#hes gotta keep himself entertained between jobs somehow

[daywalker-rr]

sparda brothers get a bong

#the bong isnt new btw. its dantes #if you even care #hes gotta keep himself entertained between jobs somehow #dmc #dmc3 #devil may cry #devil may cry 3 #dante dmc #vergil dmc #dante devil may cry #vergil devil may cry #vergil sparda #dante sparda #sparda twins #my art

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 316: We've Had One, Yes, But What About Second Explosion

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all “[powers up like whoa because it’s time to end the fight]”, and he saved Overhaul from getting not-shot, and then smashed up Nagant’s arm with the power of his new rechargeable super knees. Nagant was all “yoooo this kid is crazy strong whaaaat, it’s like he’s some kind of protagonist or something.” Deku was all “I AM A PROTAGONIST, ACTUALLY, DO YOU WANT TO JOIN FORCES AND FIGHT BAD GUYS WITH ME?” Nagant was all “ah shit why the hell no -- ” and then AFO was all “SURPRISE” and everyone was all “?!?!?!” and AFO was all “TIME TO EXPLODE NOW” and made Nagant explode because he’s an absolute fucking dick. And then Hawks showed up, because Horikoshi just wanted to stuff as many plot points as humanly possible into a single chapter I guess.

Today on BnHA: Hawks is all “good job giving motivational shounen redemption speeches Deku but I’ll take it from here” and screams very earnestly right in Nagant’s face until she finally wakes up. Nagant is all “oh hey it’s my successor, you seem surprisingly unfucked-up from your own HPSC tenure, how did you manage that?” Hawks is all “fandom is going to love hearing this one, but basically it’s because I’m very upbeat and also I had the world’s best role model Endeavor to look up to,” and I swear this man stirs the pot on purpose, but damn it I still love him so damn much. Overhaul is all “HELLO AGAIN, JUST A REMINDER THAT, THE BOSS!!” and Deku is all “MAYBE TAKE TWO SECONDS TO REFLECT ON HOW YOU TORTURED A LITTLE GIRL,” which, thank you, lol. Nagant is all “btw AFO’s hiding in a house in the woods”, and so Deku and the gang go to the house in the woods. Video recording!AFO is all “hi I’m AFO welcome to Jackass” and blows up the house. Sometimes I wonder if this manga is just a weird dream.

I am once again reading the Bean version because I think it was actually the best out of all three translations last week. and that is surprisingly including Viz’s. “faux” is not nearly as entertaining as “knockoff”, and also I have literally no idea why Caleb thought Deku was saying the Third’s lines lol

oh hey, Endeavor’s here too! not that you’d ever be able to tell from this first panel lmao

glad you received All Might’s call, mysterious unidentified glowing smudge

oh snap he says he’s weaker in the rain. is that why AFO told Nagant to attack then?? except that as we discussed the other day, I believe that AFO fully intended for Nagant to lose the fight, so him giving her info that would give her an advantage doesn’t really fit in with that. maybe he wanted Deku to be separated from Endeavor and the rest for maximum angst, though

btw Deku’s eyes are unsurprisingly back to the new normal here

alas, the angst continues. I say, pretending like I’m not totally eating it up each and every week and writing essay after essay about it lol

anyway so apparently Hawks can’t actually fly lmao. he was just yeeting himself with style

for some reason this is the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen omfg. wave to Hawks, kids! say “bye, Hawks!”

j/k of course Deku is catching them. -- except???

wow so he was just running on fumes there at the end. well, good to know there is actually a limit to his shenanigans, particularly regarding this new “knockoff” 100% OFA. it will definitely not alleviate any of the discourse, but it’s good for my own peace of mind because it’s solid confirmation that he still needs his pals in order to win this thing

anyway, but on to the rest of this conversation, which is basically Deku deducing what we all deduced last week -- AFO implanted some sort of trap into Nagant when he gave her Air Walk. though I’d still like to get the actual details from AFO and/or Horikoshi, because this was particularly wild even by quirk standards lol

omgggggg

she still has a face after all!! so it’s confirmed, Horikoshi has no idea what “blowing up” actually means. we might have guessed, based on what happened to Toga in the MVA arc, and also based on everything Katsuki does ever, but shhh

so now Hawks is all “NAGANT PLEASE WAKE UP, IF I SHOUT MY NAME AT YOU WILL THAT DO THE TRICK”

this is actually kind of touching though because even though we all know (or most of us acknowledge at any rate) that Hawks is a pretty caring person, it’s rare to see him actually panic over someone’s welfare like this

oh shit Horikoshi is really doubling down on it

I wonder how much Hawks knew about what really happened between Nagant and the HPSC. regardless, he probably sees her as a kindred spirit of sorts, and I’m more than happy for Deku to pass the redemption torch onto him now that he’s on the scene. like no offense Deku but they actually know each other and stuff lol

DAMMIT NAGANT CAN’T YOU SEE HOW LOUD HE IS YELLING

apparently being freed from his HPSC shackles has finally given Hawks the space to embrace his own inner shounen protagonist. is there anything more shounen than trying to motivationally scream someone awake when they’re lying in your arms inches from death?? 100% guaranteed to work

!!! IS THIS NAGANT’S POV OMG

SO SHE IS ALIVE. THANK GOD. Horikoshi doesn’t want to meet with my emotional distress lawyer today after all

love how she’s all “just gonna stir up the weekly Hawks Discourse pot here by implying that he probably committed a lot of Atrocities just like I did, so now people can get all hopped up about that, even though there’s no evidence he’s ever killed anyone aside from that one horrible ‘damned-if-you-do...’ situation with Twice.” no one asked for your provocative speculation young lady!! trust me Nagant, our rabbles don’t need the rousing lol

but nice save there with the “so how are your eyes so untainted” well you see it’s because even when he was following the HPSC’s orders he always went to great lengths never to go against his own moral compass. which just to be clear was incredibly difficult, and led to a ton of pain and suffering on his part, because the life of a spy is basically just one impossible situation after another. but in spite of that he never stopped trying to do his best to help people. I don’t really know where this tangent came from or is leading to, lol, but anyway p.s.a. I love Hawks a lot and he’s a good kid dammit

oh shit??!?

how is the League always able to swing all these fancy forest mansions. where do they find them. how many do they have

so Deku’s dropping them -- very roughly, not sure if he was reacting to finally getting AFO’s location, or if his energy really is giving out -- and now Nagant’s saying that AFO hired other villains as well. well of course he did. gotta keep chipping away at OFA’s ninth successor little by little

now Nagant is asking Hawks how he’s able to keep making “that” face. I assume she’s again talking about the fact that he somehow didn’t let the HPSC wear down his spirit

oh my god???

thanks for stuffing this chapter to the brim with good nutritional Hawks Feels, Horikoshi. what a good. he just keeps on trudging forward undeterred no matter what bullshit comes his way. what a steadfast little guy. I WILL PROTECT YOU FROM DISCOURSE MY SWEET SUNSHINE

lmaoooo

“SPOTTED THIS DUDE JUST CHILLING OUT THERE ON THE ROOF WITH NO ARMS, SEEMED PRETTY SUS” good job Endeavor

anyway so you don’t really need me to tell you that Overhaul is immediately starting in with the “BUT THE BOSS WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE ME TO THE BOSS YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD TAKE ME TO THE BOSS” stuff again. but I will go ahead and tell you anyway. so yeah. he’s doing that

OMG YOU GUYS LOOK AT DEKU’S “of all the fucking assholes to just randomly drop in on my life once again why did it have to be you” FACE THOUGH, OMG

fun fact, if you go back to chapters 124 through 160, there was an entire story arc where Overhaul imprisoned and tortured a little girl. yeah, I know!! suuuuuuuuper evil. anyways just an interesting little anecdote for you all that’s somewhat relevant to the current situation

OMG, YES. FUCK YES, DEKU

THEN WHAT ABOUT SPARING ONE FOR HER!!! YES!!! EXACTLY!!! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, SOMEONE GETS IT

HERE’S THE PANEL OF DEKU SAYING THE EXACT SAME THING I’M SAYING LOL

(ETA: so apparently there’s some discourse about this because some people are interpreting this as Deku saying “you should apologize to Eri”, which would obviously be a terrible idea even if Overhaul actually wanted to do that, because Eri shouldn’t ever have to see him again. however I just want to point out that there is a HUGE difference between saying “it would be nice if you could direct that feeling of regret/being sorry towards Eri as well”, vs saying “you should also apologize to her.” all Deku is doing is rightfully pointing out that Overhaul has hurt way more people than just his boss, and if he really is remorseful, then he should extend those feelings of remorse to Eri and the rest as well. it’s not a directive to take any specific action, and I’m 1000% sure no one at U.A. would let Overhaul within 100 miles of Eri ever again.

tl;dr “try feeling remorse sometime” =/= “do you want me to fly you over to U.A. right now to surprise the little girl you traumatized”, lol.)

[slings an arm around Deku’s shoulders] you’re a good kid. I like you. I don’t know if I tell you that enough, but it’s true

meanwhile here is Overhaul’s “spare... a thought... for Eri...???????” face sigh

the struggle is real y’all

(ETA: and that’s... the last we ever saw of Overhaul, I guess? well all right then. I assume Deku will make good on his promise, so we know he’ll get that little bit of closure before going back to jail or whatever, and I confess I’m more than fine with leaving the rest of it open-ended, especially given his character’s history. I think this was pretty generous all things considered.)

lmao holy shit

All Might what did you do to those tiki torch guys?? did you thrash them. did you give ‘em those hands. did you deliver their own asses to them complete with a sticker reminding them Amazon Prime Day is on June 21. we missed out goddammit

so Endeavor, who wasn’t the one he was asking, is telling him that they captured (well let’s be real, Deku captured, give the credit where it’s due) Nagant and Overhaul. and so I guess they’re going to take Nagant to the ER now

fire is no one’s weakness

-- oh my GOD I scrolled down and audibly gasped

[is politely but firmly approached and asked to remove my arm from Deku’s shoulder by the physical manifestation of all this Dekuangst] “we’re sorry, he’s not allowed to have visitors right now” oh shit, my bad. [goes to stand behind a police barricade]

lmao what. did you run out of room on the previous page

what an exaggerated fade to black lmao

-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I actually can’t see what he’s reacting to so maybe I’m just seriously jumping the gun here lol, but THE HELL WITH IT. the next panel appears to be a cut to Haibori Forest, so I’m just gonna go ahead and declare that Deku ran off on his own all wounded to go have more Dekuangst, just like I manifested. now go call Katsuki goddammit

[scrolls three more inches down] oh

yeah so like I said, Deku is walking very slowly a few feet in front of Endeavor, who’s telling him to wait up. yep. we’ve all gotta be so careful to not just jump to conclusions. I know we’re excited but still

anyway, so! welcome back to Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods (ARE YOU GUYS DATING) and Edgeshot! have fun walking into this obvious trap lol

dammit Deku why are you so determined to tempt fate

[monkey puppet meme faces]

OH MY GOD THIS IS PURE GRADE-A CHEESY COMIC BOOK VILLAIN 101 SHIT AND I’M HERE FOR IT

that’s such a weird way of clapping who claps like that

unlike certain other people who shan’t be named, AFO doesn’t feel the need to inexplicably take his shirt off when recording sinister villain monologues. I think we’re all pretty grateful for that

high fives to everyone who called it!! yep yep

anyway so this whole scene has major booby-trap vibes, which I’m enjoying immensely even though I don’t think anything is really going to come of it lol. probably just another long-winded AFO Speech. but wouldn’t it be funny if like the ceiling started lowering down to try and squish Deku afterwards lol

(ETA: well the explosion was still pretty funny too ngl.)

ffff

[“Dekuangst is the trap” intensifies]

anyway so yeah. he’s just hitting up all of his usual villain talking points. we get it, you’re so smart and you see right through the thin veneers of society and people who don’t conform are left to fend for themselves and labeled as villains and history is written by the victors, and blah blah blah dude are you just jumping randomly from one soundbyte to another lol. literally what are you talking about. what does this have to do with you blowing up Nagant

-- holy shit??

[”Dekuangst is the trap” intensifies MORE?????]

LOL WHAT

BRO. WHAT IS WITH YOU. DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO LAY ANY OTHER KIND OF FUCKING TRAP GOOD LORD

“YOU’RE NEXT” THE CALLBACK?? THE PARALLELS?? THOUGH WHEN ALL MIGHT POINTED HE MADE IT LOOK WAY COOLER. AFO’S POINTING JUST LOOKS LIKE SMOKEY THE BEAR

HAS ANYONE CHECKED IN ON KAMUI WOODS I HEAR HE IS WEAK TO FIRE?? THE ONLY ONE WHO IS, APPARENTLY

r.i.p. to this particular forest mansion. don’t worry they have a ton of backups

remember last week when I said maybe AFO thinks explosions are gauche. well never mind. he fucking loves explosions

anyway so that’s the end of BnHA, everyone. hope you enjoyed. it was a good ride while it lasted. see you all, good luck in your travels

#bnha 316 #hawks #takami keigo #lady nagant #midoriya izuku #all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #manifesting 317 opening with a slightly modified version of my previous fantasy scenario lmao #'WHADDYA MEAN THEY BLEW UP THE NERD' #that's *his* job #sorry lol I kid I kid

[ticklygiggles]

Obey Me! N$FW Headcanons!

Written with @otomiya-tickles

Oh goodness, sweet Ginny and I are way too invested on these boys! We've been talking about the Obey Me boys' virginity and masturbating likings, and we decided to post these bunch of naughty hc’s. We hope you enjoy them~

Diavolo

We think this sweet looking guy has fucked at least once (don’t let him fool you, he’s fucked more than that)

We also think it can be because he was feeling horny and wanted to satisfy his needs or because he wanted something in return

When it comes to masturbating - he’s a shameless one

He’d go to the bathroom before a meeting or in the middle of the day to jerk off!

Goes back fresh as a lettuce, uf

One of Diavolo's fantasies is having someone looking at him while he masturbates!

He also has very sensitive nipples, you can’t change our minds

We think that when it comes to sex, Diavolo wouldn’t enjoy it as much if he’s not doing it with someone he loves

He’d just do it for some regular sexual thrill, but nothing too exciting

All for the dick, lololololol

Lucifer

Oh goodness, we think he wouldn’t be that interested about sex, but he’s up to do it if he feels the need!

We dare to say that he’d try to please Diavolo if he’s asked to, just like in our tickle hc’s!

L: “Fine. *sigh* if you must… Can I refuse?” D: “Noooo!!!” L: “Alright,, but make it quick” D: “I will, I will!!!”

Something like that, lolololololol

But sometimes when he sees how happy the other person gets he might smile a little (which is just too charming), or when he makes the other person feel real good

He will have a satisfied smirk

We think he’d be the pickiest little shit out there when it comes to choose a sex partner

He just won’t have sex with anyone! It doesn’t matter if they’re the most beautiful being alive, if there’s something he doesn’t like, then he won’t have sex with them!

Unlike Simeon, he’s not that flirty and doesn’t tease much, but of course he’d be so hard to get!

Both in ship and non-ship case, we think he’ll help Diavolo fulfill his sexual needs, but other than that he seems a very hard one to lay a hand on!

We thiiink Diavolo would make him watch while he masturbates, huhu

And Diavolo would be like “Touch my nipples?” and of course, Lucifer can’t deny him

We also think that since the MC manages to win him over, he just has the sexual hots for them!

We think Lucifer wouldn’t be horny for celestial beings since he wants nothing to do with heavenly things!

He knows and acknowledges angels are attractive but somehow horny is just not in his book

Unless with the one he really likes then he can be a beast xD

Omg, Lucifer banned the word Sex in the House of Lamentation, hahaha!

He really doesn’t like his brothers talking about sex. He’s just not interested in their sexual lives!

The horny bunch got their own chat room to talk about their nasty sex xD

Be it Mammon or Asmo talking about it (they both do it a lot) or they making remarks about Levi jerking off to things (Levi is flustered)

Those kinds of talks are not appreciated by almighty Lucifer

Asmodeus

Of course you won’t expect the Avatar of Lust to be a virgin, right? Because he is not!

He’d have sex with anyone attractive and that wants to have sex with him!

He’s also on the top of the masturbation list

Kinky bastard

Oh goodness, we think Asmo and Mammon have horny competitions like “how many times can you cum in one night?” or “how many times can you make your partner cum in one night?”

Actually these competitions were one of the reason talking about sex is banned in the House of Lamentation

Lucifer was like “Enough, you nasty pigs!” With that offended expression (you should know which one): wide eyes, a little gasp, a hand against his chest, yes. He’s pissed

Beelzebub

We think Beel is too busy with his food to notice that he has sexual needs

… Unless he’s making out with his S/O, then he realizes how needy he is!

He also likes to use his mouth! Be it nibbling, sucking, biting, licking, just everything!

He will eat the other person and make teasy remarks that they taste good!

He’s not necessarily kinky, but anything that includes food is a bonus for him!

Like whipped cream on his partner’s body or flavour oils!

We think Beel would come up to his s/o with his happy smile holding up a new flavour oil like “I got this. Let’s use it tonight!”

We also think he’d be so good at kissing (and blowjobs) because he uses his tongue a lot!

He’s an expert with his mouth. Just him kissing and sucking a neck can make a person weak already!

Barbatos

He’s also fucked before, so no Royal Virgins

We think he’s so into blowjobs and handjobs (mostly receiving)

He hardly ever jerked himself off, he will let others do it, omg!

He’s also so kinky: humiliating his partner, spanking, bondage, he’s up to everything

He's pretty resilient tho, like he can do a lot without getting hard yet hahaha!

Simeon

We have no shame. Where’s the fun if our hot angel is not in these hc’s?

We think Simeon is the candy everyone would want but can’t get!

Honestly, this man doesn’t need to be naked to turn people on!

