by Spinteresting - fake relationship, bed-sharing, co-parenting - 31k - Where does your mom want you to invite me?” Buck asks.

“Uh….to El Paso….for Christmas.”

“What? Why would they want me there? I’m not family.”

“First of all, you are family Buck. But, um, also I might have accidentally given them the impression that we’re dating.”

Buck laughs, “Wait…how did you accidentally make them think we’re dating?”

Or: Buck and Eddie fake a relationship, spend Christmas in El Paso, and realize it might all be real after all.

Playing House by mansikka - roommates, hurt/comfort - 36.2k - When Buck ends things with Abby, he no longer has a home. He doesn't want to house share like he did before, and he doesn't want to sleep on Maddie's couch. Could a new friend with a spare room be the answer to all his problems?

Also known as: What if Buck moved in with Eddie instead of Chim after ending things with Abby?

To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels - fake relationship, bed-sharing, co-parenting, marriage of convenience - 44.2k - After the shooting, Eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. Like who will get his assets if he dies. Who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. What might happen if his family contests Buck's guardianship. Luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak:

Marry Buck.

#hi i'm still alive just been super busy #more hashtag content coming soon i prommy #oh! and if i have your fic on here and you'd like me to link to your blog i'm happy to #in the interest of time i just copy-pasted everything from ao3 #buddie #911 #fic #fic rec #bon.txt

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cyborg-franky · 3 years

Note

Hiya 😊 I love this collab and I’d like to request something from your tarot reading event!

Sooo, yea. I’d like to request an SFW for Zoro (ofc) and a Fem reader :)

Thanks so much 💕

Here you go lovely <3

For you and Zoro the deck had dealt you Eight Of Swords.

The Eight of Swords in Tarot stands for restriction, confusion, and powerlessness. In love this card can mean it can indicate that you feel trapped, oppressed, or even abused.

Zoro x Fem!Reader Modern AU SFW Domestic abuse themes [Not from Zoro] Word Count: 731

You had needed to get out of there, you couldn’t handle the yelling, the screaming, how he’d slapped you cross the face, just another mark to compliment your growing collection. Nothing hurt more then his words, not the bruises on your wrists, your arms, the harsh cut on your right shoulder.

The words dug deeper than any surface marks, worms that wriggled deeper into he core of your heart. The words he said echoed in surround in your head. You felt tears running down your face, your legs burned from the running, your bare feet ached from ponding along the pavement.

You’d left your phone, your keys, your wallet, and you just sat on the park bench and sobbed into your hands. Your shoulders cold, you’d left in a hurry, caring nothing for what you’d left behind. You never wanted to go back but the implications tore at you.

“Hey” you heard the rough voice and looked up; you dried your eyes quickly as the handsome stranger furrowed his brows at you.

“H-hey” You mumbled and looked back down at the ground, at your bare feet.

“You in some sort of trouble?” He gestured to the way you were dressed, how you were crying, he noticed the red sting on one of your cheeks. You didn’t feel judged under his gaze though.

“I had a fight with my boyfriend”

“Hm”

He sat down next to you, he dropped his heavy gym bag and leaned back against the bench, arms behind his head. “We fight a lot and… he says some awful things” You started, no idea why you were even telling this man.

“He hits me”

Your voice trembled, feeling another wave of tears rushing to the surface, he narrowed his eyes as he stared at the people walking around the park, some sending the pair a few glances. You leaned back also, feeling safe with this man.

“Why don’t you leave?”

“It’s not that simple, I’m… I’m scared. Not just of him… but of… of having no where to go” Zoro sighed at your words, he leaned his head to the side and watched as you broke down once more.

“I have a friend, she’s looking for a roommate, I’ll take you to her” he said so matter of factly. You blinked at him, he sat forward and looked inside his gym bag, he pulled out a pair of workout shoes and threw them at your feet.

“My stuff though.. I can’t go back!” You protested when he paused his rummaging, thinking things over before he pulled something else out. A large hoodie, he threw it on your lap.

You understood him, thanking him with a gentle nod of your head as you slipped the dark green hoodie on, feeling the warmth envelope you, you felt warm and safe, his scent had a calming effect on you.

“Where do you live?” Again, you blinked and stuttered your reply.

“Wait here” He left his bag with you, a hand on your shoulder, it was large, powerful but the squeeze was affirming, calm, gentle. “I’ve got you”

You sat there curious as to what the stranger with the green hair was up to, you had nothing to check the time on, only the sun sinking slowly lower in the sky as you tried not to drown in your own thoughts, guarding the mans gym bag until he could return.

You jumped up from the bench, his shoes feeling far too large on your feet, but grateful they protected you from the stones. He held a bag, your purse you noticed, he had bloody knuckles and you ran to him, trying to shoulder his heavy bag.

“Your bleeding!”

“Not my blood” There was smirk on his face as he took his bag back, handing you yours, it had a collection of items in, including your wallet and phone.

“I told him” Zoro started as he nodded for you to walk along side him “That you and him are over and we are coming back for your stuff tomorrow” You paused, stopping dead in your tracks as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

“I’m.. free?”

He nodded with a low chuckle, you felt yourself well up once more, the weight in your heart was lifted, this man whose name you still didn’t know had saved you. “Thank you..”

“Zoro”

“Thank you Zoro”

#tw: domestic abuse #tw: abuse #zoro one piece x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #one piece x you #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #coven event #female reader #sfw

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Jealousy Has Its Perks

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 10.4K holy shit im tired

[ ✘ (nsfw!), ☀︎ ] sin with a cute ending

themes : jealous,dom!shouto, brat,sub!reader, friends with benefits, degradation, quirk use, edging, overstimulation, general bdsm things, & a sweet lil confession

bio : Even though you’re not his, Shouto can’t help but turn green with envy when he sees you dancing on another man at the club.

author’s note : uhhhh can i get a hell yeahhHHH for jealous fwb trope? lmao my basic ass loves these. hope y’all do too <3

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅂hinsou’s hands land on your waist, cold fingertips pressing into your exposed midriff and guiding your hips along with his. The circular motion has your head spinning, and you let your skull fall back onto his sturdy chest at the feeling of his semi brushing against your ass. Shinsou’s purple locks tickle your neck as he bends and presses his lips to your skin, sucking on the skin just hard enough to leave a ghost of a bruise. His hands cup your hips, squeezing the flesh there softly while his thumbs trace the crest of the bones.

The song blasting through the club changes, a novel and heavy bass causing your throat to vibrate. The sudden need to quench your thirst emerges, and you pull away from the handsome man regretfully. His lavender irises regard you with understanding as you point to the bar, holding up a finger to signal you won’t be long.

Your heels stick to the dancefloor slightly as you cut through the throngs of club-goers, and unsurprisingly a handful of guys attempt to stop you on your travels. Finding a familiar pink head of hair, you slip into the empty spot next to Ashido and let out a sigh of relief as your elbows land on the wooden counter. Perspiration makes the hairs at the back of your neck stick to your skin, and you fan yourself with a cocktail napkin as you attempt to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Not doing so bad for yourself, Y/N,” Ashido grins at you coyly, her words a tad slurred as her black eyes give you a once-over.

You let out a chuckle, painted lips curving knowingly. “Yeah, well… he used to have a crush on me back in the day,” you explain with a nonchalant shrug, finally giving your order to the woman behind the bar. You look at Shinsou over your shoulder, who has returned to his table of friends and is currently being shoved, high-fived, and noogied animatedly.

Ashido gasps exaggeratedly, her mouth turning from an ‘o’ of shock to a grin of delight. “Two heroes wrapped around your finger at once? I can’t believe you,” she laughs, perhaps too hard, because you have to hold her arm tightly to keep her from falling off her stool.

“Hey now, I’m a free woman!” You reason, thanking the bartender as they hand you an icy glass. “I can fool around with whoever I want, thank you very much.”

“Can’t argue with sound logic,” Ashido taps your glass with hers, throwing back the remaining contents of her drink. “You know, you should tap Bakugou, too. Last night, he Lord-Explosion-Murdered this pussy.”

You snort, the alcohol burning your nostrils as it leaks into your nose from the abrupt reaction to Mina’s words. All the pink-haired woman does is laugh with you, the both of you maybe a step past tipsy but not nearly blackout drunk. Not yet, anyway.

“Shinsou though, really? I’m surprised… I thought you were too in love with IcyHot’s dick to tap anybody else,” Ashido teases, poking your shoulder as a frown forms on your face. Her words are playful, but they send irritation surging through your veins. That asshole had cancelled your weekly appointment tonight, which is why you’re here at the club, prowling for a suitable replacement.

You shrug again, allowing the bitter liquid to drift past your lips before you speak again. “What can I say? He knows how to get the job done, and he’s sexy as hell.”

“You sound a little smitten. He must be pretty damn good,” Ashido wiggles her brows at you, a devious smile making its way to her face.

You disregard her comment, looking away from your friend with an eye roll. Smitten? Your relationship with Shouto is strictly physical. But maybe you had been a bit too disappointed when he’d sent you that text earlier. Shaking your head, you take a gulp of your drink, willing the intrusive thought to disappear.

Ashido’s phone vibrates and you watch her face light up at the message. After a brief moment, she stands, collecting her jacket and purse. “Hmm, seems like Bakugou is calling for an emergency meeting,” she winks at you, flashing you a rather lewd photo of the blonde that was clearly not meant for you to see as she walks away. “Give my regards to Shinsou! I wanna hear about all the nasty stuff he does to you with that mind control quirk of his.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that, sighing as you cross your arms. Would Shinsou really be enough to satisfy your cravings? His quirk does interest you sexually, but it’s unclear if he’d be willing to dominate you like that. He always seemed like the type to go with the flow… and tonight, you really need someone to force you to swim against the current, so to speak.

“Shinsou, huh?”

Speak of the icy devil. The voice behind you makes your body still, your eyes widening at his deep tone. The scent of his encaptivating cologne infiltrates the air around you, and a hand slides around your waist, pushing you backwards against his firm chest. You swallow, your tongue poking out to wet your lips in anticipation. What’s he doing here?

“Already forgetting about me, angel?” Lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his hand gliding across your torso until it reaches the other side of your waist, grabbing there and spinning you around. He catches you as you turn, snatching your wrist with his other hand to steady your half-finished drink.

You look up into his heterochromatic eyes, noticing a new emotion simmering there. Is that… jealousy? His cold breath fans over your flushed face, and you bask in the cool relief it provides in contrast to the stuffy club air. “It was you who cancelled our appointment,” you murmur, feigning innocence as you look to the side in a faux-bashful manner, “I needed to find a substitute. A girl has needs, you know.”

Shouto grins down at you, but it seems like more of a snarl as his eyes glare down at you with hostility. One eyebrow raised in mockery, he chuckles lowly. “And Shinsou Hitoshi is gonna do that for you? Are you sure he’s big enough to fill my shoes, angel?”

Your eyes wander back to the intimidating man before you, lingering on the ridges of his muscular form hidden underneath his button-up and slacks. Feeling brave, you down the rest of your drink, tongue rolling out and over the lip of the emptied glass. Shouto’s eyes burn as they follow the movement, his lips parting slightly while his grip tightens on your waist. Shooting him a playful smile, you tug your wrist free, placing the vacant glass on the bar. “What are you even doing here, Shouto?” You change the subject, hand reaching up to tug on his slim tie as a cheeky grin splits your lips. “You don’t like to have fun.”

The action causes him to lean closer to you, his face next to yours. “I was dragged here against my own will, of course— boy’s night. But would you believe my surprise when I saw my little minx walk in, all eyes on her in her skimpiest dress?” His baritone voice loud and clear despite the blaring music, his lips hover dangerously close. The hand you’d freed strikes your ass abruptly, causing you to jump closer to him in shock. His fingers hold the reddened cheek through the thin material of your dress, gathering you into his chest. No one seems bothered by the blatantly sexual action in the club, everyone distracted with their drinks and their own sensual pursuits. “And then, can you imagine how I felt watching her grind up against mind-control, watching him put his filthy fucking hands on what’s mine?”

You let out a heavy breath, delighted at how responsive he is. How possessive he is. “What’s yours?” You challenge, hands landing on his broad chest. His expression makes you press your legs together eagerly, your body starting to bend to his will.

Shouto’s hand leaves your waist to cradle the back of your neck, forcing you to bend your gaze to meet his. “Mine,” he whispers, his lips inching closer to yours by the second. Your pulse pounding, your fingers curling into the cotton of his shirt, your eyes flutter closed. His lips brush over yours, and then he pulls away.

A whine of protest escapes you, and you shove your palms against his chest in annoyance. But he doesn’t even budge, his fingers slipping into your hair and pulling your defiant face to look at him.

“Let’s get outta here, angel,” he nods toward the exit, releasing you and lightly smacking your ass again before his fingers settle at the small of your back, “I think I need to remind you who you belong to.” Shivers shoot down your spine at his choice of words, effectively drowning the bratty response you were so ready to quip at him. Without even a glance at Shinsou, you allow Shouto to guide you out of the establishment and into the crisp night air.

The brisk walk to his luxurious apartment is silent, but laden with anticipation. Your brain begins to ponder if his words had a deeper meaning. The two of you had been engaging in this affair for months now— you aren’t quite sure how it came to be. Your relationship had remained stringently physical, but you couldn’t help the butterflies that filled your stomach when he held you through the night, when his hands would rub your exhausted body tenderly, and when he would kiss you for hours before you’d slip into a satiated, peaceful slumber. And you did not dare to acknowledge the warmth that would blossom in your chest when you’d drowsily awake, still swaddled against his muscular chest with his arms around you as sunlight peeked through the blinds. Physical, yes— your relationship is only physical… regardless of the fuzzy feelings that ebb through you when you’re next to him.

And when he had proposed to have you come over twice in one weekend, you’d nearly panicked at the raw excitement that coursed through you at the premise. After much consideration you had denied his request, fearful that if you allowed yourself even a shred of further indulgence you’d be entirely consumed by the captivating man. He hadn’t overstepped that boundary since, and you weren’t sure if you felt appreciative or disappointed.

Your train of thought is interrupted as you reach the tall doors of his apartment building. The complex is perhaps one of the most expensive in the city— the lobby boasts flat leather sofas and sleek wooden tables. Lush tropical plants with leaves as wide as tennis rackets break up the space, magnificent orchids dotting the area just sparingly enough, and to top it off, an entire wall with running water rushing over the flat surface, creating a sheet of liquid that trickles quietly as you wait for the elevator.

Next to you, Shouto has his hands in his pockets, a blank expression on his face as usual. But after months of getting to know him, you can easily recognize the irritation lingering on his handsome mug. You are not able to think of any words that could possibly calm Shouto’s crackling, brooding intensity, but honestly, a large part of you desperately wants to find out what exactly he has in store for you. It’s clear that he has no intention of forgetting you were about to leave with another man, and his blatant acrimony brings a sliver of joy to you while jealousy oozes out of his every pore— you know you’re in for a wild night.

When the door closes with a deafening click behind you, your body freezes as you wait with bated breath. Sure enough, two large hands curl around your stomach, coasting down your pelvis in a V shape. His long fingers nearly graze your clothed slit, but he changes direction at the last moment, instead securing his palms on your inner upper thighs. He rubs the flesh there roughly, making your head fall back against his shoulder as you gaze up at him. His smoky eyes are already on you, a smirk decorating his pretty lips as his fingers work on your sensitive muscles. Thumbs brushing against the sides of your panties, his movements push the hem of your short dress up along your hips.

“You need to be fucked pretty bad, huh, angel?” He taunts, analyzing how your ass rubs zealously against his crotch. His smirk only grows as you nod, your hand flying up to grapple onto his bicep. “Bad enough to drop your standards so embarrassingly low?”

You snort at his words, turning your head so your eyes catch his. This asshole has some nerve getting jealous after he was the one who cancelled on you. “Shinsou is just as hot as you, Shouto,” you reply boldly, wondering what exactly the price of your words will be. How far can you push this envious beast? Will you be able to take his punishment?

Shouto’s expression darkens, allowing his hair to fall over his eyes as his stare falls to the floorboards. His hands leave your skin, and you whirl around ready to dish out another line, but he’s already a step ahead of you. He lashes out, yanking your body against his by swooping his hand underneath your thigh and cupping your bare ass. He lifts your body so your heels leave the floor, rushing to press your back flat against the drywall. He’s hoisted you up high enough to set your ass against the thin, tall table next to the door which usually holds his keys.

Your legs parted with him standing between them, he places his hands on the tops of your thighs. A low chuckle rumbles out of him, his tidy fingernails trailing up your flesh. “Just as hot as me, hmm? Is he really, Y/N?” His left hand jumps from your thigh to your cunt, the only barrier between you two your skimpy panties. The heat emanating off his palm catches you off guard, a moan tearing out of you as he easily cups your covered sex, sending a searing fever through your body.

“Fuck,” you whimper, hips bucking instinctively against his palm, your body hoping for some kind of friction. The heat makes your pussy twitch, stirring as a cat slowly pulled from a deep slumber.

He tilts his head, as if he doesn’t understand why you’re breathless. “Huh? What was that?” He wiggles his fingertips a bit, enjoying how you whine as the ends of his blistering fingers dig into your core through the material of your panties. Your wetness drips through the thin cloth to coat his hot digits, making it easier to glide them against you.

“More, Shouto,” you squeak, panting heavily as his fingers rub along your slit at an infuriatingly slow pace.

Shouto lets out a low purr of satisfaction at your plea, savoring how your smooth leg tenses up underneath his other palm. Your sweet whimpers are music to his ears, his right hand moving around your thigh to meander toward your ass. “No, baby. Not until my angel answers me,” he murmurs, ducking his head down and placing his lips against the delicate skin on your neck.