He’s sexy and hot and hard to get, so he might please others sometimes

He doesn’t get touched or fucked easily because he’s definitely “keeping himself” for the person he loves!

He’ll give someone a handjob, but then the other person wants to do something back to him and he’s like “Naaaah” *graciously leaves*

We think he wouldn’t use his mouth on someone else, though, so he’d be like “Hmm? I can give you a hand job”, while he does a very dirty move with his hand, ay

He’s also extremely skilled at it! Like??? How?!

He’s also a tease!

He’d say things like “oh goodness, you’re so wet. Does it feel that good~?”

And it’s so frustrating because he doesn’t get hard! Only for the person he loves, fufu

Leviathan

It’s a dirty Otaku, no kidding LOL

We think he fantasizes, watches (you know what) and jerks off a lot

However, when it comes down to it he's shy and awkward

Definitely knows how to touch himself, but having someone touching him and/or touching someone???

Levi. exe has stopped working

He’s super subby and likes being told what to do, but he’s also cute and clumsy!

We think Levi is into many nasty things lolololol

As a dirty otaku he's seen a lot of things including the kinky shit: bondage SM/ tentacle sex (lolllll) so not really vanilla x'D he's just shy to ask or suggest anything

But he does get super hard whenever someone is dominant over him

He's definitely curious about all things he's seen, but he's way way too shy!

We think he probably just sends screenshots of the things he'd like to do and his partner is like "you want that? We can do it~"

We also think that he's jerked off so much and he knows how to please himself so well that it's a bit hard for him to come!

Like he needs a lot of pleasure and build up and other turn ons (like the kinky shit), and lots of verbal teasing to get him over the edge

Levi just needs a lot of stimulation, even though he is a virgin!

We also think he apologizes so much during sex! He’d be apologizing through all his moans and cries sdnjdsg

Like he will apologize if he doesnt come and then when he does come all over the other person he will apologize too haha

He's kinda into edging/denial? Like it takes a lot of time to make him cum, so it'd frustrate him so much if they stop when he's finally so close!

And he loves it when the other punishes him, like he doesn't necessarily act like a brat or something to be punished but he gets it on him anyway and when he does,it’s such a turn on for him haha!

He'd probably like to be spanked, but nothing too intense because he's baby

Levi usually talks SO much, so we think his dom can often tease him with that! Like “where are your big talks now~?”

To which Levi makes very courageous remarks like "don't touch me, normie" between moans and broken voice and his partner just "*spank* how did you call me?”

We think the whole concept of sex just changes him into this cute shy boy who's only had much experience with porn and fantasies

So he goes from the HOOOOOH loud Levi to just cute mewls, moans and apologies hahaha

We also think that he’d get ticklish when touched for the first tiiime, he’s so nervous and jumpy! Imagine him letting out this moany surprised giggles asjnd

He's also so ripped! He'd get flustered if you comment about his muscles!

His partner could be like "look how good your body is even if you're just an otaku staying inside all day long" and Levi is like "so meeaaan!!" All teary but his cock’s jumping skdjnff

While we do think Levi takes long to cum, he DOEs get hard pretty fast hahahaha

like maybe even when he's not fully undressed yet the bulge will already be visible!

We love cute kinky submissive dirty otaku boy >:)

Solomon

He’s kinky, HAHA

A top tease! Like 24/7 smug and teasy and he will make the receiver beg and ask for it and play dumb like "What do you want? You'll have to be specific."

He’s also very hard to please!

Like even to get him hard it’s hard xD he's enjoying his time with his s/o, but he's skdkf not hard!!

He can endure a lot without getting horny but he just loves to watch a person get weak under his touch

We think even when he's on the receiving end, he gets all teasy and constantly challenges the other, like “is that all you got? 8-) You gotta try harder~”

We also think he can control himself a lot! Like he can hold his orgasms for quite a long time and be like "I’m not even close~"

He rarely jerks off because he's not that entertained by it, he just needs someone to tease and make crazy haha

We love the idea of almighty Solomon getting overpowered by an even higher top!

We don't think he will ever 'break completely' and beg or do anything uncool but he'll definitely have less of an attitude once taken good care of

He’d be like "o-okay that's... That's enough" and his partner all like "huh? We're just starting, Solomon, so keep yourself together" while he blushes a lot!

He sounds so hot when he moans and gasps! His voice is a hidden treasure!

And once he finally DOES reach his orgasm his entire body gets sooo sensitive!

He'd be a whiny mess if his partner brushes their fingertips or nails against his skin!

He'd squirm so much and maybe let out a whiny giggle????

Belphegor

Belphie can be both genuine and teasy at the same time like "Does it feel good?"

He often needs confirmation and he often says things like "I'm inexperienced" or "I'm not sure how to do this" but he tries his best anyway

And besides saying things like "I'm inexperienced, I'm not sure what to dooo" he might say things like "Beel probably knows what to do." and he adorably tends to mention beel and the receiver will have to be like x3 omg no belphie you're doing fine

He'd be a little lazy to please his partner xD like he tries his best, but after he's like "I'm tired" and he wants to be taken care of!

He tends to get overwhelmed pretty fast by pleasure so he might ask the other to stop even when his body doesn't want it to stop but he's just like PSPHHgailugigh

He probably comes too fast the first times he has sex with his partner! He maybe just cums when they play with his nipples because he’s that sensitive!

He is so sensitive and his moans are so cute and whiny

We think he might be sore the next day xD he will complain a lot about being sore and tired haha

His body also gets tired fast during any intercourse, even though he does feel good and enjoys it, he will whine and whimper about it haha

He’d like to find little hickeys on his neck, chest or thighs the next day too!

He’s also very sensitive to neck kisses, probably enough to already stimulate him sexually since he’s so sensitive!

His little moans would be the cutest! And if he gets to make the other party feel good, he will show his precious smile!

Satan

We think Satan wouldn't be too interested in sex, (he spends his time trying to be better than Lucifer skdndnd)

BUT we also think that he reads erotic books every once in a while and like those book don't necessarily turn him on per say, but make him feel blushy and a bit giddy about having someone to enjoy sexy times with!

He'd be quite knowledgeable and a bit shy like “I read that this feels good, may I?” He is not like super horny but he likes to experiment a bit and is just so sweet 😍👏🏻

He's got skills to make his partner feel good, but he'd be so, so blushy and would feel flustered if his partner compliments him about how good he is!

ALSO! Someone should not mention Lucifer in any competitive matter because that might activate his hidden beast

When he's receiving, he tries to hold himself back so much! Like his moans and any noises!

He just wants to hide how sensitive he really is!

His s/o would be a little pouty like "are you not liking it?" and he just adorably nods but he keeps controlling himself as much as possible hehe

And sometimes a cute little moan escapes and he blushes so much omg

Also he has super sensitive nipples, if he gets touched there he'd be arching his back so much and would cover his mouth with one of his hands to hold back his sounds and would grip the sheets with his free hand!! He'd be all beggy like "please don't touch me there~" while his hips circle and thrust because it feels so good!

We think bondage will work really good on him since he tends to squirm a lot and cover up. He’s so helpless if he can’t!

He'd be pulling at his restrains and biting his lip so hard and begging for his s/o to let him go (even though he can escape on his own), and they're just teasing him

He’d also get extra sensitive if he’s being edged, like everytime they deny him his release, he'd just feel more and more sensitive and eventually won't be able to stop his sounds!

Satan begs a lot and he whines adorably but he’ll never say a safe word or give up

Satan being like this makes us want to wreck him!

We think he'd get a bit turned on if his s/o brush their fingers against his sides and he’d be so shy if he lets out a little giggle here and there!

"don't- don't tihihickle me right nohohow!" And his cock is shaking dkdnf

He’s also the type to get ticklish and super sensitive everywhere especially after an orgasm

And his giggles and moans are so cuuute and he sounds tired and whiny and he shakes his head adorably omg

His cheeks super red babyyyyyy

Mammon (tumblr didn't let me upload a pic, wtf?)

He’s a beast! Will have no mercy, so brace yourself!

To be fair, he’s really good in sex, so he loves praises! Compliments stimulate him. He needs to hear how good he is!

What can you expect from the Avatar of Greed, right?

He’s the typical guy to run after his dick, lololol! He’s all about money and sex!

We think he gets horny and hard in the most uncomfortable moments. He gets so many boners a day wtf

Even his brothers just stare awkwardly at his crotch… “wait… are you hard? o_O”

We also think he loves receiving blowjobs and he loooves to hold his partner by their hair!

He’s a passionate mouth fucker

He probably feels a bit vulnerable when people touch him elsewhere like, he just wants the attention for his dick!

And he might be sensitive somewhere else but he doens't quite like to be touched unless it's his love haha

He's really picky! Like if he's with someone else, then it's just dick attention, but if it's the person he loves, then they'd let him touch him everywhere!

He's a bit less casual about it than Diavolo, but he does jerk off from time to time and people will be able to tell from the look on his face haha

And he doesn't like to be confronted and teased with it, while Diavolo won’t give a shit

However, Asmo would tease him so much just because he knows Mammon hates that!

He’d be like "woah! Did you have a good one, Mammon~?" or “what did you think of mammoonnn?<3”

Also Asmo and maybe even the others might make some remarks like "Ugh, Mammon would jerk off to this"

Probably besides Asmo he might have some arguments with Levi from time to time, like Mammon's a nasty perv normie and Levi the dirty otaku

Levi would probably agree whenever someone's like “ugh Mammon would jerk off to this” or any other remark like “oh, he probably just gonna suck on his own dick!

And mammon will fire back at Levi for being a dirty otaku

We also think that Mammon has walked into Levi's room when he was watching anime porn hahaha

Mammon thinks his own porn is superior and Levi is like "that normie stuff is gross, this is way better" so Mammon ends up watching hentai with Levi xD

Also if people ever need condoms he probably has a good stash. He's really picky, so of course he'd have his stash of condoms! We're not risking anything here hahaha

It’s hard to Dom him, like he’s not super Dom, but he likes to be the possessive one!

He also might have a lot of kink stuff stored but in the end he just doesn't end up using it?

He would like to be kinky but in the end he just has normal sex

He’s also easy to distract! Like he's super horny and has the handcuffs or something else kinky ready, but the other person just can give him a blow job and let him fuck them and then it's done and he's like ohh oh well

He'd also be a bit turned off easily, like, he's still hard and all, but at then he ends up having sex just because, but he's bored, but if he's turned ON he can stay turned on for quite a while haha hes a beast!

Like fuck after fuck even after he comes! He likes it raw and he loves to hear his partner whining so much about how they just came too

He also likes to hear his partner saying just how tired they are and he'd give them this wide, lethal smirk and be like "we're just starting, so put yourself together"

And he's sweating a bit and his cheeks are a bit flushed and his skin just glooowwsss because he's feeling so good!

We also think Mammon is not too loud when having sex, he’s just not a moaner, but he will grunt and huff and occasionally you'll hear this kind of growl that just proves how good it makes him feel

#Obey me #Obey Me! #Obey Me shall we date #Lucifer #Mammon #Leviathan #Satan #Asmodeus #Beelzebub #Belphegor #Simeon #Solomon #Diavolo #n$fw #headcanons #mia's headcanons #Collaborations #Sweet GinnyGinny♥

[jackrrabbit]

Unprofessional [pt. 2] /// Yandere Tendou x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Bro can I request a super smutty yandere tendou x reader please there’s literally no content for him and I’m just a honry simp for him 😔 (also your writing is FANFUCKINGTASTIC I have read and reread all of your docs dude at least twice in conclusion you’re my favorite writing blog now)

A/N: Thank you omg I’m so honored, seriously I’m blushing?? Also I love Tendou too so ty for the request. Finished the second (and final) part one day late for his birthday  🎂🥳🎁🎊🎉

Summary: The new hire you’re supposed to be training at your office job is a little too attached for his own good…or yours. [Part 1]

Tags/warnings: yandere, timeskip (Tendou is 23), noncon, mildly inebriated sex, restraints/bondage, threats, Tendou is incapable of shutting up, liberal use of “senpai”

You look so cute like this, wrapped up like a pretty birthday present just for him. Tendou likes you so much it hurts.

Your breaths are intentionally steady, like you’re counting out the proper number of seconds on each inhale and exhale in an effort to appear calm. Your chest heaves lightly, and he’s got an almost-perfect view of it with your blouse unbuttoned and your bra pushed up over your tits. He’d prefer to have you completely topless, but with your hands tied behind your back with his belt, his options are limited.

Tendou’s already shimmied your sensible pencil skirt down over your thighs to expose your legs. You looked so sexy in just your open shirt and pantyhose, but he had to take the hose off for access. Besides, removing the sheer black fabric (slowly, so that it wouldn’t rip—he knows those things aren’t cheap) gave him the opportunity to feel up your legs. Panties came next, and now you’re on your back glaring up at him with your legs crossed and folded to hide your naked pussy.

It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Of course he took a few pictures.

The only issue is the gag. Tendou has his tie wound over your mouth to keep you quiet. It won’t do—he wants to see your face, after all—but he’s already got a fix, in the form of a little square of plastic he takes from his pocket.

He holds it up close enough that you can see it. “Do you know what this is?”

You don’t nod or anything, but you definitely recognize it—a condom.

“We’re going to have sex, senpai.” Tendou picks up on the little catch in your breath when he says the word ‘sex’, but he doesn’t think about it. “I don’t really care if I wear a condom, but I think you probably do. Is that right?”

You don’t respond.

“Senpaiii…don’t be stubborn. Nod yes for a condom, or else I’m not gonna wear one.”

You glare like you want to kill him, but you nod. Haha, how cute.

“Okay, good. I like when you do what I tell you. Now, I want to take the gag off, but I won’t do it if you’re going to be loud, you understand? It’s rude to bother your neighbors late at night. And…” He pauses. “Just to make sure you play nice, if you don’t listen to me I’ll take the condom off and cum inside. You don’t want that, do you?”

You shake your head frantically.

“Thought so.” Tendou’s pale, nimble fingers splay out over your inner thigh. “Then can you promise you’ll be nice?”

It takes you a long minute during which Tendou entertains himself petting the sweat-damp skin of your thigh, but you finally nod.

“Great!” Tendou grins and reaches down to untie the gag.

You take a minute to open and close your mouth, probably trying to stretch out the stiff muscles before you speak. Your voice is impassive and cool like you’ve been practicing what you’re going to say. “Tendou, you need to untie me. You’re very drunk and not in your right mind. Don’t do something you’re going to regret.”

Instead of listening to you, Tendou chooses to strip. Your composed mask slips for a second when he takes off his boxers to reveal his stiff, throbbing hard cock, already aching red and drizzling strands of precum onto his hand when he strokes it up and down. “Don’t worry baby, I sober up quick. I might be a lil tipsy but I’m not gonna have any trouble performing. Not for you.”

He crouches down to center you in between his arms, holding his head directly above yours. “And besides—“ you try to pull back away from his hot breath but your limited range of movement prevents you from getting anywhere— “I’m not going to regret this.”

Your lips are soft under his and you still taste fresh and sweet and minty from the toothpaste. You’re unresisting when his tongue prods into your mouth, but that’s not enough. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs, and you do. Maybe it’s just mindless—he’s sure you’ve kissed other people, as much as he’d like to pretend otherwise—but the movements of your lips and teeth and tongue against his feel almost eager.

“Ha…my first kiss with senpai,” Tendou says, pulling back and licking over his swollen lips. It would be nice to take his time with everything, but there’ll be more chances for that later. He loves the way your eyes trace him as he sticks his own fingers in his mouth to cover them with saliva.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but your question is answered when Tendou easily pulls your legs apart and settles himself between them so he can have easy access to slide his spit-soaked fingers up the length of your slit. “Tendou—Tendou, wait—“

He shushes you and continues to drag his middle finger all the way up from your entrance to your clit, letting the rough texture of his skin combine with your slick lubricant and give you just enough stimulation to make your hips twitch. “Mm, you like that? Gotta get you ready baby…not to brag, but I’m a little bigger than most guys. Wouldn’t want to—oh, easy, easy, relax—wouldn’t want to hurt you.“

You wince and then try to hold it back, school your expression so he won’t see the discomfort on your face when a single finger pushes into you. It’s not that painful, but the physical feeling isn’t nearly as bad as the fact that you don’t want any of this.

“How is that?” Tendou asks, slowly rocking his index finger in and out of your pussy, barely curling the tip to seek out your g-spot. You suppress the minuscule jerk of your core as best you can, but you can’t quite make it invisible and he feels it. “That good, huh?”

You want so badly to be angry. You are angry. If you could speak your mind right now, you’d tell him to go to hell. Yes, it feels good (and even admitting that to yourself makes you want to curl up and die), but it’s just hormones, stimulation, reaction. You can’t help it. But you’re not going to say that to him, not if you have the least chance of convincing him to stop before he goes any further. “It’s…fine. But, Tendou—“

“Knew you would like it. Oh—“ Another finger forces into your cunt. “—you’re tight, senpai. It’s been a while, yeah? You don’t have a boyfriend, I’d know if you did…and you’re not the type to do this casually. Too focused on your career.”

“I…mm…” What is he saying? Typical Tendou running his mouth even while you’re focused on him fucking you with those long fingers, prodding away at that spot—that fucking spot that is somehow, somehow—

—making you wet.

It’s not like some kind of precision activity. Tendou isn’t building you up or being subtle about it. There’s no teasing, no gentle touches, he’s just stroking that same spot over and over and the flat of his hand is mashing against your clit carelessly and it’s so stupid and so messy and there’s nothing kind or loving about it so why is it working?

“Feel that? Feel how wet you are?” Tendou has that same self-satisfied grin as he works his fingers in and out. “Poor senpai… You needed this, but you can’t ask for it yourself, I understand.”