A wayward moan evades your gasping lungs as his tongue ravishes your flesh, his teeth scraping over the wet skin. Your legs wrap around his waist, wiggling your body forward so your soft breasts press up against his hard chest, your cunt inching closer to his crotch. “Ugh— nooo,” you gasp as a fingertip presses harshly against your core, just barely pushing your panties into your pussy.

“No? No what?” He laughs darkly, his breath tickling your sensitive collarbone. He draws back from you, his intense gaze focusing on the other side of your neck before he looks directly at you, a sinister glint in his eyes.

Your lip trembling, the brat you’d been so ready to let free is for once taciturn at his dominance. Your submissive nature leaking out in desperation, you whine when his fingertip recedes slightly, leaving your panties barely inside of you without the pressure you really want. “No— Shinsou’s not nearly as hot as you, Shouto!” You rush out, heavy breaths making your chest rise and fall swiftly, restless for his touch to return to you.

But Shouto does not seem appeased by your admission. In fact, his gaze becomes a glare, his mouth curling into a snarl as he grabs your hips, crushing your body against his. “I hate hearing another man’s name come out of your pretty little mouth, Y/N,” he growls.

You’re shocked by his possessiveness, your eyes widening like saucers as his teeth skim your pouting lips. His proclamation makes a cocktail of doubt and lust unfurl in the corners of your body, but you’re torn as you wonder if he really thinks of you as his. Before you can ponder the meaning behind his statement, his eyelids shut and he smashes his lips onto yours.

Your arms are around his neck in less than a second, all thoughts vanishing as your nails scratch his scalp through the short, buzzed hair at the base of his undercut. He groans against your mouth, eliciting a moan from you in response. He takes the opportunity in stride, his hot tongue thrusting into your mouth as hot steam puffs out his nose, his calloused hands squeezing your body carnally. Your lips dance with his clumsily, your other hand cupping the corner of his sharp jawline and pulling his lips closer to yours.

He pulls away from you as your hips begin to grind against his, his eyes still closed with his lips pulling back into a snarky smile. Your needy mewl of disappointment makes his eyes slit open, regarding you with a predatory gaze. He takes in your desirous expression, his stare cold yet sizzling with passion. “You let him defile your perfect skin, angel?”

The hickey Shinsou had left is barely even that— nearly indistinguishable from your skin tone— yet Shouto’s eyes make the flesh on your neck blister with his scalding intensity. Your cheeks flush red, his words fanning the fire inside of you as you bite your lip. You had hoped he wouldn’t notice, but now you realize it was foolish of you to even allow yourself to think his perceptive gaze would skip over something so blatant.

“This heavenly body is mine to mark,” he hisses, a hand fisting your hair and pulling your neck back roughly to reveal the hidden skin from the shadows. The vaguely purple mark now on display in the dim mood lighting of his entryway, more steam billows from the man as he sneers in contempt. “And only mine. Got it, baby?” He does not allow you to answer— his mouth attacks the bruise, harshly sucking the skin while he washes away any recollection of the other man with ferocious swipes from his strong tongue.

Your back bows, your body wriggling in his grasp at the surge of devastating arousal that pulses through you. You shriek his name, hands clawing hysterically into his shoulder and the soft hair atop his head. Your pussy clenches around nothing, making you very aware of the aching need for him to claim you building in your core. Your legs snag his hips closer to yours, his body crashing into you as he grunts, lips finally releasing your battered skin. Without a doubt, the once indistinct mark is now more akin to the remnants of a punch to the throat, the colors already eclipsing into a deep shade of violet.

The lust crackles in the air between you two like thunder, your body a savannah ready to receive the generous relief of the first deluge in months. God, it’d only been a week since you last saw the man, but the unmitigated yearning for him to ravage you is the only emotion you can process.

“Please, Shouto, I need you to fuck me,” you beg, the words slipping out of you like a wet bar of soap from your desperate clutches. You’re mortified at your shamefully wanton admission, your cheeks still red and your body flushed, nearly shaking. You are not accustomed to this submissive side of yourself, but the brat inside of you only watches on in avid curiosity. If he doesn’t escalate this tryst fast enough, you’re afraid your body will fold like a limp noodle in his strong arms.

Shouto seems just as affected as you, his pupils dilated and his erection painfully straining against the confines of his slacks. His hands leave your frame, going to loosen the collar of his shirt by yanking his tie loose and then beginning to unbuckle his belt. You lean forward, your lips meeting his again as your fingers eagerly land on his cheeks, beckoning him closer to you. He moans into your mouth, fist nearly ripping the leather belt from the loops on his slacks, the metal of the snake-shaped buckle klinking loudly as he discards it carelessly onto the tabletop. Hands trailing up your spine, he tugs the zipper of your dress down your back, effortlessly lifting your hips in one hand to slip the garment under your ass and off your legs.

The inferno of jealousy ignites once again as he appraises your figure, clad in a matching set of white silky lace adorned with satin ribbons on each hip and one beneath the valley of your breasts. You’d worn this and Shinsou had almost seen such a marvel? Seen your delectable body in this gorgeous lingerie that he himself had never feasted his starved eyes upon?

Unaware of his change in mood, your lips move along his, begging for him to kiss you back as your tongue swipes his full bottom lip. His palms slide along your back, moving to cup your ass cheeks as he picks you up. You nibble on his earlobe as he swiftly carries you to his bedroom, his fingers jabbing into your behind in response. He kicks open the ajar door forcefully, unflinching as the doorknob nearly cracks the wall. Sliding onto the edge of the mattress, he sits with you on his lap, your legs still secure around his torso. His rough palms glide over your hips, rounding your waist and seizing your breasts, lifting the flesh to sit more perkily on your chest in perfectly round spheres.

“Why are you so fucking gorgeous, Y/N?” He groans, eyes closing in pleasure as you feel his cock twitch beneath you. He presses his mouth to the supple skin just above the cusp of the bra, slurping and nipping and leaving a trail of pretty pink marks. “You’re damn ethereal, angel.”

You’re gasping for air, hips unabashedly rolling against his, the feeling of his strained length making your desire for him to fuck you senseless multiply. Your hands latch onto his broad shoulders to steady yourself, your mind spinning dizzily with desire and the prolonged buzz from your earlier drinks.

“Take off my tie.”

The command rouses you from your far-away state, your fingers slightly trembling as you work on the silky material of the tie. After what seems like an eternity, the knot loosens and the tie slides off his neck into your hands. Shouto’s lips cover yours again, instantly enchanting you so that you don’t notice the sleek item slip through your fingers.

All of a sudden your front meets the cool sheets, your lips ripped away from his. Instead your face meets his pillow, engulfing your senses in the sexy, virile smell of him. You moan into the pillow, ass pushing into the air as your cunt throbs between your legs, ready to be taken in whatever manner he decides. His knees land on either side of your hips, his bulge rubbing into your ass teasingly as his hands close around your wrists. Tugging them behind your back carefully, he loops the tie around the both of them and fastens the knot with a firm pull, jerking once more for good measure.

You swallow into the pillow, teeth poking out to capture your bottom lip when he trails a sole finger along your spine. He’d never tied you up like this before, and the concept excites you to the point that your arousal visibly permeates your white panties.

“Do you feel that?” Shouto inquires, rutting his hips against your bottom so his clothed cock rubs between your ass cheeks. He’s panting lightly, his palms groping your ass and pinching the skin torturously. “Can you feel how much I want you, Y/N?”

“Fuck yes,” you answer, your head turning to lay against the pillow so he can see half your face and hear your voice. “I want you too, Shouto— I need you.”

He sighs at your saccharine words, almost swayed by your submissive antics. If he gives in now, his cock could be in your tight hole in just seconds… But then he wouldn’t get to have his way with you.

“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re desperate, baby,” he remarks, grasping your hips and pulling you down the sheets. He maneuvers you over his lap, and your eyes bug out of your skull as you assume position, knowing what comes next— he’d only done this once before but the memories of that night makes your pussy twinge excitedly. Your arms tied behind your back, your face dangles perilously beside his ankle, your forehead almost skimming the wooden floor. Your body is stiff, and Shouto hums as his hands drift along every inch of your back, ass, and the backs of your thighs.

“I wanna give you what you want, angel, but I promised I would remind you who you belong to, didn’t I?” His words are phrased like a question, but his tone implies them as a statement. Unsure what he wants, you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue.

Apparently, that’s the wrong move, because his freezing hand slaps down hard onto your ass. A mix between a shout and a whine falls out of your lips, your fingers clutching onto themselves in apprehension. Your breathing picks up, ascending into a pant as his other hand caresses the reddened skin with a soothing heat exuding from his palm.

“Did you know I was going to be at the club tonight?”

His question catches you off guard, and you think for a moment before replying with a simple, honest “No.”

Shouto lets out a long sigh, his warm hand leaving your ass and making you tense in preparation.

“So you wore this little number thinking you would just show it to whomever you went home with?” Oh, that’s where he’s going with this.

Again, you’re not sure how to answer. Either way will be unsatisfactory— either you say yes and that would certainly result in a jealous smack, or you say no and he’d spank you for lying to him. You cannot come to a decision fast enough, and the next frigid slap across your other ass cheek steals your breath away as you whimper, your pussy clenching in sadistic delight.

“Answer me, angel. Or I’ll turn this flawless little ass of yours scarlet.”

“I bought it for you!” You blurt out meekly, your cheeks flushing with mortification. It’s not a direct answer to his question, but it’s more than enough to amuse him.

The warmth of his left hand feels hotter this time as it curves around your irritated skin. “Oh?” Shouto all but purrs, his brow raised in interest. “For me, angel?”

You nod, even though your head is below his eye level. “I was gonna wear it tonight, just for you,” you whisper sincerely, blush bright red as your thumbs rub over your knuckles in a self-soothing manner. Deciding you’re already deep enough into your embarrassing confession, you finish your thought with your eyes scrunched shut as you prepare yourself for what you know will come next. “But you rainchecked, so I… thought Shinsou might enjoy it instead.”

Shouto remains eerily quiet for a moment, your heartbeat accelerating wildly as he leaves you waiting, questioning just how he will react. Your body jumps as his left hand swirls around your hips, his arm resting on your back to gather your ass higher across his lap. The neat bows on your panties unravel at your hips, the cool air hitting your swollen cunt as the material is snatched away and discarded. He forces you to wait for another dizzying pause, the urge to squirm in his grasp tempting but you force yourself to stay motionless.

Tears spring into your eyes as his palm crashes against you, his arctic hand causing your body to thrash in recoil, and a strong gust of chilled wind slapping against your dripping folds. A shaky breath escapes you, morphing into a distraught cry when his hot thumb plunges into your aching core, rubbing and curling against your shuddering walls with spite.

“I thought I told you not to say his fucking name,” Shouto jeers, taking his thumb out of you to rub mercilessly betwen your petals, spreading your abundant slick with ease. Coasting down to your clit, he smirks as you sob, your legs quaking.

Your hips jut backwards on their own accord, forcing his thumb to penetrate your cunt again. You moan at the stimulation, squeezing the digit and grinding so it presses against your velvet walls.

He chuckles, pressing the finger as deep as he can and savoring the shameless wails the action induces. “How can you look so pure and act so naughty?” He wonders aloud, his frosty hand trailing along your thigh as he works his thumb inside of you. “You’re really just a little slut, aren’t you? Fucking yourself with my finger so brazenly.” He sighs as he feels your core clenching around his thumb, grinning as you whine at the loss of the digit.

“Please, just fuck me,” you exclaim, turning your face to look at his haughty gaze above you, “Make me forget about anyone else!”

Shouto pinches your inflamed ass cheek, forcing another whimper to croak out of your throat. “Aha, is that your game, angel? Want me to fuck you so hard I’m the only man you see? Fuck this little pussy so good no other cock can satisfy you, hmm?” He maneuvers your body effortlessly, positioning you to face him as you sit on his lap. The smooth material of his slacks irritates your sore ass slightly, but all you can bring yourself to do is nod, your arms shuffling behind you with the want to reach out and touch him.

His hands settle on the apex of your thighs, rugged fingertips soothing the skin there before he lifts your body, standing and placing you neatly on the floor before him. Casting an innocent look up at him, you shuffle to your knees, arching your back to your breasts and ass pop out for his aerial vantage point.

“You know what to do, don’t you baby?” Shouto snickers as he untucks his shirt and begins to snap open the buttons down the center of his chest, revealing his creamy skin to your lustful eyes. Leaving the shirt on with his abs on display, he undoes the clasp and zip at the front of his hips, slowly unveiling the delicious V tapering south below his slacks. You squirm in impatience, eyes glued to the trail of fine, bicolored hair he uncovers as his slacks sag tantalizingly slow. His thumbs slither underneath the elastic band across his pelvis, lowering the hem just enough to show you the base of his thick, hard cock. “Alright, angel,” he rumbles, and you feel a stray bead of arousal drip down your thigh at his gruff tone, “Convince me you deserve to have this cock in you.”

As soon as he shoves his briefs low enough for his length to spring free, your lips drown his cockhead with haste, your tongue welcoming his hot, heavy tip with eager flicks. Shouto groans when you suck abruptly, your cheeks hollowing as you allow his member to drive deeper into your mouth. His hand landing on the back of your head, you take that as your cue to leap forward, slamming the entirety of his impressive cock into your open throat as your nose brushes into his abdomen.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Shouto gasps, his hips bucking into your face and shoving the tip of his dick into the depths of your throat.

Tears beading in your eyes, you refuse to let up, releasing a loud moan that makes his cock vibrate. Shouto throws his head back, his fingers curling in your hair as his hips recede, leaving only the tip inside your mouth and you gratefully take in a breath of air before he shoves back in.

“You take my cock so well, angel— fuuuuck, just like that,” he grumbles, pistoning into your face at a slow, deep tempo, the back of your throat caressing his tip delectably as a fat tear races down your cheek. Your cheeks flush pink and your chest tightens from the lack of air, but Shouto’s low grunts falling on your greedy ears has your cunt pulsing with need, your spit trickling down your chin. Shouto’s rabid gaze locks with yours, monitoring your wet eyes and your pleading pout as he speaks, “You look so beautiful slobbering on me like this, my little slut.”

You flutter your eyelashes at him, humming on his length as you continue to bob back and forth. Your tongue lathering the veiny underside of his length, the promiscuous flavor of salty pre blooms on your tastebuds. Your head recedes back, keeping just the swollen head inside your mouth as you twirl your tongue in circles around him.

You pop his cock out of your mouth, and send him a closed-lip, coy smile as you smear the slick tip against your mouth. Shouto sighs when your half-lidded gaze meets his, your tongue poking out and curving to dawdle up and down his length.

“That’s enough, baby. Come here.” Shouto bends and picks you up from the floor, kneeling on the mattress and crawling toward the center with you in his arms. Your back collides with the silky sheets, your arms awkwardly stuck behind you with the tie rubbing your wrists. Shouto opens your legs, hovering over your body and making you suddenly feel small in comparison to him. Your cunt parts at the motion, exposing your twitching, saturated hole to him and sending a fresh blush to your cheeks. One hand propping himself up, the other stroking your cheek gingerly, he ushers you to look at him. He whispers to you, his voice calm yet enticing, “You want me to make you feel good, angel?”

“Please,” you implore, your voice hoarse and quiet from his abuse on your throat, “Please touch me, Shouto.” Your mind hazy with a lascivious fog clouding your senses, you can barely find the words to beg.

Even just his hands floating down to your breasts makes you shiver. Your lip between your teeth again, Shouto smirks at you as his fingers pinch the ribbon holding your bra together. Deliberately taking his time, he unravels the neat bow, examining how the silky fabric falls apart so smoothly. The bra cups fall to the side, exposing the smooth skin of your breasts to his feasting eyes. You release a string of mewls as his lips graze the marks he’d left behind earlier, darkening the blemishes with gentle bites. Tongue tracing around your areola, your thighs squeeze around his waist when the warm muscle brushes along a pebbled nipple. Pressing your lips together harshly as he sucks the pert bud into his mouth, your hips jolt against his. His hand kneads your other breast expertly, tweaking your nipple between his skilled fingers. The rough pads of his fingertips only make your nipples stand out more, scraping against you and sending your head spinning.

“You like that, Y/N? Want all my attention on you, don’t you, greedy girl?” Shouto purrs, your breast falling from his lips as he grins at your cheekily.

Swallowing another moan, your breath comes out ragged as you retort, “I could say the same for you, baby.” His fingers on your nipple press together in a pinch, eliciting a strained whimper from you.

Shouto chuckles, poking his tongue out to rove over your other breast, flicking the nub playfully before he speaks a single word. “Touché.” Drifting lower between your legs, his lips leave a wet path down your torso, nibbling and slickening your skin. His mouth littering your body with kisses, an artist eager to make a fresh blank canvas his own. Hot breath colliding with your glistening sex, he groans at the sight of you spread before him. “But damn, angel, can you really blame me?”

Without any warning, he thrusts his tongue into your folds, swiping vertically along your slit and dipping into your entrance with a moan, eyes closed as he relishes your sweet nectar. Your hips dig into the mattress as you struggle to handle the instant relief his touch provides, unfiltered noises of pleasure escaping you. One of his hands slides underneath your thigh to cup your ass and bring your body closer to his face.

Every time Shouto’s mouth is on you, you’re reminded of just how good he is at pleasuring you. He alternates between rubbing his tongue along your silky inner walls and curling the muscle around your clit, sucking the nerve into his mouth and applying just enough suction to steal your breath away. Your body reacts to his touch naturally, with each moan summoned true and raw.

His fingers prod your sex gently, coating the digits in your essence before they slide into your body at a snail’s pace. The friction of his touch inside of you makes your legs clamp around his head, eliciting a deep laugh from the man that reverberates against your clit. Your eyes roll backwards as he begins to pump the digits at a reasonable pace, knuckles curling deeply in search of that plush spot that makes you fall apart underneath him. Saliva mixing with your arousal, Shouto’s chin is drenched in the sinful concoction as he continues his hunt with determination.