“I don’t need anything…” you say, but you can’t expect him to believe you when your juices are slipping in and out of your hole along with his fingers, lubing him up to move even faster than before. When he started, you were so tense and tight that he could barely twist his fingertips up to pad at your g-spot, but now? Your walls are hot and sticky and supple, sucking him back in every time he pulls out.

He wants to make you cum, he does. And if he keeps going, it’s not going to be long, is it? But it’s your first time together… Tendou feels his cheeks getting hotter. First time with senpai, first time seeing you and touching you and having you totally, completely belong to him. The first time he makes you cum, it should be together.

If he’s not mistaken, you look almost disappointed when his fingers work their way out of your pussy, drawing away from you and wiping clean on the inside of your thigh. “You—You’re not…?” you question, trailing off when apparently you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.

“Don’t worry baby, plenty of time for that when I’m inside you.” Tendou walks his way up on the bed to leave a kiss on your forehead, so quick that you can’t cringe away when he does it.

You look off to the side, determined not to give him the satisfaction of eye contact—not to mention you hate looking at him, you hate seeing his stupid creepy face leering at you like you’re…you’re lovers or something. Like he’s not forcing you. But your attempt to maintain even that measly degree of avoidance shatters when you hear plastic crinkling. Ripping.

He’s opening the condom.

“Tendou—Tendou, wait! Listen!” You swallow and try to pull yourself back into your workplace persona, the mentor he respected and learned from, even if it was just an act. “Listen to me, please. You’re making a mistake. If we—if we stop now, we can forget about it...we can go back to normal, I promise. Do you hear me? I promise.”

“Normal isn’t enough anymore. Y’know what normal is for me? I’ve loved you for fifteen years. Wanted this for so long.” Tendou rolls the condom on and then hikes your ass upward so his cock is lined up with your slit. “Senpai, don’t you think you’ve had your way for long enough? It’s time…it’s time for me to get what I want.”

For the first time since he caught you and pinned you down on the floor of your living room, you struggle, really struggle for all you’re worth. The stiff leather of Tendou’s belt bites into your wrists and forearms as you try and get out of it, but the restraints hold firm—in fact, it feels like they’re getting tighter the more you move. Your hands are going numb from lack of blood flow, the prickles of pins and needles stinging into your skin, but you ignore it. You’re too worried about being heard to scream (and how twisted is it that you’re more scared of your neighbors than him?) but you jerk your leg up in an attempt to kick him away.

Tendou catches your foot before it can hit him. Easily. It’s like he sees everything you’re doing before you do it. “Hey, hey, stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Let me go, Tendou!” you hiss as loudly as you dare.

“Senpai…” His grip on your lower thigh tightens, a warning. “What did I say about being nice?”

You go limp. You don’t want to have sex with him, but you cannot—absolutely cannot—have him do it unprotected.

Tendou sighs as you relax in his grasp. “Good choice… Always so rational. But I want you to say it out loud, okay? Tell me you know what’s going to happen if you misbehave.”

Once again, you find yourself avoiding his gaze. How dare he say he loves you and then treat you like this. “…You’re going to take off the condom.”

“Yeah…” Once again, you feel the thick, stiff cock nudging against your inner thigh. He slides it up between your lips to slick it up. “And what am I going to do when I take it off?”

“You’ll…put it in raw. And…”

“And?”

“…c-cum inside.”

“And you don’t want me to do that. So behave, senpai.”

Tendou pushes into you in one deep stroke and you gasp. ‘A little bigger than most guys,’ he’d said. A little bigger? He’s a liar, again—he’s so big that you can already feel the thick head flush against your cervix, pressing there like he wants to go deeper. “T-Too deep, it’s too deep—“

“Shh, you just gotta get used to it…” Tendou leans down, folding your legs up into your chest so he can trap you between him and the mattress and speckle light kisses over your face. “You have to relax. I’ll be slow.”

The position is uncomfortable. He’s got your spine curled up off the bed and your thighs are burning from the stretch, but his skin bumps against your clit every time he makes the slightest movement. Once you’re steady, he pulls back a fraction and then thrusts back into you, barely moving, just enough that you can feel the pressure of his cockhead receding and then hitting back against your cervix. It’s slow, but it’s not slow enough—nothing is slow enough with how big he is.

Tendou kisses you again, pulling your head back to center so he can shove his tongue into your mouth just like he’s shoving his cock into your pussy. He’s not content to keep up the languid pace for long, though—as soon as you’re the tiniest bit relaxed, as soon as the barest muffled whimpers are forced out of your mouth, he’s lengthening his thrusts and slapping the entire length of his heavy cock back in and out of you.

You almost wish he would stop dragging it out. You don’t want to feel this, any of this, not him groaning into your mouth, not the weight of his body holding you down and spreading your thighs apart, and definitely not the dizzying friction of the head of his cock on your g-spot. You wouldn’t even be feeling it like this if he hadn’t prepared you and left you wanting.

You close your eyes and try to pretend that it’s someone else doing it to you, but it’s impossible. Tendou was right earlier, it’s been too long—there’s no one else in recent memory who you can picture in his place. Besides, it’s not like you’ve ever been fucked like this. Everything you can sense is screaming out that it’s him, him, him, from his whiny voice moaning out love confessions you don’t want to hear to the spicy-sweet cologne, the same one he wears around the office, now mixed with his sweat and so saturated you think you could choke on it.

You’re trying to imagine someone else’s cock driving your pussy open, anyone else—a boy you had a crush on in high school, the guy you’d lost your virginity to in college, even an actor you like—but it doesn’t work, because no matter who you try to pretend is fucking you you know it’s Tendou.

“Hey—senpai, look at me…” He’s patting your cheek, trying to get you to meet his gaze. “Open your eyes…look what I’m doing to you.”

“Don’t…don’t make me…” You shudder as he pushes all the way back in, bottoming out so he can grind his hips cruelly against your mound and provide untidy stimulation to your clit.

“Look.” Tendou’s voice is hard. He isn’t asking anymore.

With the threat from earlier hanging over your head, you don’t have a choice, do you? You open your eyes and look at him.

Tendou Satori. Even in the middle of drilling you, he’s beaming like you’re making him happy. There are twin pink patches high on his cheekbones under his eyes. He’s sweating—makes sense, he’s doing all the work. His lips are red and swollen from kissing you.

Tendou Satori, who brings you coffee at work even when you didn’t ask for it. Who misspells the same word 3 different ways every time he writes up a sales contract. Who said during his first interview that his greatest weakness is that he has a habit of going with his gut, and that his greatest strength is that his gut is usually right.

How is this the same person? No…no, that’s not what’s making you upset. It’s not that the Tendou fucking you is somehow so different from the one you thought you knew. It’s that he’s the same, the same man who never really listens when you say no, who never stops touching you when you say it bothers you. This is just the next thing. It makes sense.

“Senpai?” Tendou’s hips slow and he leaves his cock sitting thick and hard in your battered pussy. “Senpai? Are you…you’re crying?”

He’s blurry and your eyes sting and you want to wipe at them, but, well, your hands are tied. Literally. Tendou holds himself over you with one arm so the other can thumb over your wet eyes. “Don’t touch me,” you blubber out, knowing it won’t have any effect.

“Shh, shh, stop crying,” he says, sounding panicked. “Please stop crying. Please stop.”

Your silent weeping is interrupted by a whimper as he pulls out of you. You feel…something, maybe relief or maybe disappointment, but mostly you’re just overwhelmed. You’re slack as a puppet while he flips you over and carefully unbuckles the belt from your arms. The pins and needles return in full force once you’re unbound, discomforting to the point of pain as Tendou massages over the tender flesh with his own hands.

“Sorry…Looks like it was a little too tight.”

Once Tendou’s released you, you hold up an arm to examine yourself. There are red marks where the edges of the belt dug into your skin. Your hands are still prickly, still desensitized as you clumsily rub your eyes, but you just can’t seem to stop crying.

“Shh,” Tendou says over your shoulder from where he’s sitting behind you, and you’re so sick of hearing him shush you but you can’t bring yourself to respond. “I love you, senpai… Please don’t cry.”

The way he says it—so hurt, so caring, so desperate, makes your heart ache. You’d almost believe him…if he weren’t pushing you back down onto the bed, face first this time. You don’t have the energy to resist as he pulls your ass up to his hips. At least now you can bite down on the sheet to shut yourself up as he fills your aching cunt again.

This time, though, now that he’s fucking you like a dog, he’s got the space to reach down around your hips and stroke your clit. The shock of the contact is enough to scare the tears out of your eyes and you cry out.

Tendou takes your response as permission to do more, rubbing over your button with no regard for how delicate and sensitive you’re feeling. “Yeah, yeah, you like that… Senpai likes it when I touch her needy little pussy? Come on, let me hear you.”

“Tendou—mmph, Tendou, st—ahh…?” But you can’t really tell him to stop. You don’t want him to stop. If you’re going to have to get fucked like this, shouldn’t you at least get to get off? It’s only fair.

Fair. The thought crosses your mind and you almost laugh—maybe you would if the force of Tendou’s body weight wasn’t smothering your face into the pillows. Nothing about this is fair.

“Do you like it?” You can hear how excited he is. “Tell me—tell me you like it, senpai? Please. Please?”

With trembling arms, you raise your upper body off the bed just enough so that you can turn your head to the side and speak. “Keep touching me. Like that.”

He does, padding over your clit senselessly while his cock does its brutal work on your insides. You feel…fucking amazing, and Tendou’s so happy, so grateful to have your beautiful pure dirty body holding onto him, sucking him into your cunt and holding yourself around him like you’ll fall apart if he’s not inside you filling you up. Your pussy is incredibly responsive, clenching down in him in time with his fingers moving on your clit. God, he could cum right now…but you have to cum first, he has to make you cum, it has to be together.

He’s so glad you’re not crying anymore. You like it, he knows you do. He’s had you getting closer and closer for a while now, and all the ups and downs and stopping you before you can cum are definitely making you need it even more.

You’re getting louder. You probably don’t even realize it, but you are. Tendou wishes he had something recording.

“I’m—fuck, I’m…c-cu…” Telling him is reflexive, a gesture of courtesy you’re used to from previous partners. He doesn’t deserve it, but you give it to him anyway.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Tendou coos. His touches grow even rougher somehow, abusing your clit while he nudges himself out so he can slide his cock back and forth over your g-spot. The aggressive rhythm of the stimulation has your spine arching up and he pushes you back down to keep you in place. “Stay down…let me do it for you.”

“Tendou!” you cry out, and he feels it, feels you cum, feels your whole body wracked with tremors, feels the walls of your cunt squeeze his cock like you’re trying to hold him inside. Fuck. Fuck. It’s too good, your pussy is so tight and warm and drenched in your juices, he can’t think, he wants it, wants to cum, wants to cum with you, together, together, together.

Tendou’s hand leaves your clit just in time to grip your ass and slam himself back into you, holding you impaled on his cock while both of you shudder through your post-orgasm aftershocks. “Senpai…senpai. I love you,” he gasps, and cums, hips jerking against yours as his mind goes blank for a second.

Fuck, it feels good, feels like his eyes are rolling back in his head.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Tendou…” It’s all you can say. You can feel him getting softer inside you, and he pulls out to take off the condom. Once he’s gotten rid of it, you let him flip you onto your side and lie next to you on the bed.

“How was that, senpai?” Tendou asks, kissing you slowly. He cuddles up to you, pulling your back into his chest so your bodies are fitted together like puzzle pieces. His heart is pounding like a rabbit’s—you’d think it was cute if not for…everything.

You’re quiet.

“I know you liked it.” Another kiss, this time on the back of your neck. “You needed it just as much as I did. And I know you won’t want to admit it at first, right? You’ve got your professional reputation to maintain, I get it. But don’t worry—“

You wish he would shut up. You wish he would leave you alone. You wish he wasn’t holding you so close that you can feel his cock against your ass, and you wish—you wish you couldn’t feel him getting hard, again.

“—this was just our first time. And there’s gonna be lots more. You and me? We’re going to be together forever, senpai.”

#Tendou Satori x reader #Tendou Satori #Tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #Tendo Satori x reader #Tendo Satori #Tendo x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere Tendou Satori x reader #yandere Tendou Satori #yandere Tendo Satori x reader #yandere Tendo Satori #smut #tw noncon

[lydias--stiles]

the smile you gave me (it’s magic)

juke | meet-cute au | tw: alcohol + annoying men in bars | written for @alexjulies as we have the same headcanons about luke

What Julie Molina was about to do was horribly unfeminist and Flynn would hate her forever, but really, it was all the man’s fault - as usual.

She rejected his advances three times now in the last hour. The bartender gave her a drink on the man’s tab and she sent it back, the man brought it himself (introduced himself as Levi) and she politely declined once more. The third time he asked her to dance and then she fled to the bathroom. Julie wasn’t the biggest partygoer, occasionally joining Flynn for happy hour - like today. Her friend was late however, due to an emergency meeting at a magazine she worked at and Julie had to endure the bar alone. Grave mistake. She should’ve just waited at a McDonalds or something; even if she’d look out of place in her cocktail dress.

im there in 15!! hang in there <3 <3

Julie groaned. Great. Fifteen more minutes in a smelly bathroom stall as women outside were drunkenly crying in front of the mirrors and babbled about their own grievances regarding men. For such a universal problem, she had hoped all men would’ve taken the hint by now.

No, she didn’t want to dance. No, she didn’t want a drink. No, she wouldn’t give her number to someone that kept pushing and coming into her personal space. Levi could fuck off. It was bad enough how he had given her a suggestive once-over like he was deciding whether he wanted brunette or blonde tonight.  

The reminder angered her, pushed her out of the stall with a scowl. Was she really going to let a dumb man (nay: boy) ruin her night before it even started? Her songwriting session with Hayley Williams had gone really well and she deserved to celebrate that! She deserved to end her day on a high note! A quick look in the mirror to assure her make-up hadn’t smudged, she marched out the bathroom back into the dimly lit bar.

Her eyes scanned the room, relieved to not catch Levi close-by. Did he give up and leave? Was he cornering another girl? Whatever. As long as he wasn’t bothering her, she’d be able to breathe and maybe forget about the altercation.

If he did bother her again, she’d use her privilege as a girl and yell at the top of her lungs that he was harassing her. Surely then security would kick him out, right?

Over by the bartop was clamour, two men pulling each other into a laughing embrace as one hauled their backpack over their shoulder as the other dropped it. Changing shifts, Julie noted, halting on the man that had arrived. Well then. The theory that bars only hired attractive people seemed to be correct, the guy straight from a CW show. Mussed up brown hair, sharp features, big eyes, cute smile. A ten out of ten.  

He shrugged his red shacket off, fully black outfit beneath and began washing off discarded glasses. His muscular arms made her throat dry up; he wasn’t attractive, he was hot.

(Oh God. Was she just as bad as Levi, gawking over a stranger? But wasn’t part of his job that girls were supposed to gawk over him? More tips and all that? Julie decided she shouldn’t feel too guilty.)

Her feet moved on their own accord towards the bar, sliding into a leather high stool and wondering what she’d order as she waited for any of the bartenders (him?) to approach her.

Luck was on her side, the new bartender pressing his hands into the counter, brows raised expectantly. “What can I get you?”

Her lips tutted, debating between a margarita and a strawberry mojito. Both were appealing and at a marginally low price. “What’s better?”, she asked. “Margarita or mojito? Honestly.”

He grinned. “Honestly?”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms atop the counter, a brush away from his hands. “I’ve bartended before. I know you have to lie a little.”

His muscle tee shifted around as he chuckled, slivers of tattoos peeking through on his chest. Her eyes averted, hoping she was a bit more subtle than she felt, and kept them trained on the stacks of whiskey in the glass rack.

His fingers drummed on the wood. “The mojito, then.” Leaning in as if imparting a secret, he added: “We’ve been buying the cheaper tequila. Gotta pay those bills.”

Satisfied at his reply, she gave him a pleased nod. “Okay. A mojito, please.”

He pushed himself off with a click of the tongue, as if he auctioned her something, and turned to grab the ingredients. As he poured the rum into a tall glass, he fell into casual conversation she was all too familiar with.

“You here alone?”

“Waiting on a friend.” Eager to distract herself from the reason why she waiting, and what caused her to wait in a fucking bathroom, she asked: “What’s the tattoo?”

The bartender paused for a beat, as if momentarily forgetting he was inked up, and then tugged his shirt out the way to showcase more skin. Had she not been so curious, she’d focus on the fact that he was defined as hell. The tattoo was a detailed sun with an ocean wave drawn inside. More uncovered: a play and pause button, ‘now or never’, a stick and poke tattoo of a lightning bolt. It was as if she herself doodled onto her skin and then left it there, but it somehow worked. It was personal. Maybe she was also a bit intrigued since he seemed especially interested by music. Granted, it was LA. Everyone was some type of artist with varying degrees of success. Still - she was curious.

“They’re cool,” she complimented, him going back to making her drink with an appreciative grin.

“Thanks.”

“Was the lightning bolt a drunk decision?”, she teased. The only instance someone got a stick and poke tattoo was when they felt chaotic or impulsive.

His grin widened, throwing crushed ice in the glass. “That obvious? Yeah, me and my boys all got one. This whole idea of-” He waved his hands around, trying to find the right words. “-bonding us together for life, I guess.”

Warmth thudded in her chest at his story, endeared by the way his voice became lighter when he talked about his friends. They must be like brothers to him.

As he placed the completed drink in front of her, she contemplated her answer. She’d rather keep talking to him than wait for Flynn in silence. “That’s nice. Having friends like that, it’s special.” Twisting her wrist, she showed her own tattoo. “I got this one when I turned eighteen.”      

They were two, small butterflies dancing on the inside of her forearm. When her mother passed away, she always knew she’d get something to commemorate her. Doodles of butterflies marked her skin in high school, finally becoming permanent when she was allowed to. Knowing everyone inevitably asked about the why, she continued talking.  