“S-Shit,” you choke as his fingertips push into just the right place, your thighs gripping his head so tight you think you’ll crush him. But Shouto doesn’t seem to care, angling his wrist to gain better access, lithe fingers speeding up as his teeth graze your clit. His vigilant eyes fix on your face twisted in ecstasy, minding how your pussy begins to clench onto his digits in desperation, trying their best to suck them back inside. Your heels dig into his broad back as your body begins to squirm, preparing for your first orgasm of the night.

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Shouto pulls back. Your eyes fly open to look at him in distress, your lips parting with a gasp as your climax flees without a trace. “Shouto!” You hiss, regarding his sultry smirk in shock. This man has some audacity. “I was about to-”

He interrupts you, his fingers gliding back into your core without resistance, lips wrapping around your clit again. The sudden pleasure of the intensity stokes the mere embers of your previous orgasm with fervor, your head flinging backwards onto the pillow as your spine bows.

Your palms behind your back are slick with sweat, your hardened nipples cutting into the still air of the room as your body writhes on its own accord. Your thighs tremble ever-so-slightly on top of his shoulders, your eyes shutting again as you try your best to hold in your whimpers.

But Shouto doesn’t like that, his mouth abandoning your pearl to snarl, “If you wanna cum I’ve gotta hear your voice. I wanna hear you beg for me, baby.”

His dirty words send a new wave of humiliation crashing over you, your mind horrified at your body’s betrayal. Your submissive demeanor is by no means akin to your usual behavior during your weekly rendezvous, and you’re honestly impressed and shocked that Shouto had coaxed it out with such ease. Already you can feel the tension building in your core, your body happily receptive of his generous caress. Your chest heaves as you attempt to even your frazzled breaths, but once your focus switches to that, the pleasure increases exponentially between your legs. Your cunt quivers obviously, Shouto’s eyebrow raising as he shoots you a taunting look.

“I’m the only one who can get you so close so quick, angel. Aren’t I?” His mouth leaves your clit to speak but his teeth capture the nerve instead as he speaks, his hot breath steaming against your throbbing cunt.

Your chin against your chest, you nod vigorously, your hips inching closer to close the distance between your cunt and his mouth. Your fingers curled into fists against the sheets, your back sticks to the sheets with perspiration.

Shouto shakes his head, teeth releasing your aching clit as he clicks his tongue at you. “I said, let me hear you, Y/N.” His fingers pull out, the fingertips just barely inside as he rims your entrance, just enough to keep your pussy throbbing. He exhales, an icy breath rushing over your sopping sex.

“N-No!” You wail, your voice nearly breaking as your orgasm fades away once again. You were so fucking close! You let out another sob, tossing your head to the side in humiliating agony.

“There’s that divine voice of yours,” Shouto chuckles, nipping your inner thigh playfully. Taking his fingers away, his thumb replaces them as it glides over your soaked slit, dipping into your clenched core amusedly before tearing it away again. Your destitute whine only feeds his dominance, and he rolls his thumb over your puffy nerve gently, enjoying how your hips buck weakly in response. “Come on now, angel. Just tell me what I want to hear.”

Your chest jolts as his thumb presses down just a pinch, cruising down to rub your entrance brusquely. “You’re the only one that can make me so breathless, Shouto. Please,” your voice wavers as you grovel, eyes locking with his, “Please, make me cum! I need your touch, I need your cock, I— I need you!”

Shouto’s gaze flickers for a moment before he smirks, ducking down to kiss your clit softly. “See, baby? Was that so hard?” He murmurs, his words rumbling on your shivering pussy before his tongue parts your folds, driving deep inside you.

You scream at the intense bliss as his thumb works quickly over your clit, his tongue assaulting your velvet insides. Your thighs weakly tighten around his head, your body unable to stay still as the pleasure wracks through you. Lewd moans and swears tumble out of you as you grind against his face, thrilled by the way his tongue never tires. The pressure between your legs is back and faster heightening, your eyes flying open in shock at how astonishingly fast your climax is approaching.

“S-Shouto, I— I’m—,” is all that you can get out before you seize in his arms, your entire body spasming in ecstasy. Shouto only pins your hips down against the mattress with his free hand, forcing your legs to stay open as he continues to assault your cunt, tongue pummeling your tender core and thumb abusing your clit. You can’t even let out a moan because your lungs are empty— all that slithers out of you a string of shrill and broken cries. The pleasure thrums through your body from head to toe, your fingers and toes curling and splaying as sweat runs down your skin.

Shouto diligently continues to lap at your cunt, slurping up the fresh essence dripping out of you onto the sheets. When he pulls back all he can see is your blissed-out, flustered expression, and your nipples standing upright in arousal. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he tears the shirt off his shoulders in one swift motion. His slacks shed just as quick, he grabs your hips and throws you onto your front, your face once again in his pillow. “You came without my permission, angel. You wanna be a slut? I’ll treat you like a fucking slut,” he snarls, rugged palms coiling around your hips and forcing them into the air, bending your spine so your body transforms into a delicious arch.

Your heart slams against your ribs in apprehension, your mind still too woozy to make a complaint as his cock plunges inside of you. Your walls spread for his length welcomingly, your arousal and your cum lubricating your cunt. Your eyes roll back at the fullness— the stretch of him stuffing your cunt with his thick cock so delectably euphoric. You’re so wet that it doesn’t even hurt as he impales you, pleasure the only feeling coursing through you.

Shouto growls, your pussy hugging his length so snugly he has to take a moment for his head to stop spinning. “Fuuuck,” he utters huskily, sliding out halfway and inspecting how your cunt grips his slippery cock so desperately.

You cry out as he thrusts back in, the angle already perfectly locating your g-spot and making stars flash across your vision. Your body shakes as a palm cracks against your ass, more tears collecting on your lower lashes at the pain that hurts so good.

Shouto grabs the tie around your wrists with the other hand, yanking your body backwards to slap against his hard torso. Hands flying to your hips, he drills into you as he holds you upright against him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches, cunt trembling at the familiar tension building deep inside of you.

“You wanna fuckin’ cum already, don’t you, slut?” Shouto barks, a hand leaving your hip to hold your breast, trapping your nipple between his long fingers. The friction he provides is exquisite, and long, unabashed moans float out of your parted lips.

“Yes! Yes! Please— Make me cum, Shouto!” You howl, your toes curling at the sacred pleasure so close to peaking within you. Lips latched onto the claim he had laid on your neck, his teeth pinch your skin. His ragged grunts in your ear make your core clench around him, about to reach salvation for the second time.

“Do it, Y/N. I want my slutty angel pussy to cum all over this cock,” he commands, forcing your hips to crash down onto his so his tip jabs your g-spot harshly.

Your body collapses at his approval, cunt squeezing and fluttering and leaking onto him as you release a lewd scream. White hot bliss shoots through you as sinful tides of delirium pull you under. Your body trembles as the ecstasy pulses in your veins, your jaw unhinged and your eyes rolled into your skull.

Shouto pushes you forward so your torso falls flat against the mattress limply. His hips do not stall, continuing to push into your tightened cunt with determination as he drags out your orgasm. “Where’s my nasty little brat now?” He laughs crudely, slapping your ass gently and grabbing the reddened flesh, pulling your hips back against his. “Nothing to say, hmm?”

As if your brain is functional enough to form words. Your limbs feel like jello, wiggling with pleasure and shock as he advances his plight. Your throat is dry from all the panting, your ass sore underneath Shouto’s oppressive grip. But it feels so fucking good, you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

Shouto sucks a breath in between his grinding teeth, watching how your ass bounces against his pelvis as his cock slides into your depths. Sweat dripping down his chest and along your back, his hold on you is tight enough to cut off circulation. His lip twitches as he recognizes his orgasm creeping up inside, and he groans as he pulls out of you abruptly.

You whine at the loss, but you’re silenced immediately as he flips your body and presses his lips to yours. His kiss is pleasantly soft, a harsh contrast to his rough hands which slide around your back and fumble with the tie around your wrists. His tongue pushes inside your mouth, searching for yours and caressing it at first touch. Once the silky material slips off you, his hands rove over your breasts, massaging the heavy flesh tenderly as his cock brushes along your slit. A string of saliva stretches between you as his lips leave yours, a hot, breathy sigh fanning over your face. “This beautiful body is all mine, Y/N,” he whispers, tip slipping between your folds and entering your cunt with ease.

Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling of your aching hole being filled once again, but the pain makes the pleasure so much more enjoyable. His lips wander along your neck as he begins to thrust into you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He kisses along your clavicle and down your breast, tongue washing over your nipple as his cock brushes along your velvet walls so perfectly.

The friction has your eyes nearly crossed, and the pleasure only intensifies when Shouto guides your legs to rest against his chest, your ankles by his ears. The angle allows greater access, his thick member reaching new depths that elicit a sharp gasp from you. His left hand pushes your abdomen down slightly, his thumb travelling south to flick along your clit lazily.

“Shit, Shouto, I— s-so sensitive,” you whimper, your hand timidly reaching out to rest on his flexing abdominal muscles. The sensation of him dragging against your g-spot so sensually causes your bottom lip to tremble, a tear sneaking down your cheek to land in your hair.

Shouto’s large hand guides yours to land on your thigh, and he tucks his arm so his own hand covers yours as he pulls your thighs closer to him. “One more, baby,” he moans, the thumb on your clit speeding up.

The extra attention summons that familiar build up in your core, a long whine falling from your lips. “I can’t, I can’t,” you mewl but your body says otherwise, pussy tightening slightly as your ankles cross behind his neck.

“I thought you wanted to cum, angel?” He uses your words against you as he sighs, hips picking up to ram into yours. He holds his breath as you clamp down on him, your sinful expression fueling his impending orgasm. “You gonna make me finish on my own?”

The thought of him blowing his load into you has you biting your lip, your hips shuffling against his. Shouto moans, thumb circling your puffy nerve even faster as he continues to pound into you. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room, the only noise to interrupt that your huffs and moans.

Steam billows from Shouto’s nose as his eyes nearly close, his abs flexing out of his torso as he fights to keep his orgasm at bay. His heavy breath and visible restraint convince your body to give in, and you weep as you sink into euphoria for the third time tonight. Shouto’s right there with you, a strangled growl mixed with a moan ripping from his lungs as his seed spurts into you, his cock twitching and balls draining as he falls to his elbows above you.

Your body feels sluggish as your limbs tremble slightly, the high from your orgasm still clouding your brain as your arms wrap around Shouto’s shoulders. His cold breath refreshes the moist, flushed skin on your neck, long eyelashes tickling your jaw as your nails scrape carefully down his spine.

When he pulls out your body feels incomplete, but Shouto nuzzles into your jaw affectionately, his hands sliding between the damp sheets and your skin to hold you close. He scatters sluggish, persistent kisses along your throat and up your jaw. And when he moves to your face, they only become longer and more intimate, gently guiding you back to reality.

You sigh in content as you lean in to capture his lips, moving sweet and slow against each other. Your digits amble into his hair, combing back the soft tresses so you can see more of his charming face. He moans at your touch, pleased by the soothing sensation of your fingers feathering along his scalp. His own hand follows your lead, fingers steering a stray hair off your forehead and gliding into your tresses to hold your head in his palm.

The pair of you continue to kiss for who knows how long, touching each other tenderly and savoring the feeling of skin against skin. Your lips melding into one, cradling one another fragilely as if you mutually fear the other will break without your embrace. You could spend eternity like this, high off his ambrosial, tender care.

You are the one to pull away first, knowing Shouto would keep this going until morning if he didn’t think you’d come back down from your high. Not that you would mind that, but you should probably clean up the mess that your passionate session had created— his release beginning to trickle out of you onto the sheets. As he pulls back, the emotions swirling in his striking two-toned gaze shock you. His brow is slightly creased as he nibbles at the corner of his lip, eyes darting around your face.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, sitting up and scooting off the mattress, disappearing around the corner of the bathroom door. The sound of water splashing in the sink fills the silence as you sit still, closing your eyes as the cogs in your brain begin to turn.

Oh god, you’d been so shameless tonight— you’d taunted him and he had made you fall apart and beg in return, bending to his every command. Sure, he had always been the dominant one in your rendezvous before, but tonight was different. He had been jealous, when he had no right to be. But is that why your heart is beating so quickly in your chest? Suddenly you’re anxious, overthinking as usual. This is just sex, right?

But then, why did you leave Shinsou’s side so quickly at the bar when Shouto had been the one to cancel on you? And then there was that, too— why had he just ditched his friends in the middle of boys’ night when it was the reason he cancelled on you in the first place? And he had clearly been furious at the thought of you spending the night with another man. Was it because he knew Shinsou? Or was it because he wanted to be exclusive with you?

Well, if he wanted to be exclusive friends with benefits, isn’t that the same thing as dating? Would he ever date someone like you? Wait, would you even be willing to date him? Do you want him to be your… boyfriend? Your eyes widen and a pink girlish blush emerges on your cheeks at the label. What are you, eight years old? Why do you feel so giddy at the possibility of him wanting you, for more than your body?

Shouto strolls out of the bathroom just in time to catch that embarrassing look on your face, but he only smiles sincerely at you and it makes you blush even harder. What the hell? You’re extra submissive for one night and now you’re thinking about your feelings for him? Wait, did you just admit you have feelings for him?

He clambers over to you in the middle of the bed, a washcloth draped on his slender finger. He leans down and pecks you like it’s no big deal, humming as his lips linger on yours just long enough to make you want more. Your body jumps at the feeling of the damp warmth the towel provides, but you relax as the feeling soothes your aching core.

“Was that okay? How do you feel, baby?” Shouto asks softly, watchful eyes gauging your expression as you look at him. “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself, but, I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You let out a breathless, mirthful chuckle at his concern, reaching out to put your hand on his strong arm. “No, I’m fine. And it was… great. Mind-blowing, actually,” you smile at him bashfully, hoping it was just as good for him.

Shouto’s eyes twinkle as he smiles back, nodding slowly. “It was, wasn’t it?” He helps you sit up, maneuvering you carefully off the bed and gesturing for you to use the bathroom.

After relieving yourself, you look at yourself in the mirror that hangs above the sink, vision falling on the massive bruise blossoming on your neck. You sigh when you inspect the purple mark, but when your gaze floats back to your face, you’re dumbstruck to find yourself grinning like a fool. Terror and thrill floods through you at the realization that if any other guy had left a mark this nasty on you, you’d be furious. And yet, having Shouto’s claim on you makes you feel like the luckiest girl on the planet.

Shit. Looks like you do want him to be your boyfriend.

You’re half expecting the reflection to show a stupid cartoon character with the way that your heart feels like it’s thumping out of your chest. Taking in a deep breath, you determinedly point at yourself in the mirror and breath out shakily, “You can do this.”

Exiting the bathroom, you return to find Shouto leaning against the headboard, the sheets pulled up to his waist and his fingers rubbing together awkwardly. His eyes on his lap, he almost looks anxious. But he notices your presence right away, peeling back the corner of the blanket and beckoning you to slide in.

Placing yourself stiffly on the side of the bed, you take in his confused expression. “I need to tell you something,” you say as steadily as possible. Man, that’s a scary sentence, even if you’re not on the receiving end.

Shouto’s lips part and he looks like he wants to say something, but he swallows whatever it was down and nods, his expression guarded. “I’m all ears,” he replies, placing his hand on the pillow in front of you.

With the spotlight on you, your throat feels dry as dirt, and you nervously shuffle, suddenly very conscious of your nakedness. “Um,” falls out of your mouth, anything to split the suffocating silence. Your palms are clammy, and your fingers delve into the folds of the sheets to hide your nerves. “I know this is gonna sound kind of lame, but… well, I um…” Shouto’s gaze is burning your face, your cheeks redder than ever as you will this humiliation to just end already. Sucking in another breath, the words blurt out of you. “I have feelings for you.”

The surprise on his features is unmistakable. All you can do is stare at him, frozen in uncertainty but strangely enough it feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A heavy one at that— one whose existence you refused to acknowledge until ten minutes ago.

“R-Really?” Shouto stutters, looking like he’s just seen a ghost with how wide his eyes are.

You aren’t sure how to take that response, but as soon as your gaze falls from his, his hand shoots out to latch onto your wrist. When you look back at him, a different emotion is painted over his face, one of… hope?

“I have feelings for you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, his own blush dusting over his cheeks. His eyes are soulful and hold nothing but candor and content.

Before you can process his words, his hands are rounding your waist and pulling your body toward his. A different kind of high bursts through you as his lips touch yours, joy storming through the both of you and warm, tingly static crackling between you. These kisses feel different— your heart feels like it’s about to pop, swelling with excitement and relief. Shouto begins to laugh against your lips, and the alluring sound infects you, too, as you join him with a giggle. The both of you are laughing at nothing in particular, but you don’t need a reason to let the noises of elation loose.

Once your laughter ceases, Shouto collects your chin in his hand and places a gentle kiss upon your grinning lips. When he pulls back, his eyes contain a wisp of that jealous fire that had consumed him only hours earlier, and he shoots you a mischievous smirk as he squeezes your ass playfully. “Do you think Shinsou could ever make you feel this good, angel?”

You roll your eyes, chuckling in exasperation at this man’s relentless, absurd envy. “Hmm,” you pretend to think for a moment before you lean closer to him, hands hung loosely around the back of his neck. “Shinsou? Never heard of him.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

you reached the end!! thanks for reading this long ass fic lmao, i know it was an investment. I hope the ending was not too cringe, I usually just end my fics after the nut but I wanted to try something new :’) be sure to lmk if you enjoyed <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

Note

I'd love to see Hashirama with prompt 74. “As long as you love me everything is alright. You…you do love me, right?”

👍.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, delusions, clinginess, angsty stuff

Prompt 74: “As long as you love me everything is alright. You...you do love me, right?”

You remembered that there had been often times where you had wished that Hashirama would just calm down since he was often a lot to deal with. He was always so clingy and the amount of affection he gave you was nearly suffocating, not to mention that you hadn’t forgotten the incident with your clothes. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem in here. No, that all was terrible too, but could be ended by a breakup. And that was the worst in here. Leaving him would be as good as impossible. Not only was there the danger of the whole village being disappointed in you as well as having his furious little bro in your neck, but Hashirama himself could possess quite the threat. He was Hokage. He had power. He could ruin you and your family’s life if he felt like and even get away with it. As much as Hashirama was a sunshine and almost a bit like a child, you had catched up onto one thing at some point into this relationship. Hashirama had a dark side to him. Everyone had, you knew that. You had one as well. But it became dangerous when this dark side was able to ruin someone else like Hashirama was. Luckily he didn’t let this side out very often, it was rarely seen because around you he was always the loving and smothering husband. But that made it also so much more terrifying if this side of him came out. Because it was almost like witnessing a nightmare in real life when seeing this man getting serious and mad.

But you had never seen him like this. He seemed so...so discouraged. So hopeless. So small. You had expected that he would be depressed after Madara had left the village, the man he had considered as his best friend. The man who he had happily introduced you to, the man who he had always stood up for, the man who had betrayed him and had attacked him. You couldn’t even image how hard this must have been for him. And the comments from Tobirama hadn’t really helped at all. He had just scolded him that he should have listened to him before and that he had been right after all about Madara. You and Mito had to literally hit him on his head to snap him out of his lecturing speech and help him realize how devastated Hashirama had looked. You had often seen him sulking about something or being depressed over more childish things. But this had only lasted for a short while, not concerning you too much at the end of the day. He had always been able to get over those small things very quickly and go back to his more goofy self. And that was the thing that had you currently worry the most. He hadn’t gone back to his old self. Instead he had been those last few days after the incident more quiet and thoughtful than usual, causing you to worry yourself almost sick over him. But the most heartbreaking thing you had witnessed so far was how needy he had suddenly gotten. It wasn’t the usual clingyness, it was almost like a desperation, a desire to know that you wouldn’t leave him like his friend had.

“Hey Hashi. What’s wrong?” Hashirama turned slightly surprised, slightly tired around when hearing your soft voice calling him. It was early morning, the sky still dark and most people would have still payed soundly asleep in bed. But not you two. When his gaze met yours he gave you a small smile. But it didn’t look like the ones he usually gave you. Of course there was still warmth and eternal love in it, but he also looked exhausted as well as if he was in pain. “Oh. Hey, darling. I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep. Go back to bed, it’s still pretty early.” You didn’t move, instead glancing with eyes filled with sadness at him. He looked so incredibly vulnerable as hunched over as he was sitting on the couch. Where was the once so energetic and always happy guy who you had so often a day called a moron because he had done something stupid? Where had that man gone? And when would he come back? You couldn’t just let him sit here and let him drown in self sorrow. You had to do at least try to do something for him. He had done so much for you too. So you slowly made your way over to the couch, slowly sitting down next to him. He didn’t react, instead staring with a hollow yet also sorrowful look in his eyes in the space, telling you what he was seeing right now before his inner eye could only be seen by him. You felt a small “pang” in your chest when seeing him spacing out like this, his eyes having lost the light they used to always have inside of them. How could you have ever thought of his personality as annoying and too much? Had you ever even considered that this might have been the reason why he had been even able to reach the position he was currently in right now? He had worked more than anybody else to establish the village and make peace with the other villages. His sometimes almost careless and easygoing looking attitude had given people always courage and hope.

But now he looked so broken, like a small child who needed protection. Or just someone who would be there for you. And if this person had to be you then you would damn well do it. Everything to get him out of his misery, the whole atmosphere in the village had already started to change and became more gloomy due to their leader being on his knees. You sighed worriedly, laying your hand on top of his. Hashirama didn’t look at you, but was quick to grab your hand and intervene his fingers with you, the pressure he put on your hand being only a bit too tight as if being scared that something might happen at the moment. “Hashirama,”, the tone you used reminded you of the one your mother used to use on you, strict yet gentle,”please look me in my eyes.” You had the feeling that he needed a moment or two before your words finally seemed to register in his brain and you almost thought that he wanted to avoid looking you in your face by the way he turned so incredibly slowly his head around to meet your gaze. He was ashamed, you could tell from the way he didn’t dare to look you in your eyes, always looking quickly down whenever he managed to look you for a short second in your eyes. You tried to give him some time to adjust, waiting patiently until he seemed to be a bit less tense than before.

“It’s not your fault, you know. I mean with Madara.” It wasn’t a very wise decision to mention his name like this, but you had to directly talk with Hashirama about this, even though he stiffened when hearing his name again. “No one blames you Hashi. Not the village, not your clan, not your brother nor Mito. And me neither. We all know you tried your best. The best might sometimes not be enough, but it’s the will that counts. You don’t need to be perfect or anything like this. It was Madara’s decision and you couldn’t have done anything to help him. I understand that it must be hard for you to live with the knowledge that your best friend turned against you and that you had to fight him. It’s a heavy burden on your soul and heart, but you aren’t alone with this. You have so many people in your life who are there for you. You just have to look out of the window and see the village, the people in there who are willing to help you. As harsh as it may sound, but you have to eventually let go of him. I don’t demand from you to erase those memories of of you and him together, but I ask you to accept that you couldn’t have done everything to stop him and to stop thinking that it’s all your fault. There are people who need you right now. So please stop being so sad and try to live with it. And if you aren’t strong enough to carry this on your own, I’m here for you just like your brother, Mito and so many more. Alright?”

Hashirama stared shocked at you, looking like he hadn’t expected you to say this. But only a short moment later the impact of what you had just said hit him. You had never seen him that emotional before which caused your heart to clench from sadness seeing him like this. You could see the visible hurt in his eyes, the feeling of not being able to do anything and prevent it from happening, the hurt of being betrayed from someone you had known for such a long time. The thing that made it even more bitter for you was that you also saw some of the emotions his eyes always used to hold for you when looking at you. The adoration and infinite love he used to have and still had for you. Together with his somewhat forced yet also thankful and sincere smile it let you feel an emotion that you couldn’t name, not knowing how to feel about the dualism of feelings displayed on his face. “As long as you love me everything is alright.” When saying this he suddenly crawled closer towards you, hugging your waist and laying his head on your lap. And you felt like your heart had just shattered in your chest, witnessing this complete action of utter desperation from his side. He had just come crawling to you like an insecure child needing comfort.

“You...you do love me, right?” You glanced down at him, looking at his eyes that begged you silently to tell him you did. What was this? Why was he doing this? Was he afraid that you would leave him too just like Madara did? Was that the reason why he was acting so needy right now? Did he need to hear that you loved him that badly? There were so many quest swirling around in your mind, but you put them all for the moment aside, focusing on the man clinging tightly onto your waist and tugging slightly on the fabric of your pajamas, wanting, needing you to answer his question. And how could you have said no to him when he was in such a fragile state like right now. “Of course I do, Hashi. I always will.”

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere hashirama #yandere hashirama senju

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arvandus · 4 years

Text

Touch (Pt 6)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Special thank you to @salvator-heartbreaker who has helped me hash out this chapter and some future plot details; this would not be as amazing as it is without her help!

Chapter warning: Buckle up, y’all. This chapter is LONG. Like, 12k words long (separating it into multiple chapters was NOT an option). Prepare yourself for a roller coaster of feels. Also, please PLEASE be aware of the warning tags.

Recommended Chapter Songs: Overdose by grandson/The Drug In Me Is Reimagined by Falling in Reverse

Part 1 Part 5

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 6 - The Long Night

After Dabi left, you cleaned up the various items around the room. You placed the pills back into your bag from where they were in your pocket. A moment later, you decided against that location and put the bottle under your pillow within your pillowcase. You changed your mind again, taking the pill bottle into the bathroom to stuff it with cotton. It would keep the pills from rattling. You returned the bottle to its hiding place under your pillow. If Dabi came back looking for more, you wanted to have them within reach and not where he’d immediately look for them. You placed the damp washcloth in your hamper and drank some water before lying in bed with your phone in your hand.

You were only on your phone for a few minutes before you felt sleep start to drag at your eyelids, so you turned off your light and put your phone on your nightstand. Sleep was elusive, however. You stared at the ceiling pensively. Something nagged at your mind, but in your groggy, tired state, you couldn’t figure out what it was. You felt each minute tick by with painstaking slowness, frequently checking the time on your phone while your thoughts ran a mile a minute. It mulled over what had transpired, what was said and done, and how you felt… It was like flipping through an entire novel in a matter of seconds and then trying to describe a specific, obscure scene hidden within its pages.

By your fifth minute, you gave up and sat up in your bed. Your hands went under your pillow, feeling the familiar bottle in your fingers.

Realization hit. You quickly turned on your lamp. You pulled the bottle out of your pillowcase and spilled the contents out onto your comforter. You counted the amount and your breath stopped.

No.

You counted again.

FUCK.

You always made it a point to know exactly how many pills you had of anything you carried, but especially so for these pills.

You quickly put the remaining medication back into the bottle, counting them as they fell in with a tap. Then, you got up out of your bed and hid the pills inside an unused pair of shoes which you then put into a black duffle bag in the top of your closet. You only hoped Dabi didn’t come looking for them. At this rate, if he was willing to steal from you, then he’d be willing to rifle through your things.

Betrayal, cold and hard, soaked into your bones. You tried to reason with yourself, to talk yourself through what you knew about addiction, what you had learned in med school. But taking what was learned in a textbook, with no emotional attachment, and applying it into this situation did little to assuage the feelings roiling within you. This wasn’t hypothetical. This was real.

Even worse than the betrayal was the cold hard fact: Dabi could kill himself. And all because you left him alone for less than a minute. Did he already take them? How long ago did he leave your room? Your brain didn’t have time to do the math as you dashed across the hallway to his door.

You didn’t bother to knock – not this time. Thankfully, Dabi must have been so out of it that he forgot to lock it. You barreled in like a fiery chariot knocking down Hell’s gate, slamming the door behind you loudly enough to wake the dead. You didn’t care. In that moment, nothing else mattered but getting those pills back.

Dabi sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He looked up at you groggily when the door slammed. His movements were noticeably slower, his pallor a sickly grey and shining with sweat.

“You took my pills.” You seethed. “Give them back.”

“What?” Dabi slurred.

“My pills, Dabi! Three of them are missing! Give them to me!”

He looked down at his hands as if confused by what they were. “I don’t have them.” He replied.

“Bull-fucking-shit!” you shot back. “I swear to God, Dabi, I will search this room until I find them.”

He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I already took them. And stop fucking shouting.”

“You what???” You gasped. “What the fuck, Dabi?? Why would you do that??”

He stood up now, angry at your presence, at your justified rage that he knew he was responsible for but didn’t want to face. He was barely keeping himself together as it was. His insides felt like a writhing, fiery snake. His head felt filled with cotton. And underneath it all, the pain hummed low like a purring beast. He couldn’t decide if the pills he took were actually working or not. The relief he thought they’d give him evaded him like a shadow.

“I told you I needed more.” Dabi replied.

“Dabi, you can O.D. on this!” you shot back.

“I’m not gonna O.D.” Dabi scoffed as he swayed on his feet. He fought the sickness rolling over him in waves, great crests threatening to drown him like a raging sea. He didn’t need this right now. Not with you here. Fuck. When did he get so fucking weak?

Your body instantly became poised to catch him if he fell. He needed to throw up what he took. That was the only option. Your mind frantically tried to assess if he was weak enough for you to overpower him, to try to put your fingers down his throat to trigger his gag reflex.

“Your drugs are weak as shit compared to what I was taking before. I can handle it.” He continued. “I know what I’m doing.” His eyes were unfocused as they tried to stare down at you.

Suddenly, the wave crested, higher than he could tread. Immediately his mouth began to water in sickly preparation, his gag reflex kicking in while his gut clenched. He stumbled to the bathroom, shoving you aside in the process, just in time to empty the contents of his stomach. It was clear, made of only the water he drank and the partially dissolved pills that he had stolen.

A wave of relief washed over you while Dabi emptied what remained of the drugs into the toilet. A part of you was still angry, wanting to give him an ‘I told you so,’ but you held back, instead keeping an eye on him from the bathroom doorway to make sure he was okay.

Once he was done, he leaned back against the bathroom wall, a pained grimace on his face, the metal rings pulling along his cheeks. His breaths were ragged and heavy. “Fuck.” He muttered. He should have eaten the stupid crackers. What a fucking waste.

Once you were sure he was okay for the moment, you paced back into the bedroom to try to calm your nerves. He threw up what he took. That was good. Of course, that also meant there was no telling how long your meds would stay in his system now, and once they started to wear off, he’d continue to suffer through withdrawal since you couldn’t give him more right away. This was just the beginning for him.

A knock on the door resounded into the room, interrupting your thoughts.

“Don’t answer it.” Dabi rasped from his spot next to the toilet.

You stared at him for a moment and waited while discomfort settled over you like an itchy blanket. You understood his need for privacy, but you also needed help… at least to have someone bring some water and food. It was going to be a long night and at this rate, Dabi was going to become severely dehydrated

Another knock came through, more persistent this time.

“Dabi,” called Toga’s voice. “Are you okay in there???”

Twice’s muffled voice followed. “He probably wants to be left alone. Fuck this guy.”

“I’m not gonna just leave him, Twice. You heard him in there.” Toga replied in annoyance.

Dabi groaned in frustration, his head in his shaking hands in denial. Why did it have to be Toga of all people? She was annoyingly persistent, poking her nose where it didn’t belong and not taking hints when her prying wasn’t welcome. The last thing he wanted was her and Twice standing outside his door while he hurled into the stinking toilet. They’d probably barge in without permission. You seeing him like this was bad enough – but at least he could excuse your involvement as the team’s medic, even if the vulnerability ate away at him. But letting them see him like this? He’d rather light everything on fire.

“Make them go away.” He whispered hoarsely.

You leapt at the opportunity, rushing to the door. You opened it to see Twice in his usual gear and Toga in a pink pajama set, her hair pulled back into twin buns. Her hand was outstretched as if ready to grasp an invisible doorknob.

“Hey guys.” You said through a fake bubbly smile. “It’s okay, I’m in here with him.”

“What the hell is going on??” Twice demanded.

“We heard a door slam, and yelling, and I’m pretty sure I heard someone throwing up.” Toga said crossing her arms.

They heard yelling – did they hear what you had shouted at Dabi? About him taking your drugs? You mentally scolded yourself for being so loud earlier. There had to be some way you could play it off.

You felt your skin get hot with embarrassment. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m helping him out.”

“What’s wrong?” Toga asked nosily. “Is Dabi hungover? He sounds like he’s hungover.”

“Stomach flu.” You improvised. You hoped they believed it. If they did, it’d give Dabi a reason to be left alone by the other league members for a few days while you helped him out.

Neither of them showed any doubt with your explanation. Toga made a disgusted face while Twice sighed. “Well, that’s a fucking relief. But keep the damn noise down!”

You smirked at his dual reactions. “Sorry, Twice.”

“Do you need anything?” Toga asked. “Water? Food?”

“Drugs?” Twice chimed in.

You froze like a deer in headlights for a moment before you realized he probably meant the kind that wasn’t illegal.

“Water and food would be appreciated. Something easy on the stomach, like crackers. And bananas if we have any left. I already have the other supplies I need.” You commented. Then, you remembered - Shit. Your supply bag was still in your room….

“Sure thing, big sis!” Toga replied through a cheery smile, her fangs prominent. “Come on, Twice. You can help me carry stuff.” Twice followed after her and you closed the door with a breath of relief before the sound of Dabi retching again made you go check on him.

His fingers grasped the toilet seat while his body shook, his knuckles as white as the porcelain they held onto. Spit dangled from his parted lips, his nose running, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought his body’s reactions to his poor choices.

After a minute, he leaned back and carelessly wiped his face with his bare arm, the fluids glistening on his skin in the light of the bathroom.

His face was pulled into a grimace, eyes squeezed shut against the brightness, his body slumped against the wall. “You should have taken Twice up on his offer.” He said with a forced grin through wet lips.

“Not funny, Dabi.” You scolded. “Drugs are the last thing you need. Besides, you know that’s not what he meant.”

“Well I certainly don’t think water and some fucking bananas are going to fix this.” He replied sourly.

“Better than your solution of taking six of my pills.” You shot back. “A lot of good that did you, huh?”

He opened his eyes to give you a cold glare, his mouth opening to protest. But his words were cut short by another round of vomiting, nothing coming up but thin strings of yellow bile from his empty stomach while his gut spasmed and clenched. You furrowed your brow. His nausea was getting worse, his vomiting more frequent. You wanted to use your quirk to alleviate his pain, but you couldn’t. Not for this. If his body couldn’t register the pain signals his gut was sending to his brain, then there was a chance the vomiting would stop. Throwing up was what he needed to make sure the stolen pills were out of his system.

Even aside from the vomiting, there was the issue of using your quirk too much, too soon. You could no longer fall back on your pills to manage your own pain if you pushed yourself too far. Your lower back itched uncomfortably, as if the very thought woke up the scarred nerves there, old memories threatening to follow in their wake. You pushed them aside forcefully by focusing on the man in front of you.

If you over-exerted yourself too soon, you wouldn’t be able to help him later when things got worse. Once these pills wore off, which you weren’t sure when that would happen, you wouldn’t be able to give him new ones right away. You were already short three pills after his little stint, and even if you did give him pills, his body might still reject them if it wasn’t ready for them. That would only make things exponentially worse. It was better to skip a dosage now and get back on track with the remaining medication you had. You’d pair what you’d allotted for him with your own quirk as an added relief; you only hoped the combination would be adequate until his pills became available for pickup.