“It’s, you know, it’s about metamorphosis and beauty and transcendence and I just-” She caught herself before blabbing her sob story to a stranger. With a chuckle, she muttered: “It’s a reminder that change is good.”

When Julie looked up at him, she was struck by the wonder on his face. He didn’t look as confident as he did before, probably taken aback by her sudden spiritual spiel about butterflies - or by her, in general. The thought let a quiet thrill course through her.  

He snapped out of it, a smirk falling on his lips as his nail chimed against the glass. “It’s on me.”

“Is that a move?” Her head tilted, amused.

“You want me to lie or be honest?” The man leaned across the counter again, much closer this time. “Cool tattoo, by the way.”

She laughed, biting back a silly grin from blooming. This was his job, she reminded herself. Act all cute and get her to buy more drinks so that eventually, her tab would be enormous. It was like winning once at a game of poker and then becoming cocky.

Coy, she ripped her gaze from his and sipped on her drink. She’d let him simmer for a bit.

That was when it happened. Her unfeminist deed that would make Gloria Steinem shudder. Levi, the devil reincarnated, shot her a smug look from the other side of the bar. Swerving past people to the beat of the music, he tried approaching her again.

Julie groaned behind her glass, her good mood instantly shattered once more. Why couldn’t this idiot take a fucking hint?!

“Damn,” bartender mused, “I thought my mojito skills were good.”

The brash words tumbled out at a rapid pace, her need for a solution trumping her pride. “There’s a guy coming onto me right now and you need to help me ward him off. Please.”

He grimaced. “Yeesh. Ex-boyfriend?”

“Worse,” she bit. “A fool.”

A stressed smile pinned itself on her cheeks as Levi sidled beside her, one arm bracketing her left. Her back tensed as she shot a quick, pleading look at the bartender. He zeroed in on Levi, mouth curled downwards.    

“There you are,” Levi grinned. “Thought you left.”

Julie didn’t entertain him anymore. “I’ve told you. I’m not interested.”

He dismissed her. “I see you got yourself a drink? What is it?”

“I’m not interested,” she snapped, eyes flickering once more to the bartender. Was he really not going to help her?

It spurred him into action, his arm reaching over to create a barrier between Levi and her. “Dude, you heard her. Back off.”

Levi snarled. “Can you not? This is between me and her.”

“No, actually,” he exclaimed, blunt. “I’m her boyfriend.”

Her vigilance got her acting swiftly, shifting her expression into a believable nod and placing a hand on his outstretched arm.  

“He is?” Levi was gobsmacked, a hint of anger lacing his voice.

“Yeah,” Julie bit, silently thanking him when he played along and enveloped her hand with his. Her final strike spit his venom right back in his face. “So can you just leave us alone?”

The man rolled his eyes with a scoff, kicking one of the stools and mumbling a string of curses. “Bullshit…”

When he was out of sight again, having stormed off like a petulant child to a shadowy corner, Julie let out breath of relief. “Finally!” Shooting the bartender a bright smile, she kept babbling. “You have no idea how annoying that is. And smart idea - the boyfriend card always works!”

He squeezed her hand, worried. “You sure you’re okay? That was fucked up.”

“Yeah…” She trailed off, the soft touch reminding her of his words from before. Squeezing back, she watched as the pinch between his brows vanished. “I’m okay.”

They kept their stare for a beat, the revolving pop music and excited chatter merely background noise. Neither have let go of their hold on each other. She didn’t want to either; his hand was warm and gentle and a calloused thumb absentmindedly caressed her skin. Levi should learn from this.

Sometimes, a connection just happened.

He let go first, collecting himself into a casual stance that was far more amusing than it should be. Ducking beneath the bar and grabbing a beer, he tapped it against her glass with a cocky nod. “My name’s Luke.”

Julie matched his expression. Luke. Luke, the bartender. It fit him perfectly. “I’m Julie. Are you supposed to be drinking on the clock?”

“I work in a bar,” Luke deadpanned. “It’s expected. And I’m sure Jack can handle it.”

“Why would he have to serve alone?” she inquired teasingly, eyes glimmering with challenge. If there was one thing she loved, it was getting the upper hand in a fun game of flirting.  

He lifted his bottle with a wink. “I’m drinking with you.” A pause, his gaze matching her intensity. Damn. He was a good opponent. “Unless you want me to go?”

She shook her head, took a sip from the mojito and wiggled her brows. “Cheers to warding off annoying men, fake boyfriend.”

“I better get some good karma from this,” he joked. “Cheers!”

(Later that night, she’d realise Flynn never came by. When she asked what happened, Flynn told her she had walked in and saw Julie completely wrapped up in a conversation ‘with that cute bartender’ and left. The joyous announcement that Julie got his number made her friend screech over the phone.

Julie went back to the bar many times. Drinking and talking bled until deep in the night, once till closing time and then he walked her to her apartment. He didn’t resist when she kissed him, his lips kissing back with hunger.

It didn’t take long for the ‘fake’ to be scrapped from that label.)  

🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @ourstarscollided

#as an apology for last night's angst #here's something lighter lmao #juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better

[ao3theskyisblue]

In the light of twilight

Summary:

"How long are you planning on sitting miles away from me?"

"I'm only a few feet away from you. Miles may be overstating it, babe."

A 2x08 coda because I still haven’t recovered from last night

Read on ao3

“How long are you planning on sitting miles away from me?”

Carlos had stood up to hug Gwyn and Owen just before they reluctantly left to catch her flight back to New York, exchanging words of reassurance and a promise to get together again soon. He stood back to watch as Gwyn leaned down to kiss TK’s temple softly, Owen giving his son’s hand a squeeze.

“Take care of him.” Carlos couldn’t help straightening his back at those words, nodding at Owen in response.

“Of course, sir.”

He caught a fond eye-roll at that, and even Gwyn seemed to be holding back an amused grin, but the two had left the room soon after that. Which left him to head back to his spot on the uncomfortable hospital chairs, hands clasped before him as his mind raced again with the endless possibilities that could have happened tonight. He didn’t know how long he had sat there, thoughts a blurred haze, until TK had broken the silence.

Looking up, Carlos felt his breath catch at the tender warmth in TK’s gaze as he looked at him, quiet understanding lighting up his features.

“I’m only a few feet away from you. Miles may be overstating it, babe.” Carlos resorted to a tactic he thought he had under his belt, using humour to deflect. He could tell TK wasn’t fooled in the slightest, judging by the short huff of breath at that, before he was lifting a tired hand towards him.

“Still too far.” TK was definitely pouting now, but Carlos still caught the minuscule wince at the action, the movement definitely reminding the man of his injuries that would take a while to heal.

In all honestly, he didn’t know why he was hesitant to get any closer.

Back when they had finally found them, when he saw TK staggering against a table with a bloody bandage on his head, his feet had moved on autopilot, bringing him straight to his boyfriend’s side in a matter of seconds. There was an overwhelming urge, a need, to know that he was okay, that he wasn’t too late.

That trusting his gut had been right.

The overwhelming emotions that had his eyes clouding with unshed tears as he held TK in his arms then were unparalleled, and he knew that there was no place he would have rather been than right there. Everything after that had been a blur - his father arriving at the scene, their tentative conversation, a residual reminder of a family lunch date he had yet to inform TK about.

He had been so close to losing a part of himself today. Looking at TK who was still watching him patiently from the hospital bed, he felt as if the universe might tell him that this was all an illusion, that he had failed to protect the one thing he’s always vowed to protect, that everything he had worked for would disappear right before his very eyes.

“Carlos.”

Biting the inside of his cheek to stop the onslaught of emotions that hit him all at once at the sound of his own name, Carlos got up slowly and took a stumbling step towards the hand that had not stopped reaching for him.

“I’m here, and I’m okay.” TK whispered, and Carlos closed the distance between them, latching onto the offered hand like a lifeline, leaning down to pull TK into a tight hug, though still mindful of his injuries. Pressing a gentle kiss to TK’s hairline, right above the bulge of bandages, he closed his eyes and didn’t fight the tears that slowly slipped down his cheeks.  

“How are you feeling?” TK murmured, and Carlos laughed wetly as he pulled back slightly to wipe away the wet stains on his face. Gentle hands replaced his own, and Carlos gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, lifting a hand to cover TK’s that were still delicately wiping his tears away.

“How am I feeling? You were the one that had a rough day.” Carlos shook his head, and TK immediately made a noise of protest.

“You haven’t had the greatest day either. How – are you still suspended?” TK asked tentatively, eyes searching his, and Carlos smiled.

“Still pending investigation. But I think that after these recent events, I’ll be back to work in a few days.” Carlos felt his heart stutter in his chest at TK’s brilliant smile at that, his eyes shining proudly.

“I’m so proud of you.” TK murmured, and Carlos leaned into the hand still cupping his face, turning to kiss the palm of it. Sighing lightly, Carlos reached for the hand TK had dropped down on the hospital bed, the warmth emanating through him soothingly as the latter immediately intertwined their fingers.

“I was so close to playing it by the book.” Carlos admitted quietly, dropping his gaze to the dull blue hospital linens, having a sudden urge to pick at them but TK only tightened his grip on his hand. “It hit a nerve, I guess, when my father told me my instincts may have been wrong. I kept on thinking if I didn’t let that man go today, if things would have gone differently.”

He didn’t look up, and he knew that TK would wait until he was ready. His boyfriend was surprisingly patient in times like these, and it was a source of comfort Carlos could always trust in.

“If you had arrested him, you would have – “ TK’s voice cracked at the end, but swallowed it down and continued, “you would have died. You, your partner, and whoever was nearby. You would have all died.”

Carlos hadn’t visited that part of what could have happened thoroughly yet. Certainly, he wouldn’t be here if he had played by the book earlier today, and who knows what would have happened after. The bank robbers would still be free, they would have just hired someone else to do the job, and the world would have moved forward.

Without him in it.

It was definitely something that he should probably talk about, and he will.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that now. But then? All I knew was that I could have made a terrible mistake just from trusting my instincts, and I – I started to doubt myself.” Carlos admitted quietly and TK must hear the resignation in his tone.

“Carlos…”

“But I didn’t.” Carlos continued, looking up now, and he didn’t know what his eyes were portraying but it had TK’s widen slightly. “I didn’t play by the book. I chose to follow my gut and I’m – I don’t regret it. I would do it a thousand times over. Your father was right, our guts are what we take out there in the field, and I should trust it.” Carlos could see TK starting to smile, and it was impossible not to smile back.

“He also said we should have a heart behind our shield.”

TK’s smile widened, and his eyes were filling with emotion the longer they stared at each other. Carlos tilted his head slightly when TK pressed a hand to his heart, patting the spot gently.

“And you have a damn good one.” TK whispered fondly. Carlos let out a wet chuckle, taking the hand that was pressed to his heart to kiss his knuckles. He let his lips rest there, a physical reminder of what he could have lost today creeping in on him, before leaning his forehead against the warm hand, smiling helplessly.

“What?” TK tilted his head adoringly, and Carlos looked up to meet his gaze.

“I just really love you.”

He falls in love all over again at the elated smile that lights up TK’s face every time he says that, endeared by the shy edges to it as if he could never grow tired of hearing it.

“I love you too.”

Carlos took that moment to scoot just a little closer, lifting an arm to wrap around TK’s mid-section to lean in further. He was completely content in just staying like this until the doctors approved of TK’s discharge, but they hadn’t been staring at each other very long when TK’s brows furrowed slightly. Carlos was immediately on alert.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry I missed dinner.” TK lamented, looking like he was almost a little frustrated at himself and Carlos raised an eyebrow.

“You were kidnapped, pistol-whipped, and almost shot. I think that gives you a free pass, babe.” Carlos teased, chuckling quietly as TK groaned, shooting him an amused glare.

“You do know that your glares don’t work on me? I’ve since built an immunity to them, and all they do is make you look more adorable than you already are.” Carlos smirked, not even dodging the light hit TK landed on his shoulder.

“Don’t talk to me as if I don’t know what I look like. My head’s practically a bloated marshmallow.” TK said pointedly, but Carlos wasn’t deterred.

“So, soft and cute?”

TK shot him an unimpressed glare, looking like he wanted to roll his eyes but remembered how much his head wound had protested at that the last time he tried and held back.

“Only you can find me cute lying in a hospital bed like this.”

“You’re always cute, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.” Carlos reminded, eyebrows lifting as if challenging him to continue and TK merely shook his head slightly, an exasperated smile on his lips.

“You really need to stop being so sappy right in front of my concussion.”

“Never.”

Leaning in, Carlos pressed a light kiss to TK’s lips, grinning when he tried to chase him as he pulled back, the lips he had just been kissing already forming a light pout.

“I go missing for hours and you won’t even give me kisses?” Carlos snorted at that, narrowing his eyes at the playful glint in TK’s gaze.

“Playing the kidnapping card? Really Strand?”

“Gotta keep you entertained somehow in spite of everything.”

Carlos smiled, leaning down to gently kiss the corner of TK’s lips, much to his weak protest.

“Not in spite of.”

TK frowned, a questioning look in his eyes as Carlos reached up to delicately run his fingers through TK’s hair. Looking into the green eyes that caught him heart and soul ever since their first meeting in the rain, Carlos felt his body fill with warmth.  

“I’m here, and I love you because.”

~.~

“You didn’t eat the pasta.”

Carlos locked the front door and turned to see that TK was staring at the dinner layout spread before him. He vaguely remembered being in such a frenzied rush to the Strand house that all he remembered was to blow out the candles, leaving everything else exactly where they were before he had sped out the door.

“You didn’t come home. I would never have started without you.” Carlos frowned. The very thought of eating without TK felt wrong in every aspect, and toed off his shoes, placing them neatly beside TK’s by the entranceway before padding over.

The pasta had gone cold, the sauce looking a little hardened against the spaghetti noodles. The salad was looking a little dry as the dressing no doubt seeped into the vegetable leaves and sinking to the bottom of the bowl.

“Well, let’s eat it now!”

At TK’s sudden exclamation, Carlos blinked rapidly, looking down at the slightly worse-for-wear food laid out before them to TK and back again.

“Now?” Carlos knew he sounded incredulous, which was only further emphasized by TK’s affirmative nod. “Ty, it’s – “ Briefly glancing at the clock, he continued, “four am in the morning.”

“And?”

Carlos couldn’t help a surprised laugh, his boyfriend’s eagerness to eat the food he had spent a better part of his day cooking slowly rubbing off on him. TK was already padding forward slowly towards the setup, no doubt wanting to heat it up, but Carlos laid a gentle hand on his arm, guiding him towards the couch instead.

“I’m pretty sure your mom already fed you a year’s worth of Matzo ball soup. How are you still hungry?” Carlos mused, his lips twitching in amusement when TK groaned when he realized he was not-so-subtly arranged on the couch comfortably.

“I know for a fact that you haven’t eaten much. If at all.” TK looked at him pointedly, and Carlos couldn’t exactly deny that. He had grabbed a coffee, maybe had a few bites himself of the soup that Gwyn had almost force-fed him too and that had been it.

Hunger had been the last thing on his mind, and in truth, he honestly hadn’t really felt it.

“Spaghetti at twilight. How romantic.” Carlos mused, pushing off the couch to head to the kitchen when a hand caught his wrist.

“I love your cooking.”

Carlos looked down at TK who was staring up at him, a sudden serious look on his face that had him falter in his steps.

“You know that, right?” TK asked, looking a little worried now, and Carlos immediately nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. You’ve never shied away from telling me, and the noises you make sometimes should be illegal.” Carlos loved how he could always make TK smile, and the soft smile that the man propped up on the couch was currently donning had his stomach flip pleasantly.

“Your cooking brings me comfort. You bring me comfort.” TK bit his lip, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in that tell-tale manner of when he was trying to find his words. Carlos, frankly, has forgotten every single word he has ever learned in life when he realized what TK was implying.

“I will always want to eat your cooking. It’s – it’s comfort, it’s home.”

The hug was sudden, and he hadn’t even realized he had moved until he realized one moment he was standing, the next he was crouching next to the couch with TK in his arms. He felt lips gently press a kiss to the crook of his neck, and Carlos absently wondered how his life had suddenly turned a meaningful 180 with just one fateful meeting.

“You’re my comfort too.” Carlos whispered, squeezing TK a little tighter, smiling shakily when the latter didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. “When I think of home, you’re the first and last person that appears in my mind.”

TK let out a shiver at that, and Carlos pulled back slowly to run his thumbs along TK’s cheeks, the softness of the skin making his heart ache. And when TK reached up to grasp his wrists carefully, he couldn’t help but lean forward for a gentle press of their lips.

“But your cooking still has my vote pending.” Carlos let out a smirk before stepping out of their hold on each other to actually head to the kitchen, grinning when he hears a sound of offended disbelief from the living room.

“Rude!”

As he heats up their intended dinner, Carlos glances back at the couch where TK was still glaring at the pillow in his lap, muttering something under his breath. Shaking his head in fond amusement, he was about to re-toss the salad when TK’s phone that he had forgotten on the kitchen counter lit up with a call from an unknown number.

“TK! Your phone’s ringing, do you mind if I pick up?” Carlos called, and TK made a sound of affirmation. Picking up the device, Carlos pressed on the green ‘accept call’ button before lifting it to his ear.

“Hello?”

 The steady rhythm of raindrops falling suddenly sounded louder than anything in the world, the gray haze permeating through his thoughts as the onslaught of words slowly pieced together in his head.  

His grip on the phone slipped, eyes widening when the voice on the phone relayed news that he had never prepared to imagine, a call he had never been prepared to receive.

He could hear TK calling his name in concern and looked up to see a pair of worried green eyes fixated on him.

Swallowing thickly, Carlos let out a shuddering breath.

“Something’s happened to Judd and Grace.”