Once he was done dry heaving, you handed him a hand towel from the hanging bar next to you. You had no idea if it was clean – he probably used it to dry his hands after washing them - but it didn’t really matter. It was better than using his arm again. He took it in silence, his eyes avoiding yours in what you could only describe as shame. Your heart clenched. You knew he didn’t mean for this to happen. No one ever does. You wanted to reassure him, to let him know it was all going to be okay, but words escaped you. How could you even begin to tell him something like that while he’s retching into a toilet in the wee hours of the night?

Before you could think of something to say, there was a familiar knock on the door. You forced yourself to step away and answer it. Sure enough, Toga and Twice were there, their arms full of offerings.

“Here you go.” Toga said, her arms filled with six water bottles. Twice also presented an array of items in his arms – a box of saltine crackers, some canned soup with a pull-top lid, and a couple of bananas.

“Thanks.” You replied, taking the items and placing them on Dabi’s desk. You were grateful neither of them tried to enter while you unloaded their arms; perhaps they really did believe Dabi had the flu and were too scared of catching it.

“You can go back to bed if you want. We’ll be fine.” you suggested.

“Let us know if you need anything else!” Toga offered with a toothy grin. You smiled your gratitude and closed the door as they turned to leave.

Once you heard their footsteps fade down the hall followed by the closing of bedroom doors, you returned to the bathroom with a water bottle in hand. You knew food wasn’t going to be an option for a while, but at least this might help. Even if he threw it back up, it was better than bile. But before you could even hand the bottle to him, he convulsed, hugging the toilet again, gagging and coughing. You knelt next to him patiently, ready to offer the water in your hand or the towel now forgotten on floor… whatever he needed.

He spit the drool dangling from his mouth and continued to hover over the toilet bowl with a groan. Everything hurt. His abs, his throat, his sinuses… his head was still muddled from a variety of factors – dehydration, lack of sleep, the drugs. He hated himself, reduced to a useless fucking puddle like the loser he was, and all while you were here watching him. You, who even though he let you down - even though he stole from you - continued to stay and care for him. He didn’t want that for you, and he didn’t want the guilt of your presence continuously reminding him of how he failed you while his body fell apart on him.

“Get out of here.” He said gruffly. “You don’t need to be here for this.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You replied. You knew he was pushing you away and you understood why, but that didn’t matter to you. Sure, you were mad at what he had done, but you also understood he couldn’t help it. His obvious shame was apology enough for now, and his well-being was more important to you than his pride.

“Leave.” He growled.

“I can’t.” You could feel tears start to sting at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t want to leave him. Not like this.

More dry retching overtook him, and guilt began to creep on you like a thorny vine, choking your words from your throat. He couldn’t fight you on this even if he wanted to; was it really fair to stay when he asked you to go? He made his decision clear – he wanted to be alone. Where were you supposed to draw the line between forcing your care on him for his safety versus respecting his need for privacy?

You stared at him as you warred within yourself. He obviously wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, and on the upside, he did throw up some of those pills. But what about later, when the pills wear off and the hunger returns? Could you trust that he would come to you, looking for what he knew you had? Or would he go elsewhere, and risk his safety on something potentially worse? You wanted to respect his wishes, but your body wouldn’t move.

Dabi’s world was spinning; round and round he went, as if the toilet had been flushed and he and his rejected pills were being washed away like the trash that he knew he was. He was breathing heavily now, painful groans falling from his lips. “Get the fuck out, Y/N.”

The sound of your name on his lips for the first time smacked you, your breath catching painfully behind the lump in your throat. You struggled to suppress the tears threatening to unleash themselves down your face. He said your name. He had never said it before. You had imagined that the first time he’d say your name would be a sign of trust and intimacy. This wasn’t that at all. Instead, it was a weapon, a foul word that stung you like a whip.

He didn’t want you here. Maybe your presence really was just making it worse for him. He’d focus more on not wanting you around and fighting your hep than he would actually trying to fight his withdrawal. You had to leave and hope that he would be able to come out of this on his own.

Without a word, you loosened the cap on the water bottle and set it on the floor next to him as a final offering before getting up off the cold tile to leave. You left the bathroom, while the sounds of his continued retching filled your ears. Each cough and gag from his battered throat deepened your guilt, reminding you how your irresponsibility had contributed to him getting into this mess. Yes, he stole from you. It still angered you. But at the same time, you were the one who had all your mental faculties and still left drugs within his reach when he came to you for help.

You placed two water bottles and the crackers on the nightstand for him. Then, you took the half-full trash bag out of his trash can and made sure it was near his bed, just in case he needed to throw up again later.

With one more glance at him through the bathroom doorway while he sat doubled over the toilet, you made your way to the door.

Please be safe, please be safe… you silently pleaded.

Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, you heard a thud.

“Dabi? Are you okay?” you called.

Only silence greeted you. A cold panic set in and you rushed into the bathroom to find Dabi unconscious on the floor, face down in a puddle of water. The water bottle you had left had tipped over, the cold liquid spreading across the bathroom tile and soaking into Dabi’s clothes. You pushed your panic aside as you immediately switched into emergency mode. You knelt by his side and rolled him over onto his back, cupping his face in your hand. His skin felt hot to the touch.

“Dabi??” You called. No response. You checked for a pulse and felt it fluttering beneath your fingers. “DABI??” you shouted as you lightly smacked his cheek. He didn’t respond. His color was lifelessly pale, but his chest rose and fell in slow breaths. He was breathing. You checked his pupils – dilated. He definitely still had your drugs in his system. How much, you weren’t sure. Once again, you were grateful that he had managed to throw up what he could.

His skin was burning. Was it already hotter than a moment ago? Was it a fever from the withdrawal? Or was it his quirk acting up, going haywire without him being able to consciously be in control of himself? The idea of his cremation randomly unleashing itself in the small bathroom made your throat dry up with dread.

You had to cool him down somehow. Dabi’s bathroom had a walk-in shower just a foot away, and you gave a silent thankful prayer to the universe. A bathtub would have made this entire fiasco exponentially more difficult.

First, you had to remove his clothes. They were trapping in his body heat at the moment, compounding his fever.

It wasn’t easy. Dabi was lean, but he certainly didn’t lack muscle, and what he lacked for in bulk, he made up for in height. It was awkward in the small space as you pulled his sweatpants off of him, exposing scarred legs with metal staples curving along his thighs. You left his boxers on. You couldn’t bring yourself to take them off of him while he was unconscious. His head lolled to the side while his eyes, now half-lidded, stared with an empty, unconscious gaze. His shirt was next, wet with sweat, water, and specks of bile. The fresh bandage that you had recently applied fell off as soon as the cotton fabric wasn’t there to hold it in place. The wound was healing, but it was still pink and raw. The slightest amount of pressure would reopen the sensitive tissue, undoing your hard work.

You needed your med kit.

Once he was undressed, you rolled him to his side. You didn’t want him to aspirate if he ended up vomiting again. Then, you ran the shower to let the water warm slightly. It needed to be lukewarm – cool enough to bring down his fever, but not so cold that it would shock his system and make him shiver. Shivering helped to increase body temperature, and that was the last thing he needed.

Once the water was running, you took one last look at the man laying unconscious on his side before making a mad dash out of his room and into yours to grab your medical bag by your bed. There was no time to double check the supplies in it; you only hoped you had what you needed. You grabbed a couple of clean towels from your own bathroom before running back into his room, thankfully unnoticed in the empty hall. It took less than a minute.

You bandaged his wound back up quickly, while he was on his side. It wasn’t the neatest work, but it would do for now. Already, his body temperature was noticeably higher than when you had left him. There was no time to check it with your thermometer - it was a race against the clock, now.

You rolled Dabi back onto his back to try and rouse him once again, picking him up slightly so he lay in your lap, while you called his name and cupped his cheek. His eyes fluttered open slightly, his head shifting at the sound of your voice, before his eyes closed again. You cursed under your breath and laid him back down the way you had him before while you checked the water temperature. It was warm enough, or so you hoped, since his own temperature kept rising. You turned off the water briefly to retrieve the unconscious man.

Finally, you were ready. You tried to grab Dabi from under his armpits, but his skin was almost too hot to touch for an extended period of time. Definitely quirk related. You grabbed a spare towel and tried again, this time protecting your hands and arms against his scalding skin. You wrapped your hands around his chest, your arms under his armpits, and began to drag him to the shower stall. You tried your best to be mindful of his scars and staples, hoping that dragging him across the floor wouldn’t tear anything. For a shower that was so close in proximity, it took a painstakingly long time to get him into it and properly positioned before you could step out and turn the shower back on.

Lukewarm water sputtered out of the showerhead, drenching his body from the chest down. The water steamed upon contact, reacting to the heat rolling off of him like asphalt on a hot summer’s day. Dabi stirred slightly, roused to consciousness by the sensation and the change in temperature. He looked around groggily until his blue eyes settled on you. You waited for him to say something, but no words came as his dazed eyes seemed to lose focus. The only sign that he was still somewhat conscious was the occasional slow blink while he watched you take a wet washcloth and squeeze it over his head to let the cool water soak his hair and dribble down his face and neck. The water trickled down his forehead to his brow, and you tenderly wiped it away with the washcloth to keep it from getting into his eyes. You followed the contours of his face with the cool cloth, along his jawline, across his cheeks.

Dabi closed his eyes for minutes at a time, only opening them briefly as you adjusted the water temperature slightly and again as your ran your fingers through his wet hair, moving the dripping strands from his forehead so you could see his face better. Color slowly began to creep back into his skin, the water no longer steamed. What you were doing was working, and you were grateful – so grateful – that you hadn’t left him yet. The rush of time slowed down. Dabi’s eyes closed again as you quietly hummed to yourself as you cared for him. It helped to calm your nerves and pass the time.

After what felt like ages, you finally checked his temperature, this time with the temporal thermometer you had in your bag. The number that beeped back at you satisfied you enough to turn the water off. You gave Dabi’s shoulder a small shake, and his eyes opened to look at you under heavy lids.

“Come on.” You whispered. “I need you to stand up.”

He licked his chapped lips as he braced himself into a standing position with your help and made the two feet distance to sit on his toilet, his wet boxers dribbling puddles of water onto the floor. You covered him in two towels, one for his head and one for his shoulders, before you stepped out of the bathroom for a moment to get him fresh clothes.

You realized quickly that he’d need to change out of his wet boxers – something you hadn’t considered earlier when you undressed him. You gulped briefly. Could he even do that on his own right now? He still was out of it and needed assistance just to stand.

There was no way around it. You’d have to help him.

You grabbed a pair of fresh boxers, black jersey shorts, and a white tee before returning to the bathroom. He was in the position you left him, the only difference being that he was now leaning against the wall while he sat on the toilet. His eyes were closed at first but they opened slightly when you nudged him gently. He still looked completely out of it.

Even so, you talked to him. “Dabi,” you whispered. “I have to change your boxers so I can put dry clothes on you. I’m going to help you stand up.”

He gave a slow blink but made no attempt to move or speak. As you wrapped your arms around his chest to help him up, he didn’t fight you, leaning his weight into you just enough to rise slightly from his sitting position. You weren’t sure how conscious he really was for this. Was he aware of what was going on, of what you were doing? Or was his body going through the motions, barely registering his environment? You hoped it was the latter.

“I won’t look.” You promised. You looped your fingers into the wet waistband and pulled it down, before letting him sit back down on the toilet. With your eyes respectfully averted, you pulled the wet material off the rest of the way down his legs and off his feet. You quickly dried his legs off before grabbing the clean boxers you had set up on top of his sink, the only dry spot left in the bathroom. Through the use of touch, you were able to put his feet into them and pull them up just above his bent knees. His shorts followed until both items were pulled up as high as they would go in his sitting position.

“One more time.” You said. With him braced against you, you grabbed both waistbands and pulled his clothes on. A moment later, he was sitting back down, properly covered. You proceeded with your administrations now that the hard part was done. You dried his hair with the towel still on his head, and then dried his torso and arms using the towel on his shoulders. By the time you were helping him with his tee shirt, he was starting to show some cognizance, pushing his arms out through the holes himself once you got them into position.

Quickly you flushed the toilet he was sitting on, washing away the contents from earlier, and gathered the soiled clothes and towels from the floor before taking them to the laundry hamper in his room. It was still dark outside, and you wondered what time it was. 3:30am? 4? You had no way of knowing; you had left your phone in your room. With the situation no longer critical, your adrenaline finally started to drop. Exhaustion pulled at you, a heavy blanket threatening to smother you until you surrendered. You were so tired, that even Dabi’s bed looked inviting at this point.

You forced yourself to keep going.

You grabbed one of the water bottles from his nightstand, hoping that you could finally get him to drink something now that the vomiting was over and he was starting to gain awareness again.

When you came back to the bathroom, Dabi looked up at you as you entered, his eyes truly seeing you for the first time.

“You’re still here.” He slurred, his voice raspy.

“You noticed, huh?” you gave a small smirk, an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

He was quiet for a moment and looked down, confusion on his face. “I told you to leave.”

“Yeah, well I was going to, but then you passed out on the bathroom floor.” You replied. “I couldn’t just leave you there.”

He didn’t respond. The fight in him was gone for the moment. He was placid now, almost childlike. You opened the water bottle and handed it to him, but he turned his head away.

“Please, Dabi…” you begged.

He looked back at the item in your hand and stared at it for a moment before finally taking it and taking a small sip. He grimaced painfully.

Of course; after all that vomiting he did earlier, his throat probably hurt like hell.

You pointed at his neck. “May I?” You hoped he understood.

He seemed to. He lowered the water bottle from his lips to allow you access to his throat, and gently you placed your hand over it, feeling the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed against your cool touch. Your quirk seeped into him like honey into a cake, coating his throat and washing the burning pain away.

He swallowed again, this time without flinching. His eyes stared at you, still hazy, but with the hint of something lively in them –a flicker of kindling. He took your hand from his neck and moved it down to his abdomen.

“Here.” He spoke.

You understood, but you hesitated. Would you be able to keep your quirk focused on just the nerves of his muscles? Or would it go deeper than that, impacting the nerves in his gut? That could have its own effects – he won’t feel the burning in his gut, but he also won’t feel hunger for a while, and may not feel that urge to vomit again even if his body needed to later.

“Just a little bit.” You replied.

You felt your quirk trickle into him, like water through cracks in concrete. Once your quirk felt the resistance of the deeper layers of muscle and tissue, you pulled your hand away. If you pushed any further, it’d be too much. He might feel some pain still, but it should be mitigated at least.

“Drink more now. Please.” You ordered.

He obliged, drinking the water in large, thirsty gulps for the first time that evening. Once he was done, he wiped his mouth and handed the empty water bottle to you. You set it on his sink next to the faucet, in case it needed to be refilled later on.

“Come on,” you said. You kneeled down and put his arm around your shoulder, helping him stand. “Let’s get you into bed.”

He didn’t respond; instead, he let you lead him out of the bathroom to the edge of his bed where he fell into it. You debated on whether or not you could leave him there and finally retreat to your room for much-needed rest, but you decided against it. The meds that were flowing in his system were going to start wearing off soon. He will be hungering for more, and you won’t be able to give it to him this time. If you left him alone here, he’d either somehow end up back in your room hunting for that hidden bottle, or he’d go out on the street to try to score whatever he could, no matter the consequences.

There was no choice. You had to stay. And when his pain became too much, you’d help out as best you could. Maybe you could mitigate the symptoms enough to last him until tomorrow evening. By then, you could start him back up on your pills.

You hoped you could handle it. You’d already used your quirk three times tonight - twice just now, and once earlier when you treated his burn in your room. Already, the environment seemed a little harsher to you. Light was brighter, noises louder… It wasn’t too terrible just yet, but all of your senses were heightened more than they were before. The damaged nerves on your back, always hidden by your shirt, itched irritably. It was still bearable – for now.

A sense of trepidation filled you. You’d gone so long without over-exerting your quirk… it had taken only one time to experience it, and you vowed to never let it happen again. Then again, you never expected to be single-handedly dealing with drug addiction and withdrawal for a man who takes enough opioids to take down an elephant.

You peaked at him in his bed where he lay curled up on his side. His eyes were closed for the moment, but you weren’t sure if he was asleep or not. Without disturbing him, you managed to steal a spare pillow from his bed. Then, with a heavy, resigned sigh, you laid down in front of his door, his pillow your only comfort. If he tried to leave, he’d have to go through you. The window was unguarded, but you weren’t too worried – you were three stories up. The building was an old hotel, so all fire escapes were located at the end of the hall, and he was in no condition to try to climb down the rusty drainpipes.

Despite the hardness of the floor and the coldness of the air, sleep claimed you within seconds, the scent of Dabi enveloping you.

As you slept, Dabi stirred restlessly in his bedsheets, his mind drifting between a vague wakefulness and dreams.

There was humming. Someone was singing. It soothed him.

He blinked.

You were talking to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. Something cool and wet passed across his forehead. Was this real?

He blinked.

Your face peered up at him, filled with a loving concern as your hand cupped his cheek, your thumb stroking across his stitches softly. Was THIS real?

He blinked.

He stared at himself, his scars gone, his hair a deep red. His blue eyes echoed his other self like an infinite row of mirrors.

He blinked.

He tried to speak, but pills kept falling from his mouth, choking his words. He couldn’t breathe. His other self stood before him, hands cupped and outstretched as the pills filled them and overflowed, scattering over the floor like a child’s marbles.

He blinked.

All he could see was a blue sky, but there were sounds. The sound of children’s laughter, the sound of a ball being kicked. The was a faint smell of dirt in the air. He was happy.