#Tarlos #Tarlos fic #911 ls 2x08 coda #They just really love each other #So they're super soft in this

[ageofevermore]

Golden

summary → in which Harry doesn’t understand how he can possibly love such a small baby so painfully much. 

word count → 1.7k

note → this might require a few deep breaths because oh lord, i really laid the fluff down thick. 

add yourself to my taglist

When you and Harry had fallen pregnant it was unexpected. You had been talking about starting a family in the near future, but hadn't felt the need to fall in deep. You were aware of the problems you might face with natural conception, especially due to the stress of being employed by the entertainment industry, but just three days after your conversation, the both of you had gotten carried away in a moment of beautiful love.

You had been on birth control ever since your seventeenth birthday when your mother figured you might begin to explore your sexual desires. It was something she was quite open about, making it easier to tell her that you were seeing a green eyed wonder called, Harry.

It was just after a morning run through LA that you took a test. It was some cheap brand, an impulse buy after laying in bed worrying about your lack of protection weeks prior. You had been paranoid for days, your cycle abnormally long and lacking the usual symptoms of tension and muscle aches. Instead, you had full fledges cramps and headaches.

When the first test came back positive you almost fainted on the floor of your en-suite. Harry was just downstairs and heard the unusual commotion. You were usually light on your feet, a classically trained ballet dancer as a child. It was worrisome to find you doubled over on your hands and knees beside the tipped over nightstand. Harry had immediately rushed to your aid, collecting your frame in his hands and pressing soft kissing to your forehead until he could get your attention. Your eyes were dazed, hands balling into the fabric of his thick black jumper. You were completely beside yourself with joy.  

"What's a'matter, moppet?" He mumbled against your forehead, pulling your legs over his lap so her could bring you closer. He softly pried your hands away from his jumper, kissing your clenched knuckles fervently. "Scaring me, love. What's got you so worked up?"

The thought of the positive pregnancy test in your palm brought on a new wave of tears. The tip of your nose trembled as you broke into a wide grin, breaking down completely into Harry's chest with gleefully shocked giggled. Harry didn't waste a minute, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you closer to his chest. Your legs wrapped around him like a koala, but it only made this moment sweater for you. For now, you were the only one that knew about the growing baby making a home for itself inside of you. For years you had overlooked how special this moment would be.

"Pet." Harry cooed, bringing his fingers down your spine. The metal of his rings was cold when he lifted your shirt and tickled your back with scratches. "Gotta tell me what's got you so giddy."

Uncoordinatedly you smashed your lips against Harry's. Your teeth knocked against his harshly, but all you could manage was a smile that left his lips wet, "We're parents." Your whispered.

-

The end of your pregnancy was brutal, complete with unbearable braxton hicks and obscene swelling. You had been riddled with insomnia for weeks as well, and the throbbing in your fingers was brought on by the wedding band stuck between your knuckles that even elevation and heating pads couldn't help. Harry had done his absolute best to make you comfortable, but even his hour long foot rubs and 3am snack runs did little for you. None of that was relevant now, nor was the stitching holding your torn vagina together. Your baby, sweet Indie Anne Styles, was here. She was perfect, and she was finally before your eyes.

Her warm pink body was flush against your chest. Harry stood off to the side, tears blurring his vision as he took in the picture before him. His first true love was embracing their own little mini. He had no doubts that his little Indie was a product of the truest breed of young love. Indie, Harry wasn't so sure the big name fit her little body and button nose.

"Look at her, lovie." You sniffled, running your finger down her cheek. She had finally stopped wailing, settling into your warmth and letting herself fall asleep in your embrace. You were certain birth was tiring for babies, glad to see that your little love was resting up now and getting ready to experience the life you and Harry had shaped just for her. "She's perfect."

"Knew she would be, love." Harry came closer to the both of you, bending down to press a kiss to your sticky forehead. He loosely grabbed the newborns hand, chocking on a sob when she gripped his thumb. Her grip was tight for such a tiny human, and already Harry was sure he wouldn't be able to live every day with a heart so heavy with love.

Your husband was barely keeping himself together over your shoulder as he admired your daughter. You had gently coaxed a pacifier between her lips after watching her squirm, and the soft pink plastic only brought Harry a new wave of overwhelming love and protection. He never wanted anything to hurt his littlest love, his precious baby Indie.

"Thank you, pet." He cried into your crown, pressing gentle kissed to your hair and face at an uncomfortable angle. He didn't want to hurt you, but he needed to thank you for this moment. It was everything he had always dreamed of and so much more, "Thank you for her. Thank you."

-

It had taken Harry three weeks to call Indie her name, having a habit of referring to the newborn as 'his little angel'. You didn't mind the title, but hearing her name on the tip of his tongue made you weak. He had taken great to becoming a father, like you knew he would. You had never had any doubts about just how unconditionally Harry would love your little human. He was up with you during every feed, changing all the diapers until you were healed enough to bare standing at the change table for long stretches.

He bought only the best for his Indie too. Her nighttime routine was prepped with high end vegan moisturizers and ointments. Her diapers were made of organic, non toxic, vegan materials. He didn't care for prices, only quality. Harry was as relatively humble man. He never talked about wealth or thought it as anything valuable, but he also, despite what it seems, didn't splurge on high end products often. He had his limits and boundaries, but his money was used wisely and not thrown away on material. He refused to let Indie soak in a cheap diaper though, even when you assured him that most diapers were exceptionally made and there was no need to spend a few hundred dollars every month.

It didn't take long for Indie to form more defined features, one being her insanely bright blue eyes and thin strands of soft blonde hair. You weren't quite sure where your baby girl came from to be honest, seeing as your eyes weren't near the same shade of color as hers nor were Harry's. Her hair was ungodly as well. Almost like your favorite disney film, her locks were strikingly golden. It had only taken a month before you caught Harry above her crib, whispering a fond, "Good morning, golden girl."

Golden had been her name since that dewy spring morning. You couldn't see her as anything but, adoring the nickname Harry had brought upon the three of you. It was odd when you had family visiting and they would refer to your precious Golden as Indie.

It was just after two am when the shrill screams of your infant severed the sleep you and Harry were catching up on. His arm was thrown around your waist, and for a minute neither one of you moved. She was going through a growth spurt meaning the usually laid back baby you shared a house with was needy and desperate for her fathers attention and your satin milk. It was hard to give her what she wanted at times. You knew she was hungry, but she didn't want to leave Harry's arms.

That had happened just the other day. With the luck you were working on, you had forgotten to pack away another pre-made bottle. She was eating so frequently you hadn't had the need to pump, but that decision came back to bite you when she woke up from her nap hungry and only wanting her daddy. You both had eventually figured out a way to please her, but it had been frustrating and stressful on the three of you alike. It was safe to say you were always on top of bottles now.

When Harry finally did pull away from your warmth, he kissed your temple before feeling the room, not before you heard the last of his mutter, "I'm coming, Goldie."

You were sure your heart exploded in that moment. When you saw him again, this time with a squirmy baby impatiently suckling on the nipple of a pacifier, tears were gathering in your eyes. You smiled widely down at your little love, affectionately stroking her cheek. You settle her against your chest, wincing when she latches, but relaxing when her sucks become rhythmic and predictable.

In the darkness Harry couldn't make out your teary smile, instead just moving around the master and preparing another diaper for Goldie, having felt the wet one when he picked her up from the crib moments ago. He could hear you praising the baby for doing such a good job, promising that it was okay if she woke up every thirty minutes, but what caught him off guard was when you brushed your thumb over her cheek and whispered, "Look just as pretty as your Daddy, Goldie."

"Y'heard that, huh?" He stuttered. He knew you weren't too fond of the first few nicknames he had given Goldie, and he was almost fearful that you would reject his shortened version of Golden.

You rolled your eyes softly at his question, patting a patterned on your baby girl's diapered bottom as she nursed with sleepy eyes. "I think it's cute, fits her."

Harry smiled widely at the pair of you, the dim moonlight capturing the perfect moment in his memory. His love for you and Goldie somehow got deeper every day. He never wanted to leave this stripped down midnight moment. This perfectly golden moment.

#dad!harry #Harry Styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #fine line #fine line series #goldie styles #husband!harry #boyfriend!harry #best friend!harry

[writing-wrxngs]

Overnight Babysitting

(Heyo! Been a minute! I’m juggling like a shit ton of one shots along with the long form fic I’m desperately trying not to abandon so that’s why I disappear sometimes. Also being back with my parents is Not Fun so my vibes have been completely off for weeks. I do have something for you though! It’s fuckin massive too, it took forever lmao)

Phil turned to Techno and Wilbur one last time as he put on his coat to go. “And you’re sure you’ve got this?”

Techno nodded. “We’re sure.”

“Positive? I’m going to be gone all night.”

“We’ve got this!” Wilbur said, full of self assurance. “It’s not going to be much different than any of the other times we’ve watched Tommy.”

“Well yeah,” Phil agreed, “but it’s still a long time. I didn’t expect you boys to be alone this long ‘til you were older. This was unexpected.”

Wilbur scoffed. “We’re plenty old! Me and Techno are teenagers now!”

“Right, right. No matter what, I have to go so I suppose I have to trust you two,” said Phil. “You know everything you need to do?”

“Yeah,” said Techno. “We’ve got leftovers for dinner, keep Tommy entertained for a bit, make sure he gets ready for bed, put him to bed and get ourselves to bed.”

“And what does getting Tommy ready for bed entail?”

“Run him a bath, for one,” cut in Wilbur before Techno could answer. “Get him some clean pajamas and make sure he brushes his hair and teeth, then it’s bedtime.”

They actually remembered. Phil had been drilling that into both of the boys all day as soon as he found out he would have to leave, but he was worried they weren’t actually listening. It was quite reassuring really. By all means, leaving two thirteen year olds in charge of a child overnight was unwise, but it was necessary. Techno and Wilbur were capable boys. And clearly, knew what they had to do. Phil smiled proudly. “Alright, I actually think you two can do it now. I have to be going now,” he said. He called Tommy over and picked the boy up to give him a hug goodbye. “You be good for your brothers while I’m gone,” he said.

“I will!” said Tommy.

Both Techno and Wilbur knew that was a lie. They had been alone with Tommy before. As soon as Phil was out the door, Tommy would find some way to cause a problem for them. It was just in his nature. Neither of them could say anything about it, though. Instead, they shared the same doubtful silence and a glance of disbelief.

Phil set Tommy down, and opened the front door. “I should be back by morning, try your best not to destroy anything! Take care, boys!” He said as he left.

“We will!” Techno and Wilbur said in unison. Techno closed the door, giving one last wave to his father as he walked away into the evening light.

Wilbur leaned down to Tommy. “I know in a minute you’re going to become a thorn in our sides but can you do one good thing first? Run ahead and get the table ready for dinner. It won’t take me and Techno long to make dinner ‘cause we just have to heat it up on the stove.”

Tommy scrunched up his nose. “I guess,” he said, running off to the kitchen.

Watching Tommy run and disappear, Wilbur crossed his arms and looked at Techno with concern. “What do you suppose Dad meant by should?”

“Well, should typically means that it might not happen but he’s clearly fairly certain it will.”

Wilbur glanced to the direction of the kitchen. “And if it doesn’t?”

Exhaling, Techno paused in thought. “We deal. Act like everything is fine. Take Tommy to school, go to school ourselves, and go from there. If he’s not back by the time school lets out, then we worry.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Wilbur nodded in agreement.

“That’s not going to happen, though. He’s never not come back when he said he would. There’s nothing to worry about. What happened to the bravado you were showing off earlier?”

“Just a front, you know how I am. I don’t want Dad to worry about us. He’s clearly on some serious business. You’re right anyways. Like I told him, we can handle this, and I’m gonna prove that right now,” said Wilbur, shaking off the worry he had before. “Let’s get dinner now before the kid realizes something’s up”

The two joined Tommy in the kitchen, getting the soup that Phil and Techno had made from their garden vegetables last night and putting it on the stove.

“Look!” Tommy said, tugging on Wilbur’s sleeve.

Wilbur turned to the rest of the kitchen while Techno stirred the soup.

“I set the table just like you said! I even got matching bowls this time!” Tommy said proudly.

Smiling, Wilbur gently shooed Tommy away. “Good job, kid. Why don’t you sit down now, foods almost done.”

Tommy nodded and ran to his seat.

After that, the soup was done, and Wilbur sat down while Techno ladled out servings for the three of them. “Thanks,” he muttered to his brother.

Techno just nodded in response and sat down himself. “Careful Tommy, it might still be hot,” he cautioned.

“I know,” said Tommy. He blew on a spoonful of soup before eating it. After he swallowed he looked at both of his older brothers. “How come Dad had to leave all of a sudden?” He asked.

Both of them shook their heads. “He didn’t say,” said Techno.

Tommy shrugged in response. “Weird,” he said, turning his attention to dinner instead. He was only five, but he already understood his fathers idiosyncrasies. If Phil didn’t want anyone to know, nobody would be told, and that was the end of the story. It would work itself out, so why worry?

The brothers spent the rest of dinner just chatting and teasing each other, just spending time in each other's company without Phil there to reign them in. As much of a pain babysitting could be, it honestly was fun, just to have that freedom. Sure, Tommy’s usual little brother bothersome-ness increased without any real authority to stop him, but Techno and Wilbur could dish back out their older brother teasing more, too. Eventually, they all got done and piled up the dishes in the sink.

Wilbur stood at the sink. “Who’s on dishes tonight?”

“You, I think,” said Techno.

“Bullshit!” retorted Wilbur. “I did them last time!”

“No you didn’t!”

Wilbur stopped before he yelled back. “Wait, did you?”

“No, Dad said I helped out enough with dinner.”

“Then who did them last time? We’re the only ones who know how to wash dishes.”

“We’d know if Dad did because he complains when he does them,” said Techno.

“Did we-?” asked Wilbur, afraid to finish the sentence.

“Oh god,” Techno said, not needing the sentence to be finished. He checked the sink. “Well, the answer is nobody did the dishes and Dad’s been too busy with whatever’s got him occupied to notice.”

“Shit,” muttered Wilbur. “Split the work?” he suggested.

“Someone’s gotta watch Tommy.”

Wilbur shook his head. “No we don’t. He’s at that age where he thinks chores are cool because he can pretend to be grown up. We can rope him into this, easy. Watch,” he said, walking out to the living room, where Tommy was sitting. “Hey Tommy,” he said, putting on a grin. “Wanna help me and Techno with some big kid stuff?”

Grinning at the opportunity, Tommy nodded. “Yes!” he exclaimed, running out to the kitchen.

“Pull a chair up to the counter,” Wilbur said to Techno as he came in behind Tommy. “We’ve got a third set of hands.”

Techno did as he was told, and Tommy hopped up on the chair. “You know how to work this kid too well, Wilbur,” he joked.

“So what am I doing?” Tommy asked eagerly.

Tossing a dry dishcloth to Tommy, Wilbur said, “drying duty. I give you a dish, you dry it. Break one and we kill you.”

Tommy chuckled. “You can’t kill me ‘cause then Dad will kill you.”

“And it’ll be your fault we’re dead,” Techno said in response. “Let’s get to work now.”

The dishes eventually got done, with only one soap fight ensuing between them all somehow, and all the dishes clean. They were all dried too, and all unbroken, so no little brothers were murdered that night.

Checking the clock as he dried himself off, Techno turned to Wilbur in shock. “Wil. Tommy was supposed to be taking his bath like, five minutes ago.”

“What?” Wilbur said, also checking the clock. “Oh god,” he said.

Techno was already rushing to the bathroom. “I’ve got the bath handled. Get Tommy and get him clothes. If we hurry, we won’t be behind.”

Wilbur didn’t really have any choice but to agree. Techno had already set the plan in motion. The two of them had shooed Tommy off to the playroom while they finished cleaning up. He walked down, and found him there still, playing with some playset he had gotten for his birthday. Not even greeting him or saying anything really, Wilbur picked Tommy up, tucked him under his arm like a lumpy suitcase and went back out.

Obviously, Tommy struggled against his grip. “Wha- Wil!” he cried. “What’re you doing? Put me down!” he said, punching Wilbur’s ribs in defiance. “Wilbyyy!” he complained.

“You can’t baby-talk your way out of this, Tommy,” Wilbur said as he climbed the stairs. “We screwed up and now you missed you stupid bathtime.”

Tommy was finally released at the door to his bedroom. He scowled at his brother.

“Pick yourself out some pjs. Something you can dress yourself in, cause I’m not helping you and neither is Techno.”

“Fine,” Tommy said, running into his room. He returned with the clothes he needed.

Wilbur snatched them to make sure that they were a matching set, which they were, and that there wasn’t any reason Tommy would have trouble putting them on. No buttons, no long sleeves, all good. He gave them back to Tommy, and rushed him down the stairs to the bathroom.

By the time it took for Wilbur to get Tommy’s clothes and come back, Techno had filled the tub and already had the bubbles in. Him and Wilbur got Tommy in the bath and gave the boy his privacy after that, checking every so often just to make sure he hadn’t drowned.

Tommy came out of the bathroom, cleaner and in his pajamas. He still wore the same indignant expression he had from before. “Now it’s bedtime, right?” He asked, mustering up as much bite as a five year old could.

“Sure is,” said Techno.

“Wil, you didn’t have to pick me up like that,” Tommy said as he passed by the two and up the stairs.

Wilbur followed Tommy, as did Techno. “Well Tommy, the thing is, you have a penchant for being a brat and not doing as you're told,” explained Wilbur. “Sometimes it’s faster to just use force rather than try and talk you into something or fight with you.”

Turning back to Wilbur, Tommy said, “wait, what's a penchant?”

“It means you like something. Like how you like to change the subject when you’re being told off.”

Tommy just ignored that. He went down the hall to his room and waited for his brothers to come.

Techno and Wilbur just stood at the top of the stairs looking at him.

“Who’s gonna put me to bed?”

Both twins crossed their arms and looked at each other. Of course Tommy would pull something like this. “I handled the bath,” said Techno.