He blinked.

A woman sat near a window, bathed in sunlight with a white bundle cradled in her arms. Something about her was oddly familiar, yet he couldn’t place her. She sang. “My little Shouto. My sweet, little Shouto…” A baby cooed. Her face turned to him, but her features were hazy, hard to see through the dust that danced in the sunbeams. She reached out a long, slender hand. “Come here, Touya. Meet your little brother.”

He blinked.

He saw the woman again, standing at the end of a lake dock in a white dress, her hair billowing like a white flag of surrender. The lake was smooth as glass, a white mist ghosting over its glossy waters. He knew her.

Mother.

He tried to call to her, but his words were silent, falling from voiceless lips like birds with broken wings. She put one foot out over the water and fell silently, disappearing beneath the murky depths without a splash. A cold dread filled him. Frantically, he ran towards the water, but before he could dive in, the water on the lake erupted into orange, writhing flames. The wood beneath his feet crackled and charred, flames licking at his legs, his arms, his face. The dock broke and suddenly he was drowning, boiling water filling his lungs. Unseen hands grasped at his limbs, pulling him down, down, into the darkness, his flesh turning to ash beneath their touch.

Dabi woke with a shout, his eyes wide and filled with a wild fear. He felt restrained, his legs unable to move.

“Hold him down.” Said a familiar, gruff voice. The smell of cigarette smoke choked him. “I told you this would hurt, kid.”

Suddenly, your face came into view, hovering over him with your hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “Dabi. Dabi!” you called. You stared down at him with worry, dark circles under your bloodshot, tired eyes.

You were here.

The waking nightmare lifted and suddenly he was gasping for air like a deep-sea diver, heavy breaths filling his lungs as he broke through the surface into consciousness. “Y/N?” he said, his voice sounding strangely strangled to his ears. His eyes looked around frantically, taking in his room. A dark twilight was starting to emerge from the clouded, early morning sky outside, dark blue-grey contrasting with the yellow light seeping from the edges of his closed his bathroom door. The colors framed your face as you spoke to him

“Hey, it’s okay.” You said soothingly. “It was just a dream.”

His bedsheets were tangled around his bare legs like a snake. Dabi kicked them off and sat up in his bed with a wince. “I need some water.” An open water bottle appeared in front of him, which he gratefully took and drank.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

Dabi handed the bottle back to you without looking. “I’m fine.” He said gruffly; more so than he intended. But he wasn’t fine. Everything hurt. His head was pounding. His damaged nerves were starting to scream while his body felt as if it had been forced into a box that was too small, aching in places he never thought it could ache. Underneath it all, humming low like a wild animal growling a warning, sat an uneasiness - a dark, nervous energy - threatening to envelop him and wrap him up tightly in despair. Flashes of dreams – or were they memories? – threatened to drag him back down into the darkest parts of himself.

Dabi grappled for control, but he was losing.

You placed a concerned hand over his and he withdrew from your touch, the affection foreign to him. The heavy weight of shame sat deep in his gut as he took in your weary face. Somewhere, beneath the noisy din of his mind, a thought occurred to him: this was taking its toll on you too.

“Why are you still here?” he asked as he laid back onto his damp pillow, his arm over his eyes.

“Because you need me.” You replied.

He clenched his jaw. “No, I don’t.” The words were feeble and weak in his mouth, not an ounce of truth in them. You both knew it.

“I’m too tired to argue with you.” You stated as you rubbed at the bridge of your nose.

“Then go to bed.” He replied.

You wanted to growl in frustration, your own exhaustion making your fuse especially short. If he could just not fight you every step of the way, that’d be great.

“The last time I almost left, you fainted on the bathroom floor in a puddle of water while your body tried to combust itself. So no, I’m not leaving.”

Your tone allowed no more room for argument, your words forcing Dabi to sulk silently. He sat up from his reclined position, his long, scarred legs swinging over the side of the bed to plant firmly on the ground. His leg began to bounce and jitter, an attempt to relieve the irritated, unfocused energy that swirled inside of him like a cyclone. He felt like hell. He was a desert, his body and mind parched as the drugs in his system began to dry up. Even the slightest bit of movement set his nerves ablaze, pain coursing over his skin like a wildfire. He was tired… so fucking tired.

You reached across him, your proximity allowing him to smell the shampoo in your hair as your arm and shoulder pressed against him. For the briefest of moments, he felt something akin to peace break through his stormy mind like sunlight. It was short-lived though. Your closeness left as quickly as it had come, taking the sunshine with it.

“Hey…” you whispered next to him, a pack of crackers in your hand. You opened the packaging and handed him one. “Try to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” He replied.

“I don’t care. You need to eat.” You replied.

He didn’t have the strength to fight you. Begrudgingly, he took the cracker and nibbled on it. There was no pleasure in it, his jaw going through the motions like a machine as he chewed and swallowed.

You continued to talk to him, your voice soft, as you handed him another cracker. “You’re going into withdrawal again.” You stated.

“I know.”

“It might actually feel worse this time.”

“It does.”

Your face blurred as another wave of fiery pain washed over him, making him double over, the cracker crumbling like ashes in his fist. He gasped and panted against it, his body shaking from the stress.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Let me help you.” You said. “Let me use my quirk.”

For the briefest of moments, Dabi’s pained expression lifted, and you could see the desperation in his eyes. “It won’t be enough.” He replied.

“Let me try.” You begged.

He stared at you. It was either this, or drugs.

He nodded.

You took his hand in yours and began to trace your fingers along his staples, your quirk seeping in. He inhaled a sharp breath. The pain dissipated where your touch landed. It soaked into his aching bones like heavy rainfall on a burning forest. There was a moment of clarity, the sensation so shocking that it distracted him from his suffering. Slowly you let your hands follow up the length of his arm, following his scars and leaving a humming numbness in its wake. Then, you took his other hand to continue the same treatment on the other side.

Dabi stared at his painless hand in vague fascination. It didn’t seem like it belonged to him. His vision blurred, memory replacing reality.

His hands were smaller now, the stitches gone. The skin was bubbled and blistered, and he could hear his own quiet sobs as hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Hey, sweetie.” A soft voice called. Pale, white, delicate hands wrapped around his own damaged ones.

He looked up to see his mother smiling at him. It was a sad smile, full of love, but never quite reaching her tired eyes.

“It hurts.” He sobbed.

“I know.” She soothed. “It’s okay.” A cool frost began to ghost over his damaged skin, soothing the burning, throbbing pain.

“Why does my quirk hurt me, mommy?” he heard himself ask.

“It’s my fault, honey.” She whispered, tears stinging her grey eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” Dabi whispered.

Your touch on his collarbone pulled him back to reality on a thin, white thread.

“What was that?” you asked, your fingers pausing in their work.

“What?” he replied, disoriented.

“You said ‘it’s not your fault.’” You replied with a confused look. “What’s not my fault?”

“Nothing.” He responded as he turned his head away from your prying gaze.

You didn’t pursue it. Dabi was grateful. Instead, he felt your cool touch return to his collarbone to trace along the muscles of his neck and shoulders. While your touch helped initially, the cloud of suffering followed close behind from the places you had yet to reach, a parade of aches and throbs blaring their horns against his brain. His body focused on the noise and continued to shiver and shake while he struggled to keep himself focused.

His face was next, so you cupped his cheek in your hand and gently returned his averted gaze to you. His blue eyes locked with yours, and you stared into them for a moment, captivated by their beauty, aching with their suffering. He didn’t deserve this. Any of this. You could only hope that what you were doing was enough, that it could make a difference.

Your fingers rushed and fumbled clumsily across the lower half of his face and beneath his eyes. You couldn’t quite explain why. Perhaps it felt too personal, even after all you two had been through so far. You barely touched his lower lip, the sensation of its roughness sending electric tingles up your fingertips. You desperately wanted to slow down, take your time, and cherish. But you couldn’t. Such exploration was far too intimate to happen here, now, under such heavy circumstances.

You paused for a moment in your administrations as sweat started to break across your brow. The light from the bathroom felt unusually bright to your eyes and you could feel a headache start to form. A shiver began to take you as your body became increasingly sensitive to the cool temperature of the room, each soft gust of air from the open window feeling like an icy blast. Even your hearing was more sensitive – you could hear Dabi’s heavy breaths as his body struggled; you could hear the early morning sounds of songbirds beginning to sing as the sky gradually lightened outside. The rumble of a car passing by on the street sounded like a freight train. All of your nerves were beginning to tingle, and you became increasingly aware of the texture of the clothing on your skin, the feel of Dabi’s staples beneath your hands. Most of all, the scarred nerves on your back were beginning their own little dance, sending small shoots of tingling pain up your spine.

It was already happening. The feedback from your quirk was starting to cross the threshold into painful overstimulation. It was happening far sooner than you had hoped. But then again, you’d already used your quirk three times within the past eight hours, and your body was already at its limits in other ways. Even quirks could be impacted by physical fatigue, dehydration, hunger… it was like trying to run a marathon on zero sleep and an empty stomach.

Dread settled into your empty gut, making a home there out of wild, thorny weeds. They tangled themselves in your limbs, slowing your movements as your mind began to race. Would you really be able to help him?

Your worried thoughts were interrupted by the sound of multiple ‘dings’ coming from Dabi’s phone that sat neglected on his nightstand, as a series of text messages came through. Each ding vibrated your inner ear at the loudness. A few minutes later, you heard the sound of bedroom doors opening and closing in the hallway. Your hands froze over Dabi’s skin as you waited and listened. Muffled voices vibrated on the other side of the thin walls, your sensitive ears picking up every word.

“Why the hell do Kurogiri and Shigaraki have us getting up so goddamn early?” Twice complained.

Spinner’s voice answered. “He said he’ll explain it to us downstairs. Something about our next mission, I guess. Something to do with the Yakuza.”

A loud yawn came from Toga. “Couldn’t it have waited?? I still need my beauty sleeeeeep….” She whined.

Magne’s voice soon followed. “You’re already beautiful, sweetie.”

“You’re the best, Magne…”

Their voices faded as they entered the old elevator at the end of the hall, it’s off-key ding marking the closing of the doors.

A heavy silence followed. You and Dabi were alone now, the entire floor empty. A confusing combination of relief and anxiety washed over you. The privacy was good, but then again, there was no one around to help if you really needed it.

You returned your gaze to Dabi who sat in silence while his withdrawal continued to wash over him. If your quirk had helped so far, you couldn’t really tell. His breaths were still labored and his vision unfocused as his body shook slightly. He sat there as if waiting. Waiting for you? Or was he still falling in his mind, waiting to crash hard across the sharp jagged rocks of his withdrawal before you could catch him?

He had more scars you needed to tend to… on his legs, his back, his left side just below his ribs, and over his hips, the dark tissue disappearing beneath his shorts. This wasn’t even counting the rest of the pain he felt everywhere else in his body simply from not having any drugs in his system. You were only able to do damage control on the parts that hurt the most. What if it wasn’t enough? It wasn’t a possibility you had considered before.

You swallowed, your mouth and throat dry. You had to try.

“Let’s take off your shirt.” You said. “It’ll make it easier for me to reach your other scars.”

He didn’t respond to you, his gaze unfocused.

Scars… scars….

The word echoed in his mind, and he followed it as it led him down an invisible road to another memory.

“Eww, look at his scars!” a kid said to his friend, his finger pointing.

The friend wrinkled in disgust. “Gross!”

“Dabi?” a voice called. He turned and saw his sister. His brow furrowed. Something wasn’t right. The name didn’t match the movement of her lips…

“Dabi??” your voice cut through, and the memory disappeared.

Dabi looked up at you, confused. “Hm?”

“Your shirt. We have to take it off.”

He silently lifted his shirt over his head, while you watched him with worry. It wasn’t hard for you to figure out what was happening. He was having long moments of non-responsiveness, getting repeatedly lost in his thoughts. You didn’t know much about him, but you could hazard a guess that this guy probably did not have a happy backstory. Villains never did. No doubt the lack of drugs in his system was bringing up that backstory for him right now. The concern, however, was that that was something that was completely outside of your scope. Physical pain was one thing. Mental pain was an entirely different beast. All you could hope for was that your physical treatments could help him enough that he could handle his mental issues by himself.

You took a moment to assess his body and how it was responding to your quirk. His leg no longer bounced, and the shivering was reduced. He showed no hesitation or pain when he removed his shirt. It was definitely doing something.

It gave you hope.

You kept going, your hands washing over wherever the scars presented themselves. Your relief continued to pour into him, but it was impaired now, impacted by your body’s need to limit itself. It was like holding your hand in increasingly hot water – at some point your body was going to recoil to protect you before you burned yourself. You were pushing yourself dangerously far, but you didn’t have a choice. If you stopped now, all of this would be for nothing.

As you struggled to treat every damaged part of him, your heightened senses became worse and worse. And the scar on your back… the one that you always kept covered, the one you never told anyone about because of what it represented… that hurt the most. It burned nearly as fresh as it had when you first got it, a hot searing pain, and panic started to seep into your mind.

You forced yourself to focus on the present, to keep yourself in control. Your hands were on his legs now. You counted the staples as your fingers passed over them.

One, two, three, four, five…

This was the reason you needed your meds. Everything else you could handle on your own. But the scar… the scar always hurt if you pushed too far, and the memories associated with it were never far behind. And this was the farthest you had pushed in a long time

Six, seven, eight, nine…

But you couldn’t take your pills. And you couldn’t cry. Dabi would see it, and there was no telling how he would respond. You silently clenched your jaw and hoped that he didn’t notice the sweat across your skin or the way your hands were shaking now.

Finally, your hands reached his feet, and you couldn’t deny your fingers rushed across the staples that marked the end of your journey. Your touches were done, your quirk spent. Your body was tensed now, each muscle tightened in an attempt to keep yourself together.

You looked back up at him and watched him intently, hopefully, forcing your eyes to focus on him and only him, as you tried to tune out the rest of the environment that was demanding your attention. His body no longer shook. But his eyes were still glazed over and his hands were still wrapped around his core. Was he still in pain? Or was he holding himself for comfort?

Although the battleground of Dabi’s body was more balanced now with your help, the war within himself was far from over. His muscles still ached where your hands had yet to reach, and his head still hurt almost to the point of sickness. But most importantly, while your touch soothed the physical, the mental was left unbarred. The demons of the flesh were replaced by demons of the past, as memory after suppressed memory crashed back into Dabi’s defenseless mind.

“Don’t stop.” He begged in a strained whisper. “I need more.”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t have any more. You gave everything you could and now you were hanging on by a thread.

You no longer had the will or strength to hold in your emotions. Tears slipped down your cheeks, wet roads marking your failure, your failure to subdue his suffering as you had promised.

“I can’t.” you sobbed.

He stared at you foggily, confused by the tears on your cheeks. Were you crying?

“Are you crying??” demanded a deep, angry voice.

Dabi squeezed his eyes shut against the sound, as memory mingled with reality. It sounded real.

Dabi knew he was hallucinating from the withdrawal. Years of dependency had the wires in his brain crisscrossed, and now they were misfiring as it tried to process the trauma he had neglected. Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his father was here. He sensed his towering, overbearing presence, could feel the heat of the fire rolling off of his broad shoulders. He wasn’t ‘Dabi’ in that moment. He was ‘Touya,’ small and weak. He couldn’t suppress the fear that followed, crawling up his skin like a thousand ants. He wanted to run from it, but he couldn’t.

This was hell. He was in hell. He couldn’t make the voices stop, couldn’t make the memories disappear. He was cornered, with no way out.

Dabi craved surrender, to satisfy the addiction and let it wash over him. He wanted it drown his shame and agony, leaving nothing but that comforting, vengeful rage he was so used to. It was the only thing that worked, the only thing he believed in. If he could just get the right drugs, enough drugs, then all of this would go away. It was his only option. Earlier was just a mistake, his broken mind reasoned. He wouldn’t have thrown up those pills if he ate something, after all. This time… this time, he’d be okay. He ate those crackers, didn’t he?

Desperation fueled him, fear and exhaustion consumed him as he locked his eyes on you with intense purpose. “I need those pills. NOW.”

You shook your head vigorously as your words fell from your trembling lips. “I don’t have them.” More tears slipped down your cheeks.

“ARE YOU CRYING??”

A child sobbed.

“Get up. I SAID GET UP.”

Dabi’s blood went cold. He knew this memory. No, no, no…

Dabi leapt out of his bed, nearly knocking you over in the process.

His frantic eyes spotted your medical bag against the wall and before you could even get off the bed, he was dumping its contents all over the floor. Scissors, gauze, over-the-counter pain medicine, and a variety of other items rolled across the hard wood with a clatter. You winced. He threw the bag aside when he couldn’t find what he wanted.

“Where did you put it??” Dabi demanded. His world spun, but he managed to find the wall with his hand and used it to brace himself up.

“I can’t tell you that.” You replied as you stood up.

“So now you’re keeping them from me?” he seethed.

Now that he knew the drugs weren’t in the room, you knew he would try to leave. You made yourself stand up, stifling a cry with a bite of your tongue as your shirt rubbed against your back, to position yourself between him and the door. Fear coursed through you. Even though he was weakened from all that he’d gone through, you knew he could easily overpower you.

You put your hands out towards him cautiously. “We either deal with this now and be done with it, or we deal with it all over again later when the pills run out. You’ve already been through so much. Please, Dabi, don’t give up. You can fight this.”

“You’re pathetic. Weak, like your mother.”

He covered his ears, a futile attempt at blocking the voices from within.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t fight this. The pain was too much, the exhaustion too heavy, the emotions too raw. He needed the drugs. His survival depended on it. Without them, he would go insane. Hadn’t he suffered enough? He wanted to scream, to break things, to ignite his cremation and send everything to ash, including himself. But he didn’t. Perhaps it was the cowardice of dying, or the dissatisfaction of unfinished business, or even the simple fact that you were here with him. Instead, he tried to step around you, but you matched him move for move, blocking his exit. He was trapped.