Wilbur sighed in annoyance. “You did. Fine. I’ll put him to bed,” he said, rolling his eyes as he followed his little brother into his room.

Tommy climbed into his little wooden bed and got underneath the sheets. He grabbed his favorite stuffed animal, a raccoon Wilbur had won at a fair and held it close. “Thanks Wilby,” he said.

Doing the obligatory tucking in, Wilbur couldn't help but let out a smirk. That kid knew how to press his buttons as much as Wilbur could press his. “No problem,” he said. “Aren’t you getting a little old for this though?”

Making a face in thought, Tommy nodded. “Yeah… but I wanted to tonight cause I’m kinda scared about going to bed without Dad. It’s lonely when it’s just us.”

“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” Wilbur said, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “He’s gonna be back before we even wake up, and me and Techno will be right in the next room ‘til then.”

Snuggling into his bed, Tommy smiled. “Okay!” He said. “Goodnight, Wil.”

“Night, Tommy,” Wilbur said as he turned out the light and left the room. He went to his and Techno’s room to get to bed himself. Or more likely, get in bed and stay up far too late for his own good.

Techno, who had already changed into pajamas and was in bed, looked up upon Wilburs arrival. Looking back down at the book he was reading, he greeted Wilbur but said no more.

Rifling through his dresser for a shirt to sleep in, Wilbur chuckled to himself. “Tommy’s something else, y’know? Poor kid just didn’t want to be alone at bedtime. It’s so weird,” he said, finding a shirt and changing into it. “You kinda just have to tell kids that it’ll be okay, but you don’t know that. It doesn’t feel like lying, though. It’s just… the right thing to do. You suppose Dad’s had to do something like that?”

Having closed the book due to Wilbur’s rambling, Techno nodded. “Well yeah, just think about it. I’m sure there’s dozens of things Dad’s covered up for us when we were little. We just don’t remember ‘cause we thought it was nothing.”

Wilbur got into his bed and hummed in agreement. “Oh, absolutely. I just think it’s odd how we don’t really think about it.”

“Well can you think about it quieter? I was reading before you came in.”

“There’s not much else to think about on that subject. I’m just gonna sleep anyways,” Wilbur said, taking his glasses off and putting them on his bedside table then rolling over to face the wall.

After some time, Techno too got tired, and set down his book before doing the exact same ritual. Glasses on the table, rolled over to face the wall. A mirror image.

The two fell asleep, despite Wilbur’s belief that he’d be up all night. Being around Tommy can be tiresome. They both slept peacefully in their room until a sound woke Wilbur up. Crying. Before he could get up himself, his sheets were ripped from him. Rolling back over, he fumbled for his glasses and put them on for a minute.

Tommy. He’d woken in the middle of the night, and was clearly upset. “Wilbyyy,” he cried, “I had- I had,” he hiccuped. “I had a bad dream and I can’t sleep.”

Annoyed, Wilbur pulled his blanket back up. “Tommy, you can if you try. Just get back in bed.”

The boy sniffled and pulled at Wilbur’s sheets in protest. “Nuh uh, I don’t wanna. I’ll be all by myself in there!” He said through tears.

Oh. Of course. The kid wasn’t scared of some dream he had or monsters under the bed. He was just lonely. Little brat melted Wilbur’s heart. “Lemme guess. You don’t wanna go to sleep alone?”

Tommy shook his head emphatically.

“Fine,” Wilbur said, already taking his glasses back off. He made some space on his bed. “Get in you little crybaby.”

His demeanor already changed, Tommy climbed in next to his big brother and snuggled in. “Thanks again,” he mumbled, already sleepy again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wilbur said, also setting into bed. “Don't mention it.”

Finally, all three boys were to bed and asleep peacefully. Tommy wasn’t even a pain to share a bed with. Apparently, sleep was the only time that kid was completely still. Wilbur didn’t lose any sleep at all.

Like he had promised, Phil was back in the morning. It was still quite early, long before any of the boys would need to be up. He had stopped in the bathroom first, to get the first aid kit. His little trip had gotten him some bad injuries, but he could fix them up before any of his boys ever knew. And likely never would know. After that he went upstairs. It had been a sleepless night for him, and he was dying to see a bed.

Of course, he had to see if his kids were asleep first. Techno and Wil’s room was the first in the hall, and he popped his head in there first. Techno was asleep, his long hair splayed all around him and flowing onto his face. He looked over to Wilbur’s bed and couldn’t help but grin. Wilbur was asleep, a surprise of course, based on how sleepless the boy usually was, but there was another thing that took Phil by surprise. Tucked under Wilbur’s arm, fast asleep and smiling vacantly, was Tommy. For once in their lives, his sons weren’t fighting or getting up to something. Phil didn’t know what led to this moment, but wasn’t particularly worried with that. Whatever it was, it was just proof that his boys could handle themselves, and Phil was proud. Still smiling, he left the room and went to his own, collapsing onto his bed and finally sleeping himself.

#mcyt #mcyters #mcytblr #mcytumblr #minecraft youtube #minecraft yt #minecraft youtubers #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #philza #philza minecraft #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc family dynamic #sleepy bois fanfic #sleepy bois inc fanfiction #mcyt fanfiction

[dewykth]

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle​​​ and @dewykth​​​ collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj  word count. 7.5k+  warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr​​​​ !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳  i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter. 

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head. 

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry. 

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel. 

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation. 

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go?  Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter One. Welcome to Sweetland

the scene is set in 1956, a young man moved to Hollywood to follow his dreams of becoming an actor. But with little money and a struggle to keep his apartment, he is approached by a man who offers him a job at Sweetland

a/n: THE FIRST CHAPTER IS FINALLY HERE! this story is loosely based on the Netflix series ‘Hollywood’. just the general concept of it and ofc adding my own twist to it. I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it! happy reading <3

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please rb to share <3

The familiar click of his boots onto the tiled shiny floor is what Harry looked forward to all the time.

He found motivation as he walked down the hall as he passed by locals pacing back and forth with their fingernails in their mouths or sitting on chairs against the wall as they nervously chatted with one another. Some of the girls glanced at him seductively as he walked, making his confidence shoot up a bit. Harry took each and every single one of them in; telling himself to not let their anxiousness get the better of him because he was better than them, he was more good looking than them, and he was a better actor than them. At least that’s what his self affirmations tell himself every morning.

The bright light shining from above him as he takes each step made him feel like a spotlight. He put on his best game face and walked confidently as he wore a white crisp button down shirt with a yellow polka vest, blue flared jeans, and red boots. It was his lucky outfit and one of his favorites. It was a stuffy outfit for the hot weather in Hollywood, but he needed to look dashing. Plus they were all a steal in the clearance section!

“Harry! Over here!” He saw Mikey waving over at him at the end of the hall. Harry waved back at him as he hurriedly walked towards him.

“Hey, Mikey. How is it in there?” He asked as they tried peeking into the room everyone has been waiting to have a chance to get into.

“Man, it’s crazy. Everyone in there is so intimidating!” Mikey shook his head as he looked up at Harry. He was a tad bit shorter than Harry, but he was humorous and the camera always loved a funny person.

Harry and Mikey met in front of the gates at Paramount Studios almost a year ago. They were both standing right next to each other amongst the hundreds of people waving their hands up in the air as they tried to get the attention of the casting directors. But in the midst of it all the chaos, Harry had accidentally elbowed Mikey’s head, which caused him to get infuriated and led them to a fight.

“Think you can go fucking around elbowing people, huh?” Failed punches were being thrown at one another as they tackled each other to the ground; a crowd had circled around him. Despite Mikey’s height, he was underestimated. He was feisty, tough and can pretty much handle anyone.

But that fight had been broken up by security, and somehow and some way, the casting directors found that entertaining and picked the both of them to be an extra. They were both ecstatic, not knowing a so-called fist fight would lead them to being an extra on set. Of course, it was hard to work with one another after the fight they had caused. But after throwing looks at one another, they figured it was best to get along and work together.

And they found out they had many things in common and respected each other’s dislikes. Since then, they’ve been by each other’s side.

“I’m sure you did great. Don’t sweat it,” Harry patted Mikey’s shoulder, reassuring him from his audition.

“Oh, oh! They’re coming! Get ready!”

Two older women walked out of the doors of the room that was frightening but exhilarating all at once. Everyone rushed to the entrance of the door, putting on their best smiles and mystery looks as the two women looked around to find their perfect face. Harry stood still, not putting on his best look as a way to tell them he was trying too hard.

“Alright, here’s how this is going to work,” one of the women screamed out to the eager crowd. She was tough as she wore an all black dress that stopped below her knees and 2 inch heels. Her expression was stern, giving everyone a hard look as they listened to her. “I’m going to choose two of you to walk inside with us and you will be given a chance to audition. We want to see the best actors and actresses to give us the performance of a lifetime.”

“Everyone ready?” The other woman in purple said and everyone nodded their heads. “Please get into two lines on both sides of the wall.” The crowd did so. Harry being the first one in the line since Mikey saved him a spot. Nervous was an understatement for Harry. He wanted to be chosen and this can finally be the start of the career he’s been dreaming of.

The two women glanced at everyone as they walked between the lines, looking at everyone’s smiles and anxious looks. Everyone’s heads turned as they walked passed by them, frowns present on their faces as they didn’t get chosen.

After a few minutes, Harry heard their heels clicking onto the floor as they were walking back. He turned his head and saw a girl walking behind them as she beamed in excitement. A small frown was placed on his face, feeling as his hopes have been crushed.

Suddenly, he felt their presence stop walking and stopped in front of him. His head immediately was brought back up to look at them, frown was replaced by a small smile.

“You’re good looking,” the lady in black said with no emotion. Her stare was intimidating, making Harry stutter.

“T-Thank you,” he cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said again more clearly.

“Can you smile for me?” She asked. Harry gave her his best smile. The one that wasn’t too bright nor the one that wasn’t too small. But he gave his charming smile, making his dimples pop out. She looked at him for a few seconds as she stared into his eyes before she said, “Okay, come with me.” And she walked off into the room followed by the other director and the girl that they picked.

Harry couldn’t believe that they actually picked him. He turned towards Mikey and he was smiling so big, giving him a big thumbs up and a pat on his shoulder.

“Go get ‘em kid!” He lightly pushed him towards the door as Harry felt his feet were stuck to the ground from the shock.

Entering the room, he was met by the eyes of three other producers sitting at a long table. They had their coffees in front of them and a notepad with a pen, looking through a list of actors and actresses they’ve come across.

“Okay, just wait here as we prepare. Names?” the lady in purple positioned Harry and the other girl in the center of the room in front of the table of people that would dictate his future as she got their names before walking back to the table.

The room was freezing and Harry shook as he got shivers down his spine.

“Nervous?” The girl said next to him.

“Yeah, a bit. You?”

“Eh, I’m doing okay. Not my first audition,” she said in a bragging tone, and Harry just simply nodded. She was a small petite girl with long hair as she wore a pink pleated skirt with a pink striped top. Her hair was short as it curled up towards the end of it, giving her a more girly and preppy look. “I’m Brandy,” she introduced herself.

“Harry.” They softly and quickly shook hands.

“Say, Harry, how about we have a little fun after this audition?” Harry looked down at her and she gave him a brow raise with a teasing smirk.

“Uh-” Harry hesitated and luckily, they were interrupted.

“Okay, you two. Since we planned on not doing any scripts for this audition, you’re going to need to improvise. Show us your true and natural talent. I’ll set the scene: you two are at a party and are about to break up. Okay? Ready? Action!” One of the producers told them hurriedly, giving them no time to take it all in.

Harry and Brandy turned towards each other, and Harry’s face was immediately met with the palm of Brandy’s hand, giving him a hard and loud slap to his cheek. Harry’s head whipped to the side, covering the sting with his hand.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked in shock.

“How dare you break up with me! You don’t get to break up with me,” Brandy’s eyes were immediately filled with tears, and Harry wondered how she was so quick to make herself cry like that.

“I-I’m sorry. But it’s not my fault I caught you fucking some other guy!” Harry retorted back. Brandy’s tears had fallen onto her face, and Harry’s face remained annoyed.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything. I promise I won’t do it again,” she grabbed his hands as she pleaded.

“No,” Harry started softly, feeling sympathy for his co-partner. “This has to end. It’s for the best-”

“CUT!” One of the men screamed out, interrupting their scene.

“Great, great job guys. That’s all we need. Brandy, come see us. Harry, you’re free to go.”

Brandy squealed beside him, walking towards the table to possibly talk about a contract and a part in a film while Harry slowly walked back to the entrance that was now his exit, feeling completely gutted. He thought he did fairly well; if they had given them more time, he would’ve been able to continue on and show them what they’re really missing. But that was their decision, and Harry had no choice but to try again the next time.

As he exited the room, he was immediately met by Mikey waiting for him with a big and hopeful smile.

“Well? Got that contract you wanted?” He asked.

Harry shook his head in defeat. “Gonna try again the next time. Didn’t fully get to show my talent y’know?” He said as the two friends walked towards the exit of the building. Mikey put his arm around Harry’s body, hand resting on top of his shoulder.

“There will be plenty of more auditions to come. Don’t worry,” Mikey reassured his friend as they walked out the door to be met with the bright shining light of the California sun.

“S’alright. Gotta keep goin’,” Harry said, convincing himself not to give up as he places a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up.

“That’s the spirit! But listen, I gotta get going. The family needs me, but I’ll see you at the next audition! Be there!” Mikey bid him goodbye as he was walking away from him. Harry waved at him, watching his friend walk home to his family.

And Harry needed a drink.

He found himself at a bar close to his apartment. It was midday so no one was really at the bar except about four other people, chatting and playing pool. He was drinking whiskey, downing glass after glass, needing something stronger than a beer as he had a tough and long day.

“Long day, kid?” A man with a full head of grey hair and grey mustache asked. He was very attractive for an old man. Looked very classy and proper, probably had a good job because he just looked fucking rich; while Harry is struggling to find a stable job to pay off his bills.

Harry scoffed, “You have no idea.” He called for the bartender, getting his attention. “Can I get another one of these please?” The bartender sighed, shaking to himself while getting Harry another drink; his fifth one in just 10 minutes. Once the bartender set his drink down, Harry simply picked it up and threw it down his throat as if it was mouthwash.

“What’s got you like this?” The man asked curiously. Harry turned towards him, giving him a look up and down. He’s usually very polite with meeting new people and is usually shy, but with the alcohol in his system on top of the horrible day he had, it was like he was a different person. He’s usually the soft and cuddly type when he’s buzzed or drunk, but again, he just had a bad day.

“Ya wanna know?” He didn’t wait for the man’s answer, but he nodded anyway. “Well, for starters, got a fuckin’ audition earlier because y’know, that’s what I do. I’m an actor. Anyways, I do the audition that they picked me out of, like, 50 people, and this girl who bragged about having plenty of auditions. And when we start, not even 5 minutes as we start actin’, they stop us! Thought they were lovin’ what we were doin’ that’s why they stopped us, but she told that Brandy girl to meet them after and dismissed me, like for fuck sakes!” Harry was seething as he was telling the story, and practically everyone was listening in since he was talking so loudly.

“Sorry about that, kid. But that’s what you do huh? You act?” The man asked, placing his cigar in his mouth.

“Yeah. Tryin’ to make a fuckin’ living and I’ve been struggling keeping my apartment,” he rolled his eyes, trying to remember the next due date was for his rent and electricity bill.

“It’s a tough world out there. But hey, what do you say you work for me?” The man offered and Harry’s brows furrowed.

“Don’t even know your name.”

“Well if you must know, like you didn’t just tell me your whole life story, I’m Daren,” he offered a hand to shake, and Harry takes it.

“Harry. So what exactly do you do?” Harry wondered.

“I work for a candy store,” he simply stated.

“A candy store…” Harry repeated and Daren nodded. “What the fuck am I gonna do at a candy store?”

“Simple. It’s like a self-serve candy store, but my workers serve them instead. Just grab a bag and they tell you what they want, and you get it. Simple as that,” he explained. “You’re an attractive man! Got the face and everything, and considering you’re tall, bet you’re packing down there too,” Daren said nonchalantly.

“Are you offering me a job or you’re gonna compliment my cock?” He wondered why the sudden mention of his cock came to play, but brushed it off. Harry hadn’t realized that he would be working at a candy store when he moved to Hollywood. He had big dreams, and he wanted to follow his dreams by getting as many auditions as he can and be in front of the camera, not work in candyland.

“Both. Just think about it. You’d be making a lot of money working there—hell of a lot more than minimum wage. And I’m talking about starting at $30 for an entire day. You can’t pass that deal up! And you just said it yourself that you can’t afford to keep your apartment. I mean, let’s face it. When are you going to get another audition? You’ve already gotten rejected from the one today!” Harry was breathing out of his nose, practically huffing at him as Daren mentioned the rejection. He knew that what Daren said was right, but Harry was hard headed and didn’t want to believe him.

“Sorry, mate,” he stood from his chair, grabbing his wallet from his back pocket as he set out a $10 bill on the counter. “Thank, but no thanks,” he told Daren, pride getting in the way.

“Well, my offer is still on the table. I’m located on Sunset, so you know where to find me once you get what I said through your ass,” he said louder than usual as Harry was walking away with no look back, exiting the bar and walking home.

When he reached the front of his door, he was met by paper taped to it that read ‘LATE RENT SECOND NOTICE’. Harry sighed, ripping the paper off the door before unlocking it and heading inside. He briskly threw the notice on the table and he sat down on his couch, rolling out his neck and closed his eyes for a moment. His shoulder and neck felt tight—his overall body felt tense, like he couldn’t relax for a tad bit.

He was stressed. The dream of becoming an actor was made when he was a teenager. From auditioning for one of his school plays in comprehensive school and getting the lead role, he felt the rush of being on stage when he was only sixteen. From then on, he wanted to take that dream to the next step, and he was talking about being on camera, on billboard, stepping on stage when he wins and collecting his Oscar. Harry reaches for big dreams, and he was determined to make his dreams come true.

In his state of pondering about lifelong dreams of making it in the industry, the electricity had gone out. It was like he was so in his head about becoming a famous actor that he felt like he was in the clouds and nothing was limiting him, but the harsh reality of his source of light going out had brought him back to the ground.

A groan from Harry’s mouth was heard between the walls of his tiny apartment, frustrated that he can’t seem to find money just to save him from getting evicted from his home. He took a deep breath as his body was stretched across the couch, hands on his face as he debated what to do.

He thought about getting more auditions, which he will eventually try for because again, that was his lifelong dream, but how many auditions did he have to do for anyone to see him other than a pretty face. Let’s face it, Harry knew he was attractive and having a nice face helped him get auditions, although he’s only had two in his lifetime. But he wanted to be seen more than that. He wanted to be seen for his talent, his ability to act, and being the person the camera loves.

Harry then thought about the offer Daren from the bar made him. It was quite random how someone badly wanted him to work for some candy shop when there are so many people who are looking for a side job. Of course he didn’t want to work there, but he did remember Daren saying that he was willing to pay a lot. But who in the world has that kind of money to pay $30 for working at a simple candy store?

Hell if Harry knew, but he knew that he needed to make some sacrifices.

You were sat in the beige booth across from your two friends, waiting on your food as Alice was reapplying her lip gloss and Frances was talking to you nonstop about a boy she had met from class.

It was your usual Friday afternoon as the three of you met up at Mel’s Drive In to have weekly breakfast for lunches. It was a ritual ever since you were in high school.

Having met them your freshman year of high school when you three were in the same dance class, you girls were inseparable. You’ve been through breakups, crushes, and gossip with them; and they were like your sisters. Sisters who talk about anything and everything with no limits or shame.

And now you three were dance teachers at the academy school you all danced at. It honestly worked very well; when a dancer hits eighteen, they graduate and that’s their farewell from growing up and continuously dancing at the studio. A year before you three graduated from college, your ballet instructor, Sally, had told you three that her and the rest of the staff always loved your techniques and stability. And you were all very excited for the journey.

“I swear to god, I was gonna jump him right then and there,” Frances said waving her hand as if she was fanning herself.

“Wait, he did what now?” Alice asked, pausing from putting on her lip gloss. She did it all the time, but you had no idea as to why she was doing that when you were about to eat. But Alice is Alice.

“If you can take one second not eating your lip gloss, then you would have heard me,” Frances turned to her right to face Alice, a frustrated look on her face. It was the same old annoyed look Frances gave Alice and to others, it looked like she was about to start a fight, but to the three of you, it was just pure bickering and humorously messing with each other.

“Anyways, tell us more,” you said, reaching over to Frances, and she excitedly turned back towards you, happy someone was paying attention.

“He just kept flirting with me! Kept saying I looked so pretty and said he wanted to take me out, which I think he’s gonna ask me out the next time I see him because he kept hinting at it, and I’m just so excited! Although I wasn’t sure if I wanted to date another dancer, let alone a coworker, but I don’t care anymore!” She squealed in excitement, and told her how happy you were for her.

“What about you?” Alice asked suddenly.

“What about me?” You asked back, leaning back on the leather cushion. Before Alice was about to answer, their food had arrived and was placed in front of you,

“Any guys or girls you’ve been into lately?” You thought about it, and shook your head truthfully as you dug into your pancakes. “C’mon! There isn’t anyone at all?” You shook your head again, taking a bite. “Not even that Tyler guy?” You rolled your eyes, waiting to swallow your bite before you answered.

“No, no, and no. I don’t know. It’s hard for me to get out there y’know?” You slightly frowned, realizing that you had been missing the affection and attention you wanted.

“Oh, whatever! You’re just saying because you’re too shy and proper to say that you haven’t been fucked in forever,” Frances said too loudly for your liking. You looked around your table to see if anyone had any lingering eyes on the three of you, but everyone seemed to be only paying attention to their business. “Face it, the last time you’ve been touched was Chris—and hell if he did the job.”

“And we know you can get out there. You’re pretty, smart, funny, and you’re a rich bitch! So many guys go after you in the passing!” Alice added.

“Yeah, only cause they want to get to my dad, remember?” You raised your eyebrows at them, and they went silent for a bit, remembering that ordeal.

“Well, those fuckers don’t know what they’re missing,” Frances said back.

“Since when have you used such language?” You faked a dramatic gasp, teasing her as she laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Please, ever since you told us about your kinkful night of sex that one time our freshman year of college, knew you weren’t an angel yourself,” Frances smirked, and a gasp was heard from Alice.

“Oh god, I remember that! It was with that junior Lance Mills! I want to hear that story over again. It was like listening to a sex film.” Alice put her hands under her chin as they both eagerly waited for you to tell the story again.

“Maybe next time. Y’know when we’re alone and I’m not about to devour this pancake,” you promised and they nodded excitedly.

The three of you ate your food as Johnny Cash was playing from the jukebox. You and Frances were minding your own businesses, thinking the subject prior was far gone and over with until Alice spoke up again.

“Y’know…I know something that’ll help you with the whole…” she started waving her hand around you like she was casting a spell, and you were utterly confused.

Your brows furrowed, “With what?”

“Your whole dry spell of not being able to get some,” her brows raised, and your mouth slightly opened.

“I am not on a dry spell!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms once you were finished with your pancakes, but felt satisfied, knowing Mel’s pancakes were the best you’ve ever had.

“Please. It’s been what? A year since you’ve had sex? Unacceptable.” You rolled your eyes at Frances’ statement. “You have everything you want except a good orgasm. Can you believe that?” She turned her head towards Alice in disbelief; the two of them shaking their heads.

“Ugh! I don’t need to have sex to complete my life! I am perfectly fine with pleasing myself and not having someone do it for me, and I am perfectly fine with not having sex… at the moment,” you added the last part in case the universe had some weird way of working, making your dry spell even longer. Frances and Alice laughed, knowing you all too well that you loved having sex and someone to hook up with.

It was like you were contradicting yourself in your head--thinking you were okay with yourself, but wanting someone else. But you honestly were fine with doing the job yourself--you didn’t mind that at the very least, but it is always nice to have someone to do it for you. What you were thinking was: yes, you could do it and reach an orgasm yourself, but you didn’t need someone to do it for you. If someone comes your way and helps you out, great. If someone doesn’t, also great, you’d do it yourself.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Alice spoke up. “One of the girls was talking about some shop that always has hot guys working there and they’re always hiring hot guys.”

Frances turned her body towards her, “Ooh, tell me more.”

“You are about to get asked out by some other guy. Don’t be greedy, this is for her!” You chuckled at them as they fought like a married couple. “Well, she was saying how she met this one guy there and they fucked in her car! She would not stop talking about orgasm after orgasm! And she also said all the other workers there are hot too, so you can go down there and check it out for yourself,” Alice explained. “You can just do it once too--get all that stress out of your system.”

You thought about how long your dry spell has been going for. It hasn’t been too long that you were deprived from having good sex, and you would love to look at handsome men even if that means you wouldn’t get any since you were tired of looking at the boys in your class as you thought none of them were really all that attractive to you. So, you nodded in agreement and Alice perked up.

“Where is this shop at?” You asked curiously.

“It’s a candy shop on sunset. But you need a code to get in.”

You confusingly asked, “A code? Why would you need a code?”

“Don’t know. Probably for some identity reason. But they also serve celebrities as well, so that could possibly be a reason,” Alice said.

“Okay…What’s the code?” You asked slowly.

Frances squealed, “You’re really gonna do this?” You shrugged your shoulders but nodded your head.

“So, the code?” You asked Alice again to see her and Frances smirking at one another. Probably because you agreed to doing this and admitting that you wanted to get laid.

“Cloud nine.”

Harry found himself in front of ‘Sweetland’ at 12 in the afternoon on Sunday.

After much debate, he realized he really needed the money when he was in the midst of a shower and the water had turned off. Just as he got soap in his eyes, he figured he would put his pride aside and take up on Daren’s offer. Because what could be so bad working at a candy store? People have to start somewhere in their life in order to make it.

He had a night’s long of pondering, telling himself that an audition is not just going to pop up out of nowhere, but he couldn’t lose hope just yet. And besides, he probably wouldn’t even get paid that much if he wasn’t under a contract with a big agency. So the candy shop would have to do it for now.

Walking through the door, he was met with a few pairs of eyes from men who perked up thinking he was a customer, but quickly put their heads down.

“Ah, so I see you decided to work for me,” Daren said as he noticed Harry at the entrance of the shop, a smirk placed on his face.

“Yeah. Just really need the money,” Harry replied honestly.

“Well, welcome to your first day, boy! Here is your uniform, restrooms are over there,” Daren handed Harry clothes and slightly pushed towards the restroom to get changed.

Once he finished changing and got out of the restroom, he noticed he was matching with the other workers; wearing a blue sparkly blouse with a pussybow and white trousers. He had to admit that he loved the outfit, but wished everyone had different outfits so he could stand out.

“Everyone! This is Harry. He will be joining our team and will be along with this journey of ours.” He noticed Daren smirk as he introduced him to everyone with a hand on his shoulder. There were about five other guys working at the shop that day, and everyone waved, greeting him.

Everyone working were guys and Harry noticed how good looking everyone was, and there were no women working at all, which confused him at the very least.

“Alright, so your job is to basically serve customers. Easy as that. You’ll just grab a bag,” Daren does so as he speaks, “and whatever you want, just fill it up to however they desire. Simple.” Harry didn’t miss his sexual innuendo, even if it was innocent as candy, but he chuckled, amusing Daren. “Got it?”

“Yeah. Seems pretty easy-”

“That’s the spirit! But first, I’m going to need you to stock some of the candy containers in the back,” Daren grabbed a couple of empty jars that were out on display, and Harry nodded as he followed Daren to the back where all the candy was stocked in large containers. “These have the labels on them, so just fill them with the right ones.”

“Alright,” Harry responded, and Daren pats his back before walking towards the exit. “Hey, Daren.” He stopped him before he was able to walk out. He turned around and Harry gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. Y’know, for the job. I really mean it.”

Daren smiled back, “Don’t thank me yet, kid.” And with that, he walked out as Harry filled the empty containers with more candy.

After 30 minutes of filling jars and sweeping the floor, Daren called him to the front of the store. It was more busy than usual but enough for all the workers to be occupied.

“Ready for your first customer?” Harry perked up, and nodded his head eagerly as he was finally going to help a customer out and serve them. “There she is. Remember to smile, and if they say cloud nine, do as they say.”

“Wait, what’s cloud-”

“Go get ‘em.” With a slight push, Harry was lurched forward, walking towards the woman waiting by the door.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Harry asked with a shy smile on his face.

“Just a bag of candy, please,” the lady said as she looked around the store.

“Sure thing,” Harry grabbed a candy bag and followed her around the store as he waited for her to tell her what kind of candy she wanted.

“Can you put these in there?” She said, pointing to the container of gumballs and Harry grabbed the metal spoon, filling it before dropping it in the bag. “That’s all I want,” she said, and Harry ties the bag up.

“Okay. Anything else?” He asked.

“Yeah. Cloud nine?” Harry was utterly confused when she said the phrase; he didn’t know what to do at this point because Daren didn’t take the time to explain it to him.

The woman slapped a few quarters onto the counter before grabbing the bag of gumballs from Harry’s hands and walking out of the store. He turned around and looked at Daren raising two thumbs up at him and Harry was quick to follow her out.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you want me to do,” he said, still confused on what he was supposed to do. She stopped walking, stopping right in front of her white car, and turned around.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said straightforwardly, and Harry’s eyes widened. The woman was about in her forties with a diamond ring on her finger, flashing in his face from how bright the diamond is and how it clashes with the sun.

“P-Pardon?” He stuttered as his face turned red. The lady’s brows raised and Harry could tell that she was getting frustrated mentally and sexually.

“Isn’t that what you guys do? Fuck your customers when they want to?” She crossed her arms impatiently, and Harry’s mouth opened slightly but nothing came out from it, truly speechless at her words.

“I-I’m sorry…I don’t-”

“Ugh, never mind. Forget it,” the lady scoffed and walked to the driver side of her car and got in quickly before driving away, leaving Harry with an unsatisfied customer, a frustrated him, and possibly an angry boss.

With slow steps, Harry walked towards the entrance as he gave himself a 30 second pep talk before he had to go through the door, hoping he wouldn’t get fired on his first day.

He opened the door, the bell from above ringing from the movement of the door. The first thing that his eyes landed on was Daren’s confused face, and Harry frowned, nerves boiling through his veins.

“The fuck you still doing here?” Daren asked with his hands up. Harry scratched the back of his neck, feeling his blouse getting too tight for his own good.

“I, uh-”

“I sure hope to god you’re about to say you made her orgasm in two minutes. And you better not that you lasted two minutes,” his hands are now on his hips, waiting for his answer. “Well? Gonna give me a straight answer or are you gonna just stand there?” Harry’s brows furrowed in anger; from frustration and desperation of making money.

“You never told me what to fuckin’ do. Just expected me to hear a phrase and fuck someone? A little heads up would’ve been nice!” He snapped, his voice louder than he would like, but figured it’s necessary.

“Thought you already figured it out when I was talking about your cock back at the bar!” Daren retorted back, grabbing Harry’s arm and bringing him to the back, away from the other workers.

Harry yanked his arm back when they were both away from the rest, “The least you could’ve done was tell me straight up.”

“I didn’t think you’d care! You’re a good looking guy that probably wants to get laid. When was the last time you fucked someone anyways?” Harry looked at him and rolled his eyes, not answering his question. “I’m assuming it’s been a while…” he paused, eyes widened as if he made a realization. “Unless you’re a virgin because I’m not sure this is the right job for you—well, it might be depending how you look at it-”

“Yes, it’s been a while and no, I’m not a virgin. Not like there’s anything wrong with that,” Harry interrupted just to simply shut him up.

“Look kid, I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear on what this job offered, that was my fault,” Daren placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, how about the rest of the day, you just work with the candy. You don’t have to deal with customers today, and you can decide if you still want to work here. If you do, then you start tomorrow— actually start tomorrow this time. How does that sound?” Harry took a deep breath and nodded slowly, figuring he has about 3 hours to decide what he wants to do. “Great. There’s a few containers that need restocking and some unboxing in the back.”

Harry got to work immediately, but he took his time to make time somehow go by faster as he was surrounded by sour candies, chocolate, and bubblegum. And he was also thinking on how this whole thing will end up. It was only his first day so he wouldn’t get paid, but if Daren was true to his word when he said he would start out at $40, he may as well end up staying here. Because where else is he going to get that type of money in one day? No where. He’d have to work at least two weeks to get a whole $30 when he can make so much more if he were to stay at Sweetland.

Time did go by faster as his brain was scrambled with thought and his mouth felt like he’s eaten every piece of candy. He threw out all the boxes and stored the candy in its right container before washing his hands to see the rest of the workers cleaning up. He wanted to help out, even though he’s done enough, and grabbed a rag before wiping down the counter and the spaces between the candy containers.

“Hey,” Harry said to the guy, whose name tag read Pete, as he was sweeping the floor of sugar and dropped candy.

Pete looked up and smiled, “How did you like your first day?”

“It was unexpected.” Harry chuckled.

“It is, isn’t it?” Pete smiled, and Harry nodded.

“That’s how he dropped the bomb on all of us. Didn’t say much of what we do besides what we do with the actual candy, but just threw us into the pack of wolves and fed us alive.”

“That’s…descriptive.” Pete laughed. “I mean, is it worth it?”

“If you’re desperate for money, then yeah. The reason why we all stayed was mainly because of that, but we’ve grown to like it a lot, and that’s not because we get to have sex everyday. But because Daren is actually really fun and cool, and we’ve all made friends with each other. It’s an experience, for sure.” Harry nodded, taking everything in. He knew his answer before talking to Pete, but he just needed some reassurance, guidance.

Daren came to view when Harry looked up, walking towards him, obviously for one reason. “So, boy, what do you say?”

Harry thought for the last time. Quickly going over his decisions, and having a full on debate in his head as he imagined pros and cons lists. The pros out weighted the cons, and there was really no question about it. The pros were: lots of money, sex, nice coworkers, and good candy. The cons list was: nothing.

He didn’t think he’d end up like this. Working for a fake candy store, but in the sense it’s not fake because it sells real candy, and getting sex this way.

But again, he needed to make sacrifices in order to keep his place and practically live.

“I’ll stay.”

Your muscles were strained from the amount of hours you were on your feet--more like years since you’ve been dancing ever since you were little. From teaching your students a plie to releve to saute; always making sure yours and their toes are always pointed. Your muscles were aching and you were tired, physically and mentally.

It wasn’t like you didn’t love to dance--you’ve been doing it for years, hell, you were teaching it. But it was the long hours during the day where some days, you had to teach and rehearse for at least 12 hours a day. So, needless to say, you were exhausted.

But that wasn’t even the worst of them all. At the end of the day, you had to go home and deal with your family. They were supportive, but not in the sense where you want them to be. They were supportive in what they want for you, not what you want for yourself. It was something you had to live with--you don’t remember a time you got what you wanted, except when you suggested you wanted to do dance when you were younger.

It didn’t take long for them to agree for them to sign you up for dance classes, but only signing you up for classical ballet.

“Sweetheart, it’s just more elegant. You’ll learn how to be more flexible and fix that god awful posture of yours,” your mother had said when you suggested you wanted to do something like tap dance. You had nodded your seven-year-old head as you sulked back to your room, figuring ballet was better than nothing when you asked to take some dance classes.