“Get the fuck outta my way.” Dabi growled.

“No.” you said firmly, even as your body shook in fear and pain. Your eyes were trained on his hands. What if he decided to use his quirk? He wouldn’t… would he?

His face contorted in rage. Betrayal, his mind seethed. You cared more about protecting your precious stash than you did about him. How could you be so fucking selfish?

“You just want to keep the pills for yourself.” He spat.

His accusation shocked you. “W-what?”

“Admit it. You’re a fucking addict just like me. THAT’S WHY YOU WON’T LET ME HAVE ANY!”

“I’m not!” you protested. “Dabi, I’m trying to help you!”

“I’m sorry!” Touya begged. “Let me try again. I just wanna be like you! I wanna be a hero, too!”

“You’ll NEVER be like me! You’re a DISGRACE! A failed experiment!”

“No, no, NO!” Dabi shouted as he squeezed his eyes shut, his fists pounding his head. He opened his eyes, a wildness in them that terrified you. He grabbed at you then, his long fingers wrapping around your biceps with shocking force as he prepared to physically move you from his path. You cried out in pain, his touch like knives against your sensitive skin.

“Dabi, stop it, you’re hurting me!” you cried.

Your frantic words cut through his crazed mind. He stared at you, bewildered, taking in the terror in your eyes, the tears on your face. He saw his hands gripping you, your arms bent up in front of you defensively in fear.

In fear of him.

He let you go, stumbling back a step. He stared at his open palms in horror, his chest heaving. He’d grabbed you. Hurt you. It was his worst fear come to life. He really was like him.

His hands morphed before his eyes, the scars and staples vanishing, and suddenly they were bigger, rougher. They were his father’s hands. And as he looked up, he no longer saw you. Now, he saw his mother, her eyes holding the same fear yours did a moment ago, a fear he’d seen countless times as she tried to defend her children. Those eyes were now trained on him, and it felt as if his soul was being ripped to shreds.

“I-I’m sorry.” He stuttered. He needed her forgiveness. Did he even deserve such a thing? He fell to his knees with a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeated.

You stared in shock as you watched him fall apart before you, rambling apologies and broken words falling from his lips. You whispered that it was alright, but he couldn’t hear you, too far lost in whatever nightmare he was stuck in. You knelt next to him and placed a gentle hand on his back, rubbing small circles in the space between his shoulders.

He could feel it… his mother’s touch, cool on his back and warm on his soul. He was falling and no longer knew where he was. He only knew that this touch between his shoulder blades was an anchor to a place he couldn’t reach, a place he longed for but never believed existed for him. It was an exoneration, made of mercy and love, sewing together his broken pieces with a golden thread. He wasn’t worthy of it. He cried.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you bore witness to his agony, this unknown monster that haunted him as he sobbed, completely dismantled and unaware of your presence. There was nothing you could do, no way you could help him through this. All you could do was be here for him. You wouldn’t let him go through this alone

You wrapped your arms around his head as you buried your face into his black hair, your own tears running down into his dark strands. His body responded, lean, strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed himself against your stomach and suddenly the two of you were entwined, with him halfway in your lap, gripping you like a child would his mother as his body shook and his tears ran hot into your clothes.

With every inch of you on the brink, your body screamed at his iron-like grip around your waist. Even so, you twined your fingers into his thick hair, bracing the palms of your hands against his sweating skull. With one last surge, you drew what you could of your quirk, scraping the dredges of your ability, and pushed, deep into his brain where the pain still sat like a bullet in a wound that couldn’t heal. A choked sob escaped your lips as your body was pushed passed its threshold, your world exploding in color, sound, and pain. Dabi’s own sobs fell silent and his body went limp in your lap, his arms around your waist going slack. He was unconscious.

A deafening silence fell across the room, slowly replaced by the sounds of daily life from outside – the bustle of traffic, someone’s radio blaring, people laughing. It felt out of place in contrast to all that had transpired and clashed harshly with your ears. The sun was completely up now, the grey haze of morning burned away. It seeped past the cracks in the curtains, a beam of light streaking across the floor to kiss the face of the man now passed out in your lap. The brightness of the sunlight made you squint against it, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You watched the tension in his face disappear, furrowed brows and wrinkled forehead smoothing over, his lips parting in a relaxed breath. It was the first time you’d ever seen him look so peaceful.

You watched as your tears fell on his pale cheek to slip down and catch onto a metal ring. Suddenly, you were doubled over him, sobbing violently into his shoulder. The rollercoaster of all that had happened crashed over you in unrelenting waves as your body screamed at the entire loudness of the world around you. As you cried, the broken man beneath you slept. There was no waking him now; his own exhaustion had claimed him once you hit his withdrawal at its source.

After what felt like ages, your sobbing subsided, and your tears dried up. Your body and soul were spent. They screamed for relief, for silence, for sleep. Slowly, you removed Dabi from your lap before finally staring at him, asleep on the floor. There was no way you could get him back into his bed, but you’d do what you could to make him comfortable. Even the slightest bit movement was agony, but you forced yourself forward with painstaking slowness. You managed to get the pillow you had borrowed under his head and draped his blanket over him before you grabbed a water bottle for yourself and downed its contents. You followed it up with a banana, although your stomach roiled slightly, the pain in your lower back bringing forth a wave of nausea that you fought with clenched teeth and deep breaths through the nose.

Every movement was stiff and calculated to try to mitigate your own suffering as you gathered the items Dabi had emptied across the floor earlier. When you finally left his room, it felt like entering another dimension, the hallway oddly quiet and peaceful.

On tired, aching feet you crossed the hallway to your room and entered. As soon as the door closed behind you, you dropped your bag and headed straight for the bathroom. As you passed your closet, you eyed the duffle bag stashed up high in your closet, your mind longingly thinking of its hidden contents. You did your best to ignore it. The idea of having to go through it all again because you couldn’t exercise self-control was enough to keep you from giving into temptation.

Instead, you pulled your over the counter pain relief pills from your medicine cabinet and took four of them; they might not work as well as what you were used to, but it was better than nothing. Your body screamed for sleep, but you knew that sleep would elude you as long as your senses were going haywire and your back burned.

So, you closed your bathroom door to plunge yourself into darkness and turned on your bathtub, adjusting the temperature to an equilibrium that matched with your own body. You undressed yourself, slowly, grateful to no longer feel the itchiness of the cotton on your skin while the soles of your bare feet complained about the cold hardness of your bathroom floor. Once the tub was full and the faucet turned off, you entered the water slowly and submerged yourself until only your mouth and nose were above water.

Immediately, a familiar, comfortable silence fell over you as the water entered your ears and muted your hearing, your closed eyes blocked out any remaining light that the bathroom door couldn’t eliminate, and the water caressed your skin in a gentle, numbing embrace.

This was what you needed – sensory deprivation. Or, at least the best you could do with your current situation. A heated pool was more ideal of course, but clearly not an option right now. You could feel the edges of the tub press on your skin where you couldn’t quite fit or where the water wasn’t quite deep enough to fully support you with its buoyancy. But still, it was far better than anything else you had at your disposal.

If it weren’t for the fear of water getting into your nose and lungs, you would have fallen asleep right there in an instant. Instead, you lingered, your mind filled with memories and thoughts of the gauntlet you had somehow managed to survive. You wondered if Dabi would remember all of it when he finally woke up, or if some of it would get lost or buried.

Will he be okay after you used your quirk on his mind? You hadn’t thought about it when you did it – your instinct took over, fueled by desperation and emotional turmoil at seeing him fall apart in front of you against his will. You’d never used your quirk like that before, and it scared you.

There was nothing you could do but wait. Wait and see what happened.

You left the bathtub once the water started to get cold and dressed yourself in your softest article of clothing before falling into bed. Your blackout curtains did their best to block out the daytime, but nothing could be done for the noise, the old windows made of thin glass. But fatigue pulled heavy, its weight stronger than your quirk’s feedback. Time lost its meaning as sleep finally found you, pulling you into its gentle arms while visions of Dabi filled your dreams. __________________________________________________________________

Part 7

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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Lost Boys: A Thousand Words

Star x Reader

Word Count: 1,340

Summary: Reader spots Star through a camera lens and can’t look away.

One of the most important things to consider in photography was lighting. Without good lighting, the photo might not turn out, no matter how interesting the composition was.

That could become even more complicated if you decided to shoot at night, but in a bright place, like the boardwalk, it wasn’t an issue. Everything was still lit up to max capacity. The stores all had their lights on, the rides blinked and flashed their colored bulbs, not to mention the lamp posts that were incrementally placed throughout the amusement park.

You were working on a photography class portfolio and decided to center your theme on emotions. It was easy to pick the boardwalk as one of the settings.

Tons of people, tons of emotion ripe for capturing. And going at night would open up possibilities for different lighting.

Different from the stuff you normally shot during day anyhow.

The flash went off with a noticeable click, some people giving you a wide berth. A group of girls had just come off of the tilt-a-whirl with messy hair and exuberant faces. It could make a good addition to your portfolio.

You’d been at it for about ninety minutes and had already used up a roll of film. The one currently in the camera might have to be swapped out soon; you had already taken quite a few.

Camera slung around your neck, you wandered down towards the t shirt shops.

It was best not to stay in one place the whole time. You had been doing photography long enough to know that people got antsy, suspicious even, when someone kept continuously taking pictures in one spot. Like they were worried about being under surveillance or something.

Photography was a comfort to you. As a kid, you had trouble connecting with other people. You were a ‘weirdo’ so to speak. But when you tried photography, it clicked with you and you’d been doing it ever since.

Peering through the lens, you saw a toddler throwing a tantrum with a popsicle dripping down their chubby fingers. Maybe not the most flattering shot but not all emotions were positive ones.

Your finger hovered over the shutter button but before you could take the picture, someone else came into the shot, blocking your view.

At first, you were mildly annoyed. Until you got a good look at the newcomer.

She was…mesmerizing.

If it weren’t so sappy, you’d say ethereal. Even angelic. But that was ridiculous—you’d only just seen her. Didn’t know her at all outside of the lens of the camera. You frequented the boardwalk enough but had never seen her around.

She was a great subject though. Despite it being nighttime her skin positively glowed. Her riotous curls were wild and thick. Her cheeks looked soft, her chin delicate.

You took a photo on instinct, the flash going off.

The flash was its usual brilliance but it wasn’t particularly loud. It should have been drowned out, especially since it was so crowded at the boardwalk at that time of the night. Still, she turned and looked you directly.

You stopped breathing, your lungs frozen. And then she started walking towards you.

Suddenly, you couldn’t stop breathing, your chest hitching in panic as your blood pressure rose. Was she going to yell to you? Talk to you? God. You didn’t think you were prepared for that.

“Hi,” she smiled stopping right in front of you. Her bracelets chimed as she tucked a curl behind her ear.

You waved back awkwardly. “Hi.” The camera suddenly felt heavy around your neck.

“So,” she gestured at the camera. “You’re into photography?”

Not wanting to seem even more stupid, you cleared your throat in a herculean effort to say something. Anything.

“Y—yeah. I am. I’m sorry, were you bothered by me taking pictures? Cause I throw that out—”

“No, no. It’s okay. You’ll have to let me know if it turns out.”

You were quick to nod and it didn’t register that she said ‘if’ not ‘when.’ You were still dazed by the fact she was talking to you at all.

“It’s for a portfolio, actually. I’m in a class and this is part of a final project.”

That seemed to interest her judging by her lips curving up. “A portfolio. That’s cool, I like that.”

As she talked, she began walking. The crowds were thick so it was harder to walk side-by-side and she reached back for your hand to pull you along. You trailed after her like a moth to a flame; a pretty accurate description, you thought.

Her fingers were surprisingly cool to the touch and the difference in temperature only made you further tuned into the touch.

She asked more about the photos and you were only too happy to talk now that the ice had been broken. You chatted about your theme, how you liked the soft rings of light, even about the group of boys that had hassled you earlier.

“Wait, what did these boys look like?” There was a worried furrow on her brow.

“Like the normal beach crowd, I guess. A few of them had bleached stripes in their hair, some were shaved down to the scalp. But they didn’t do anything serious, only gave me a hard time before stomping off.”

She hummed, sounding relieved. “Good. That’s good. I’m Star by the way.”

“Star,” you repeated. A pretty name for a pretty girl. And very fitting. “Y/N. Sorry I didn’t give my name earlier.”

The two of you passed the games and continued on to the ferris wheel. There were several benches in the area and she promptly seated you at one, sitting down besides you.

Close enough that her hair blew in your face with the wayward breeze but not so close that it could be construed as…well, something else.

“I think this would be a great place for taking pictures. The ferris wheel isn’t exciting but it is intimate.”

You looked at a group that was coming off the ride and could see what Star meant. They all had a soft, warm look about them. You snapped one and then paused, deliberating. Maybe…

Mind made up, you lifted the strap around your head and passed the camera to her. “Here. Wanna try?”

“Oh. Are you sure? I’m not familiar with these,” she confessed, holding the object carefully, almost as if she were afraid she’d break it.

You easily waved off her concern. “It’ll be fine. Just look through the lens here and press the button on the top when you’re ready to take it.”

Hesitantly, she followed your instructions and raised it eye-level. The flash went off and the whole thing was over in a matter of seconds.

“See? Easy.”

She returned the camera to you with a bright smile, her teeth white. “I can see why you like it. It’s different, looking at people through a filter.”

Heat throbbed in your cheeks. Pretty and perceptive then. Trying to take the attention off of yourself, you told her she could take more, if she wanted.

“Actually,” she handed it over to you again, “I have to meet some people. So I’d better go.”

“Right,” you nodded. She was still cold and it sent tingles up your arms when you accepted the camera. The sensation made up for the disappointment at her leaving. “See you around.”

Her eyes perused you over, not obnoxiously but enough for you to be able to tell. Peering directly at you with a warm expression in her brown eyes, like she had when you first spotted her, she waved her fingers gently and was left without anther word.

You watched her retreating figure for as long as you could but very quickly she disappeared into a mass of faceless people. She had only just left but her feminine scent still lingered in the air. You met briefly, and still knew next to nothing about her, but you were definitely interested.

Maybe she’d come back tomorrow.

You really hoped she did.

_______________

First time ever writing for Star. What even was this? Haha. Just wanted to try something different, hopefully I wasn’t too off with her. Thanks for reading :)

#the lost boys #the lost boys star #star the lost boys #the lost boys star x reader #the lost boys imagines

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midnightseonghwa · 4 years

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 | 𝐤.𝐲𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐮 - 𝟒

✕𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Merman!Yeosang x Drowning!Reader

✕𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mermaid, Halloween Au, fluff

✕𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k+

✕𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭: Arms crossed over your heart, you’re ready to fling yourself off the edge of a cliff but good thing Yeosang is there to save you. Alternatively: “To hold a love that knows no elements.”

✕𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Strong langauge, mentions of death, suicide and drowning. Yeosang is shirtless (he’s a merman...). He’s quite fascinated with you, slightly obsessive themes and stalkerish themes.

✕𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Unedited

✕𝐀/𝐍: Remember that this is fiction. Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Leave a comment under this post or message me! Here is the mernman Yeosang...oh boy...how exciting! I hope you like it! I watched his v live where he wore the pumpkin hat and oh my god! He looked so cute with his little ponytail. This took me wayyyyyy too long to write and I know many of you were excited and stuff but like I’m not very satisfied with how this turned out? I will revisit this once I’m done with all au-s.

✕𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @pancakes-for-teddy

✕𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜: Here

The waves crashed into the rocks under you as you peeked down at the sea with dried tear stains on your cheeks.

"(Y/n)," a voice called out from the back and you closed your eyes, not wanting to hear your brother's voice for a second longer.

"G-go...go away, Seonghwa," you said, your voice tight and scratchy. Hiccups escaped your mouth, each one making the bruises on your chest hurt more.

The ocean wind whipped at your hair, making it stick to your wet cheeks and the snot running down your face.

"(Y/n), you're being stupid again. Step away from there, now," he said and walked closer with his hand stretched out.

"That's all I am for you anyway. Stupid," you spat but your voice got lost in the wind, your sobs overpowering and breaking each syllable.

"Come on, (Y/n)..." Seonghwa huffed in distress and reached out further for you.

"You don't have to do this. Please, just think it through."

His words fell on deaf ears, every thought leaving your head empty and spiralling.

"I've thought about it enough, Seonghwa. It's time for me to take action."

With that, you crossed your arms over your thumping heart and threw yourself off the cliff, every regret leaving your body.

You were finally free.

Silence surrounded your shivering form as you floated through the blue abyss. It felt as if someone had stuffed cotton in your ears. The water felt smooth and silky and left every part of your skin caressed with the hands of the ocean.

The salt stung your eyes as you managed to open them. The world above you looking blue through the lens with the refracted rays of white sunlight hitting your form. Trying to desperately blink away any sort of illusion, you felt a burning feeling rise in your chest.

The fire was so great, spreading through your entire body before you started struggling, pushing yourself up with your hands but no matter how close you thought you were to the surface, you never seemed to reach it.

That's when you realised...you were going to die.

You had wanted it, standing above sea level, ignoring your brother. But now, all you really wanted was...air.

Were you really free?

Your hands thrashed around the water, trying to grab onto anything that might provide you with aid but the quiet hum of the ocean waves above you reminded you that there was nothing.

You were alone, just as you had been your entire life.

The pain in your chest started subsiding to a dull throb and you felt your eyes grow heavy, the liquid weighing down on them. Forcing them to stay open, you thrashed around with the last of your might but to no avail, you started fading.

Eyes fluttering close, you felt your throat close up, the last bit of oxygen leaving your body. With an impending sense of doom, you closed your eyes, hoping that the ocean would spit you out instead of swallowing you whole.

You coughed. Once, twice and a third time until you shot awake, salty water flooding out of your system, each hack paining your lungs and causing your body to shake. Your hair was stuck to your face, every strand, dead and dry as reached up to wring the water out of it.

The ground under your limbs was hard and cold. Icicles shooting up your legs, rendering them numb and disabled.

"You...you're awake," you heard someone call and take a breath of relief. Whipping your head around, you squinted and examined your surrounding trying to figure out if you were already dead or not.

"Purgatory sure is shit," you muttered and took a deep breath of the salty air before stopping and looking around again.

"Is purgatory under the ocean?" You asked, completely bewildered, feeling even more lost when a certain figure attracted the attention of your eyes.

"Who...?" You trailed off and rubbed at your eyes, the reminiscent salt making your eyes sting, scratching it raw.

The figure was looking at you with narrowed eyes. His skin and hair as pale as snow, the upper portion of his body completely...naked. His porcelain skin was almost glinting in contrast to the onyx rocks as he sat with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Who are you?" The question tumbled from your lips before your brain had even registered your situation.

"Kang Yeosang," he said and you heard a bit of splashing in the water below.

Curiously, you let your eyes drift down and almost screamed at the sight of a tail instead of legs. Pushing yourself against the hard rock wall, you swallowed the gasp that was threatening to bubble up your throat and clapped a hand over your mouth. Eyes roaming, you studied his tail. The rich blue scales glistened as the little light reflected off it and his fins curved in, delicately, a translucent blue. The scales looked as if they were sequins made of the finest sapphires and were sewed in by the most skilled hands.

A bit extravagant for a Halloween costume.

"You have a tail," you stuttered out and crawled forward to the edge of the rock platform you had been placed on. The water beneath you was a dark murky blue, the depths of it unfathomable as the creatures lurked underneath.

"You're stating the obvious," the male snorted and pushed himself off the rock, swimming towards you with an offhanded curiosity that glittered in his eyes.

Approaching your figure close to the jagged edge of the rocks, he held his hand out and you found yourself slowly leaning towards him, eyes wide as you got lost in his, the dark brown surrounding you with a sense of normalcy.

His touch was soft, unlike his narrowed eyes and snarky look. Dainty fingers traced your jaw as they tapped along your cheeks and played with your hair strands.

You observed all his sharp but delicate features as they matched the energy of the sea, every wave like his unflickering eyes. Before you knew it, you were leaning closer to the water, closer to where he was before he jerked you back by the shoulder, the tip of your nose almost touching the water.

"For a species that's supposed to be smart, you sure are stupid," Yeosang said and checked you over once before swimming further into the water. Resuming your position against the rock wall again, you brought your knees up to your chest, wiggling your toes to get rid of the freezing numbness was that was taking over.

"You humans have such odd features," Yeosang commented as he swam around a bit before resting his arms and head on the rock platform. His platinum blond hair stuck to his forehead as some of the strands came down into his eyes.

"And what do you know about humans?" You asked and narrowed your eyes a bit, getting oddly defensive at his careless comment.

"Nothing actually. I've always heard about them from my brothers. You're the first one I'm seeing up close."

Gulping, you crossed your legs and leaned against the rocks, the pointed edges digging into your back, making every small move uncomfortable.

"When can I go home?" You asked to no one in particular but Yeosang just snorted and flicked some water at you.

"The one I caught drowning, now wants to go home?"

There was a certain sarcasm in his voice that just didn't sit right with you. He had stabbed you right where the festering wound was and you bit your lip, swallowing every bit of abuse and inhaled the salty ocean air instead.

"Can you at least tell me where I am?"

Yeosang looked around, the moon had now risen on top of you and was visible from a tiny hole in the rocky walls.

"An island a couple kilometres from where you jumped," he said as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

You looked around once more, seeing nothing but saltwater dripping from onyx coloured rocks and more pointed edges.

"How do I get out of here?" You said Yeosang gave a bit of a sad look.

"Why would you want to leave? Just live here! You didn't want to live anyways so you can think of this as your fresh start." Yeosang rushed before his face turned a bright red and he ducked his head into the water.

The words that flew out of his mouth were fast and didn't quite register in your head until you went through every letter he had uttered.

"Huh...?" Were the only words that left your mouth until you heard a huff from Yeosang who had now begun to swim away. It was strange to you that a half fish-man would have any sort of fascination with you even if it was purely just scientific.

But then again, you are the first human he's ever seen up close.

You watched with a confused face as Yeosang's blue tail flipped on the surface before disappearing into the blue abyss again.

Yeosang swam through the reef as he came face to face with his older brother, Hongjoong.

"Where have you been?" He asked, the red scales on his tail resembling a fiery colour.

"Somewhere," Yeosang replied and tried to move past his brother when a hand caught him.

"Wooyoung said he saw you lurking by the surface again, says that you've brought a human into the ocean."

Hongjoong's voice was cold and hostile. In entire merfolk history, never has a human ever been intertwined with their kind and for good reason. Humans were simply just too extreme for their own good. See something pretty, they'll hunt it until it's extinct. See something foreign and they'll alienate it.

"And what if I have?" Yeosang bit back with a snarl in his voice getting defensive about the human he had been observing for a while now.

"What's so special about this human," Hongjoong said and Yeosang found himself thinking back to the first day he saw you.

You had been sitting on one of the rock clusters near the beach, crying. Bleeding from the strange fingers that you had attached to your lower body as you furiously wiped at the blood with seawater, only for it to sting some more.

Absolutely fascinated by your odd state, Yeosang found himself lurking by the surface often, just to catch a glimpse of you.

He heard those other humans call you by your names, (Y/n) and what a pretty name he thought it was. Prettier than any of the pearls he would collect from the sea.

And oh, how his heart almost stopped when he saw you floating alone in the empty ocean. He had seen you enough to understand that you couldn't breathe in water. You didn't have the gills he did at the side of his neck. You needed that foul-smelling air to survive.

"I saved that human," he replied watched as Hongjoong's eyes widened before narrowing distastefully.

"Where are you keeping the human?" He asked in a clipped tone and Yeosang's shoulder dropped before he told his elder brother of the small island he was keeping you on.

"Return this human to the surface, Yeosang. And make sure we never hear of this again."

With that, Hongjoong swam away, his red tail flicking aggressively as he pushed himself through the water disappearing from Yeosang's view.

Yeosang watched as his elder brother swam away with sad eyes. He had only begun to exchange a few words with you and his brother was already telling him to return you to the surface. But he knew the truth. Yeosang knew how much you hated the surface, there was nothing for you there! At least under the sea, you'd have him and maybe even his brothers after they come around.

Sinking to the ocean floor, Yeosang let out a few tears fall out of his eyes and watched as they turned to sea glass, hitting the sandy floor before getting washed away with the slow current.

He's going to have to return you to the surface.

The ground beneath you was soft and warm and you were reminded of the warm sun that would often soak your bones as you played with Seonghwa in the backyard of your childhood home. It was different that time, the chilling cold of loneliness never cracked at your bones and you were satisfied with your, completely wholesome.

"You...you're awake," you heard a voice say as you sat up, clutching the back of your head in pain. You were half expecting the half fish-man to greet you again but instead, you saw Seonghwa's piercing gaze looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"(Y/n), don't you ever do that again," he said as he collected you in his arms and held you close.

You bit back the feeling of sadness that bubbled up in the back of your throat. You never wanted to see Seonghwa again, your elder brother who had made the recent past of your life a living hell but yet, he tried to talk you down and then was also the one to find you.

You had every reason to be grateful to an extent.

"Seonghwa, just..." you trailed off and pushed your brother off you slightly, dusting the sand that clung to every crevice of your body.

A lump of green caught your eye as you moved to lift yourself up from the sand. Clutching the small parcel like thing, you unwrapped what seemed to be seaweed to find small pieces of translucent sea glass that thrummed under the sweltering sun of the beach. Each one had a blue-ish colour and the familiar blue hue of the half fish-man's tail crept into your head. Shaking your head, you wrapped the seaweed again and tucked the small parcel into drenched clothes.

"Let's go home, (Y/n)," Seonghwa said as he pulled you forcefully towards town.

Looking back over your shoulder one last time, you blinked as you saw a mop of platinum blond hair bop in the ocean. Just as you snatched your hand out of Seonghwa's to go closer, the ocean stilled again, leaving you with nothing but the curling waves.

"You're thinking about that human," San, one of Yeosang's brothers stated with a sigh as he settled next to Yeosang on the rock.

"No..." Yeosang trailed off and watched the fragments of sea glass drift away into the ocean current that glittered under the sunlight.

"Yes, you are," San pushed and Yeosang just sighed, ripping one of the seaweeds out of its roots and tearing it apart in frustration.

"I'm just so fascinated by (Y/n). There's something about that human that calls to me, San," he said and pouted at the fish that floated through the coral reef.

"Then go to them," San concluded with a determined tone and Yeosang just looked at his brother with narrowed eyes.

"Hongjoong would never allow that," he said and flicked the end of his tail, losing all hope and sulking.

San sighed in frustration and grabbed Yeosang by the arm, dragging him through the ocean by his arm, inching closer to the surface.

Breaking through the water surface, San and Yeosang settled near a cluster of rocks, the wind whistling and mixing with the ocean sunlight.

Human littered the shore, some walking their dogs and others just sitting on the sand. Yeosang's eyes searched for yours but in a crowd filled with strange limbs, he never saw yours.

"(Y/n)'s not here" he sighed and dived back into the ocean, San following.

As Seonghwa dragged you through town, you found yourself cowering under the gaze of all the individuals you thought you had left behind. The stares and the whispers, isolating you from the world just as they had before.

Seonghwa didn't stop until he had reached your room and pushed you inside of it.

"You're going to stay here until I deem it safe for you to go out again. What do you think mother and father would've thought if they saw you now, huh?" He demanded and you hung your head in shame.

The sound of Seonghwa exiting the room and locking the door echoed through the drab grey walls as you sat on the single bed with white bedsheets wallowing away in your self-pity and loneliness as you had in the past.

Days passed and you found yourself teetering on the edge of insanity, with nothing but the grey walls staring back at you.

Trying your luck for the fourth time today, you banged your hand against the door as the sound of footsteps shuffled closer.

"Seonghwa...please...just please let me out. I'm going to crazy in here," you cried and banged on the door one last time before your brother's face appeared in front of you.

"(Y/n)," he sighed and pushed a plate of food into your hands before closing the door again.

Only this time, you jammed your foot in between, preventing your elder brother from closing the door.

"What-" he started but wasn't able to finish as you thrust the plate of food into his hand, shoving him aside and running towards the front door and throwing yourself to the wind.

Seonghwa watched with frustration in his eyes as you ran, barefoot through the town.

This time, he'd have to let you go, his little sister.

Yeosang yelped with peaking curiosity and a racing heart as he saw a human sitting on the same cluster of rocks he had first seen you on. Said human was bleeding from their toes, scrubbing at them with saltwater furiously.

The merman found himself thinking about you again as he inched closer, hoping it was you.

Ripples formed in the water under you, causing you to look up and squint into the distance. A familiar blue tail diving into the distance caught your attention as you hurried to your feet, diving into the ocean again, trying your best to follow the tail.

The gashes on your feet stung with the salt being rubbed in the wounds but you wanted to catch the blue tail. Your lungs burned, the lack of oxygen reaching your head, making you dizzy.

Before you knew it, a hand reached to grab your ankle, pulling you close and into their chest. You opened your eyes, eyeball stinging as you saw Yeosang in front of you, his platinum blond hair sticking up in the water.

You opened your mouth in shock, a rush of bubbles leaving your mouth as Yeosang drew you close and pressed his lips to yours.

There was a sense of urgency in the kiss, desperation that you had never felt as he moulded his lips against yours, air entering your system, flooding it to life.

You pushed yourself away from him, feet kicking as you tried to reach the surface, clawing at our throat to rid the closing feeling.

Yeosang rubbed at your arms in an indication to calm down.

"(Y/n), just calm down and take deep breaths," he said and but you shook your head and continued to struggle, pulling away from him with thrashing arms.

He was trying to kill you.

"Just please, let me go. I'll find a way to go back to the island you had held me on, I don't want to die like this," you said and breathed in only for Yeosang to chuckle and stroke your cheek.

He found you so impossibly endearing that his brother's words felt like some sort of blur in his mind.

"You can breathe fine," he said and let you go, only for you to freeze up and take another breath just to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Your throat opened up and found yourself taking deeper inhales just to put Yeosang's theory to test.

"Holy shit," you whispered as you stared at the blue-tailed boy in front of you.

"How did you...what did you?" Your lack of words made Yeosang smile as he swam towards you slowly, pulling you by the arm and leading you deeper into the water,

The water shimmered under the sunlight that reached the surface as the bottom morphed into an inky blue. Fish of different colours swam by you as they tickled your skin, giggles escaping you at the sensation.

Yeosang stayed quiet as he watched you marvel at everything his world could offer.

If only he was a human or you were a mermaid, maybe he would have an actual chance at winning your heart. This thought made Yeosang frown as his heart dropped to his stomach. His sensitive scales bristled against the water due to his sudden mood change and you felt the water around you get colder.

"Are you okay, fish-man?" You asked and drew your eyebrows in with concern.

Yeosang shook his head and scoffed lightly, trying his best to change his mood and divert your attention to another topic.

"My name isn't fish-man. It's Yeosang, I've already mentioned it to you before."

There was a tone of annoyance in his voice and you couldn't help but give him a playful smile which he happily returned.

Swimming further, Yeosang led you back to the small island where you had first woken up.

Hosting yourself up onto the rocks, you looked around at the drab atmosphere and inhaled, feeling good to have some oxygen in you.

"Isn't there any vegetation here?" You asked and Yeosang just tilted his head in confusion.

"This is the only part that's connected to the water. You can try and find a way out but I won't be able to help you," he said and brought the tip of his fins out of the tail, flicking some water at you.

"Oh, alright," you said, slightly disheartened at the reminder that Yeosang wasn't human like you.

Yeosang must have seen the drop of your expression as he quickly swam up to you and hoisted himself up so that he was at the same level as you.

"You'll never be alone, though," he said and pushed some of your wet hair out of your face.

"You're still a stranger to me," you whispered back and he smiled.

"You're not one to me and I'll try my best to not be one to you either. Although now that I've saved your life twice, I would say we're past the stranger phase."

You gave a dry laugh and squeezed some of the water out of your clothes causing the seaweed wrapped sea glass fragments to fall out.

You reached up to tuck it back into your clothes when Yeosang's hand grabbed it first.

"You...you found this?" He asked and you nodded, slightly scared he was going to accuse you fo stealing something precious.

"What is it?" You asked, voice pitchy as you tried to hide your growing panic.

"My tears," he said and you found all panic fade as sadness replaced it instead.

Silence lingered in the air as you stared at the translucent blue glass pieces.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and he just shook his head.

"It's alright, I left them with you for a reason. I just didn't think you would find them, let alone keep them," he finished and pushed himself back into the water.

"They're very tragically beautiful," you said and laid them out in front of you. They had faded in colour a little but they still no doubt resembled Yeosang's blue tail.

"My brothers just don't understand my fondness for you," he sighed and pushed himself below the water before raising his eyes to meet you again.

You pushed your legs forward, just enough to dip your toes into the water.

Yeosang swam around in circles before stopping in front of you.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he said and cocked his head like a little puppy asking for a treat.

You hummed in response, completely ignoring the fact that he knew your name even though you never told him.

"Who's that human that always makes you sad? He was there when I saw you jump from the cliff."

The question made you stiffen and stare at your toes as they dipped in and out of the water.

"His name's Seonghwa...he's my elder brother," you said and Yeosang just nodded, oddly watching your legs.

"I don't like him," he concluded like a small child and you laughed, tilting your head back and Yeosang swore it was the prettiest sound that had ever graced his ears.

"I don't either," you said and rested your chin on your folded elbows that were rested on top of your knees.

"I can sacrifice him to the sirens, if you want," Yeosang suggested and you laughed again.

"That's so romantic," you said and smiled at the way Yeosang's face lit up.

"Anything for you," he said and your heart soared at the declaration. This half fish-man wore his heart on his sleeve and it seemed as if it was for you.

"Thank you, that'd be nice."

Silence once again engulfed the atmosphere as you watched Yeosang play with the water. It was comforting to hear the water drip from the jagged edges of the rock.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he asked once again and you raised your head.

"Yeah?"

"What are those strange things attached to your lower body?" He asked with a certain childlike innocence that made you want to coo and stroke his hair.

"You mean..." you sniggered and pulled your legs closer.

"My legs?" Your lips curled up into a smile as you broke out into the heartiest laughter that ever racked your body.

"Oh, they're called legs. What about those small fingers?" He said and touched one of your toes, swimming back slightly when you wiggled them in his face.

"They're called toes," you said and watched in inhumane curiosity as Yeosang inspected them, only to bring his face close and sniff them.

"What are you- no! You're not supposed to put them in your mouth! Yeosang, stop!"

The waves crashed onto the shore as you peeked down at the sea with a smile on your face.

The sun was bright above your head as the cool wind blew through your hair, making you close your eyes and reminisce in the feeling.

"(Y/n)," you heard a voice call and you giggled at the smooth tone of the voice that was calling your name.

"Are you ready?" Yeosang called and you smiled, crossing your arms over your chest and jumping into the water below, squealing due to the pure delight.

Landing in the water with a gush of bubbles, Yeosang wrapped you in his arms, pulling you close for a kiss as he gifted you with the ability to breathe underwater.

"Let's go," he said and you nodded, letting yourself be pulled by Yeosang as you watched his blue scales twinkle in the ocean and his tail flicker seamlessly along with the current.

You were finally free.

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