Your mother, Jane, wasn’t always so harsh with you. In fact, her attitude towards you had gotten better as you got older, but that was probably because she found your dad, Richard, cheating on her with another woman. And she thought you didn’t know a thing, hence why her attitude changed towards you, but you knew everything.

But you were all Jane had, and it was when you were sixteen, she suggested a girls day with you; talking to you with a soft tone and not making any remarks towards how you look. But you were happy for the change; it bettered and strengthened your relationship with your mother and she sides with you with almost everything once your father comes at you for something so little.

Walking through the large doors of your home, you threw your bags on the floor, the heaviness was making your back and shoulders hurt even more, immediately walking towards the kitchen as you stretched out your limbs and joints.

It was almost 10 p.m and you realized you had so many things to do still. Between coming up with a routine and some new ways to warm up, you were filled with overwhelmingness, and you just wanted to have a decent meal in silence.

But sadly, you didn’t get that--either of that. Instead of silence, laughs were heard from the dining room, and once you walked into the room to see what all the noise was about, the thought of a decent meal was lost from your appetite at the sight in front of you.

It was your father laughing with your ex boyfriend, Chris. The sight was unbearable and you wanted to run out of the room, but first, you wanted to know what the actual fuck is Chris doing here.

“Ah, darling, so glad you could join us. Was just having a laugh here with your dear boyfriend, Chris,” Richard had said once he saw you, calming down from his laughter. Chris was looking at you with a smile, and you never wanted to slap a smile off someone’s face before him.

“Ex boyfriend,” you said clearly, making sure they both heard you right.

“Oh, tomato, tomahto. Same shit. Won’t be long until you get back together with him,” Richard chuckled, thinking he was right. But he was far from right; you have no plans whatsoever getting back together with him nor do you have plans ever associating yourself with him, so the fact that he’s in your house right now is just boiling your blood.

“Father, Chris and I are never getting back together. I mean it,” you tell your father, but looking at Chris as you say so, hoping to get your words engrained to his skull. But all Chris did was smirk at like you were wrong, but you rolled your eyes, not amusing him.

“Sure, whatever you say. How about you sit and join us.” Richard points his hands towards the empty chair next to Chris.

“I’d rather not,” you sighed.

“Not asking you, darling,” Richard gives you a disapproving look as if he’s trying not to lash out in front of his ‘perfect’ guest like he’s a ‘perfect’ host.

“Well, I’m telling you I don’t want to. Besides, I have schoolwork to do.” You told him sternly, completely over this conversation. As you were about to walk away, his voice raised slightly.

“Darling. Sit. Now,” he demanded. He was angry, that’s for sure, and the vein on his forehead looked like it was about to pop from you not cooperating.

Giving him the point, you sighed as you took a seat next to Chris, but left a chair between you two, not wanting to be anywhere close to him. You wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t walked in on your father and Chris being buddies, and you wished that you had just ignored the laughter because your night would’ve been much nicer than sitting at a table with the two of them together.

But you were rather proud of yourself for sticking up for yourself. Some parents may call it talking back, but that was nowhere near talking back. You grew a thick skin around him throughout the years. From the countless times of crying in your bedroom because Richard would call you names or tell you that you weren’t good enough, you had to grow that kind of toughness around him. Sometimes you had to fight back for yourself; you weren’t going to let him or anyone walk all over you. Seeing your father do that to your mother just broke your heart, but you told yourself that no one will ever treat you like that.

“So, Chris and I were talking about your futures together-”

You raised a hand up only for it to be smacked onto the table causing the table to make a loud sound. “What did I just say? I am never going to have a future with him.”

“Not after what he planned for us,” Chris pitched in.

“Well, you can shove that plan up your ass if you think I’m gonna let you plan my future!” You said, turning towards your father. You were on the edge of your seat, close to getting up and raising your voice even louder or completely walking out of the room as anger flushed through you.

“Do not speak to me that way! Who gave you the right to even use those words?” Richard’s eyes furrowed as he pointed a finger at you, obviously angry, and not giving a fuck if he had a guest hear his anger.

“Gave me the right? You did when you decided to be an absolute dick to mom and I!” You were fully standing up, hands planted on the table.

“Language! You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“But I do, don’t I? Right, father? I know everything,” you gave him a challenging look, which he was not amused with.

“I’m gonna give you five seconds-”

“Don’t bother,” you scooted your chair back, and walked out of the dining room and up the stairs. You just wanted a peaceful and relaxing night, but you got the exact opposite.

You were headed up the stairs, quickly, furious and frustrated at your father. Stomps on the hard floor were heard that you didn’t even hear the footsteps following behind you.

“Hey,” the voice you recognized was Chris’, and you felt your arm slightly being yanked by him, causing you to stop walking. You turned around, immediately taking your arm out of his hold.

“Don’t touch me or ever grab me like that,” you said, and he thinks it’s the most serious tone he’s ever heard out of you.

“Chill, I was gonna see if you were okay after that-”

“Well, don’t! I never asked for you to check up on me, and stop grabbing me like that--I’ve told you a million times. It’s annoying, not cute,” you rolled your eyes. You were right in front of your bedroom door and you just wanted to go inside and be over with the day, but of course, Chris keeps talking.

“Would you stop being a bitch for once? I don’t understand why we can’t be civil with each other, I’m working with your father,” he said, voice slightly raised, but you don’t let it get to you.

“The only reason why I can’t be civil with you is because I can’t stand being around you. And guess who messed that up? You did,” you pointed at him. “You’re just like him. Can’t have one person satisfy you. Always wanna sleep around and think you’re forgiven,” you shook your head in disbelief, trying not to let the tears cloud your eyes.

It wasn’t like you were still hung up on the situation, but the thought of being that heartbroken again did not make you feel the best. The feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach was something you did not want to feel again. And you didn’t think you were wrong for wanting to protect your fragile heart. You were strong on the outside; not taking shit from anyone, and you think that’s a strong quality to have. But deep down, you still had your guard up. Physically, you were fine connecting with people, but emotionally, it was necessary to protect yourself.

“C’mon, baby, it was one time,” you cringed at the name.

“First, don’t call me baby. I mean it. Second, one time was enough. I’ve witnessed it--still witnessing it with my mother staying with my father when he cheats time and time again. That ‘one time’ shouldn’t have even happened. Now, leave me alone and get out of my house.” You walked into your room, but before you were about to shut the door, he placed a hand on it, stopping you from closing it.

“Y’know, maybe we can just have a little fun. Hate fuck all the anger out of each other. Maybe it’ll help get that stick out of your ass,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes in disgust and annoyance.

“Don’t worry, I have better places to go other than you.”

With that you slammed the door in his face, knowing exactly where you could go to destress.

just a glimpse of what their lives look like! CHAPTER TWO IS COMING ON AUGUST 21!

taglist babies: @froggystyles @outofsstyles @whoschantel @4592222 @groovybaybee @bfharry @wellbafineline @tfonty @bfilipa52 @afire-hes @thorsangel @brrilliant-harry @apples2019

#cloud nine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles ff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #boyfriend!harry #actor!harry #harry #harry styles #hs #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept

[drxwsyni]

Willing ︱Yandere Dabi x f!Reader

@riarora asked: “Could you do yandere Dabi x reader where the reader is one of those people who reads yandere fanfic and knows almost everything, including how to get out, but she doesn’t want to, cause it’s weirdly her dream?”

a/n: ahh yes some good ol’ self awareness. thanks for the request bby, i really liked writing this!

warnings: violence, swearing, kidnapping, suggestive themes

(2.5k words)

_____

It wasn’t hard to tell where Dabi’s intentions lied.

You’d spent more than enough time indulging yourself in mindless scrolling, reading piece after piece pertaining to a certain genre. One that in reality wasn’t the healthiest, but my god was it ever alluring.

Maybe you were lonely, or just apathetic to the red flags that this behaviour presented. Either way, the developing relationship you had with the man was one that you were all too familiar with.

At first it wasn’t obvious―you disregarded his actions as him shamelessly flirting. Dabi had a habit of pushing your buttons, getting you flustered and squirming under his gaze. You could tell he was enjoying himself, seeing what his words did to you.

Once he got bored of the verbal sentiments it moved on to something much more physical. An arm lazily draped around your shoulder, a grip on your chin forcing you to look at him when you turned away in embarrassment. He seemed to enjoy the temporary fear he placed in you when he came up behind you only to wrap his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you firmly into his chest. Every time he did it took you a moment to register the guilty party, but one glance down at the semi-scarred arms and you knew exactly who had scooped you up. If that wasn’t enough, the hot breath against the shell of your ear as he greeted you would do the trick.

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed it was just his personality. The teasing nicknames and lingering stares could be seen as endearing for the most part.

It was when certain attributes bled into the relationship were you able to pick up on the motivation behind his mannerisms.

He had a temper―that much was obvious.

It was never a problem until you idly mentioned in passing conversation that you were saving up money to move away for college. He just...stopped. You thought he didn’t hear you, but not a moment later and he was laughing at you.

“The fuck do you need college for doll? You know that shit is a fucking scam.”

To be fair you never thought he’d have such a strong opinion. As far as you knew you were just some side chick he’d like to mess with when he was bored.

“Well I can’t just keep a dead end job forever. I’d like to move on eventually―meet new people, make better money, y’know…”

The two of you were at his apartment, your back turned to him as you made something to drink in the kitchen. You jumped slightly as one arm wrapped around your waist, the other coming to rest atop the counter in front to you.

His frame leaned into yours, your hip bones digging into the countertop. “What, so you’re just gonna abandon me for some shitty frat boys and student debt?”

The idea almost made you laugh. He was partly correct―the piling debt wouldn’t be fun, but you would have to deal with it just like every other student. As for the college hookups, well it wasn’t something you had actually thought about. You were feeling bold tonight, thinking that perhaps he should get a taste of his own teasing medicine. “Aw, you're not jealous of a few college goers, are you Dabi?”

The hand that was placed on the countertop came to drift towards your face, moving a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. “No need to be jealous of people who I know I’m better than sweets. Just worried about a pretty little thing like you getting hurt is all.”

You smiled at his concern, “I’m sure I can fend for myself, thank you very much.”

The grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly. “Can you though?”

“I don’t―”

“You can barely fucking handle when I mess with you.”

You turned around at the statement, slightly offended, coming face to face with his cold scowl. “Well maybe they won’t be as rude to me.”

At that Dabi’s lips formed into a smirk. “Oh, you think I’m being rude? You’ve got no idea what those little shits might get up to.”

His gaze was piercing, something you could never look at for a long time. You dropped your head slightly and averted your eyes to something else in the room to distract you. “I’ll never know if I don’t go, not like there’s much holding me back here anyways.”

The sudden feeling of Dabi gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger was momentarily jarring. It forced you to look up at his as he spoke, his other arm still pulling you close into his chest. “So you’re gonna let a bunch of strangers put their filthy little hands all over you? Not sure I like the sound of that princess.”

The closeness flooded your senses with the smell of smoke and cologne. You tried to put some distance between the two of you, but the counter was still pressed firmly into your back leaving no room for escape. “I’m not saying that―I just don’t see myself having a future here. I’ve gotta move on eventually.”

He gave a laugh in response, but it was closer to an exasperated huff. “Nah, fuck that. College is a waste of time, and I’m all the goddamn company you need if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Listen, as boring as sitting through lectures sounds, I'll take it over my lame ass job any day. And no offence but you do tend to give me headaches with all the shit you put me through.” You made an attempt to move out of his grasp, but you were only met with him pushing you back into the counter quite roughly.

“You’re not going to fucking college.” He was still smirking, but the look in his eyes that was normally vibrant seemed...empty.

Well this wasn’t the turn of events you were expecting.

You liked to think you were a strong person, but his persistence in the matter was unnerving to say the least. “That’s not your decision to make.”

He laughed at your attempt to sound confident, “I can do whatever the fuck I want princess.”

His cocky attitude could almost make you scoff, if it weren’t for the subtle feeling that maybe, just maybe you shouldn’t push him.

...But where’s the fun in that?

“Whatever, I’m sure you can find someone else to annoy.” You turned back around to keep working on the abandoned drink, leaving him to settle his hands on your waist.

“There is nobody else.”

That made you feel a little better, having assumed he only kept you around for entertainment purposes before moving on to something―someone―more serious. But at the same time it was concerning―what was so special about you to him? “Well that’s too bad, I’m not staying here because some asshole is lonely.”

Dabi appeared to be amused with your attitude, hearing the low chuckle from behind you. He went back to having his arms wrapped around you from behind, leaning the side of his head up against yours.. “Aw, you sure dollface? I’ve heard I can be very convincing, bet I could get you to stay somehow.”

You shook your head at his response, “Doubt it. You’d have to do something pretty big to keep me here.”

“Well, I do have my ways sweetheart. Just not so sure you’d agree with what I have in mind.”

Threatening, but not explicit.

“That’s comforting.” This time when you moved to escape his grasp he let you, drink in hand while heading towards the living room couch. You settled on to the worn out cushions, sending Dabi a glare as he used your lap as a footrest when he draped his body across the free expanse of the seating.

Without another word on the subject he chose a movie, letting the room fall into a peaceful absence of conversation.

_____

It was only in your nature to reflect on that encounter with the scarred man, given your expanse of knowledge in regards to the certain kind of behaviour he briefly held.

To be honest it was the first time he showed any real commitment to your questionable relationship. The first time he made it clear that you were his sole focus.

It was nice, but you couldn’t help but pick up on the red flags.

He was a villain. An extremely powerful one at that. He’d mercilessly slaughtered countless people―surely that had some effect on his psyche? If there was any evidence for that, it was this. Nobody with his history just implies something so vaguely ominous without being serious.

But you would never know how serious he was if you didn’t do a little more prodding on the subject.

Just to be on the safe side, you didn’t tempt him with anything that’d make him specifically pissed over one person. If he truly was the person you thought, then you’d have to avoid being the reason he killed someone.

Instead, you took the passive route.

By now you’d given him your phone number, or rather he forced you, saying he would stop teasing you if you did so. Of course he didn’t stop, but that was behind you now.

After that night he seemed a little more...insistent. Usually Dabi wasn’t very talkative, but now he’d taken a liking to keeping up with you through text.

Sometimes it was just idle conversation, but it always had something to do with what you were doing: where you were, who you were with. The talks were still short, but he made the point to ask nonetheless. It gave you the perfect opportunity to push his buttons.

You wouldn’t answer him right away, or you’d be vague with your responses to his interrogative questions. The endeavour to irritate him did little at first, but the more you persisted, the more he got attached to you, the demanding side of his personality started to bleed into your life.

He’d get angry with you for ignoring him. Dabi wouldn’t obsessively spam you with texts―no, he preferred the few he did send to simply disturb you into replying. Warning you that this wouldn’t end well for you. That he knew you were ignoring him. That he’d make you regret acting so stuck up.

Should you have heeded these blatant warning signs? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Yet as time passed and he only got worse, the more you wanted to see just how far he’d be willing to go.

In hindsight, the idea wasn’t the best. You really were going to move away for college, start a new life, maybe meet that special someone.

But Dabi had other plans.

As much as you thought you were being delicate with his temper, his destructive practices proved that everything you had done to avoid violence was in vain.

You should have seen it coming.

He could’ve killed you―should’ve killed you―but he knew this was what he needed. You were what he needed. And the prospect of watching you slip out of his grasp wasn’t something he was ready for. But you were ready for it, and that was the problem. 

So Dabi smoked you out of the only place you could call home, along with destroying anything that’d keep you living with any semblance of independence.

The putrid smell of burning materials and, what you prayed wasn’t searing flesh, was the first to hit your senses. You were awake at the ungodly nightly hour the menace chose to send your apartment complex up in flames. If it weren’t for that you were convinced you would have perished in the fire. But Dabi probably planned for that, much like he probably planned for you to be forced out of the only exit that wasn’t being slowly cremated.

Out of the back exit and right into his arms, all the while you were still choking on the air that was riddled with deadly smoke just a few seconds ago. But he didn’t care, not when he had to stifle your screams with his hand, his other arm wrapped around your lower half, pulling you away from the complex where emergency first responders wouldn’t find you.

He let you look at the building that was gradually succumbing to the devastating effects of his quirk. You knew why he was doing it, but it still scared you.

“You see baby, this is what happens when you don’t listen to me. Take a good look at it, cause you’re never fucking comin’ back here again.” His voice was devoid of empathy, but why would he care in the first place? If anything, he was having fun with the matter.

It was your fault, you’d forced his hand. He wanted to be patient with you. Let you come to him.

But no, you had to piss him off. You deserved this for how much you put him through.

Maybe it was the lingering effects of the smoke that was making you lightheaded. Or perhaps the constricting feeling of Dabi’s arm wrapped around your throat. Realistically, it didn’t matter which was the final nail in your coffin. Soon enough you were passed out, body limp and defenceless in his arms to do whatever he pleased.

And so, when you finally came to, your predicament did not come as a surprise.

A chain wrapped around your ankle, secured firmly into the floor. You laid haphazardly on a bed in what you already knew to be Dabi’s old, fairly run down apartment.

He didn’t bother to wait for you to wake up, just leave you alone in the cold room to figure out what had happened.

But you were very aware of the situation.

This is what you wanted, right?

You pushed him. And now he was pushing back.

Out of pure instinct you gravitated towards yanking at the chains, doing anything to loosen them. Only after a few minutes of doing so you remembered just how you’d done your hair that day. Nothing special, but adorned with a few bobby pins.

And yet, when you removed one to pick at the lock, you stopped. Out of curiosity you taught yourself how to use the makeshift key to open such a device, but what was the point?

He’d only track you down if you got out. And judging by his character he wouldn’t be against some less than comfortable forms of punishment. It was clear that he wouldn’t hesitate to burn down anyone or anything in his way either. 

And when you spent so much time tempting him to do exactly this, why would you ruin it?

It wasn’t healthy, but it proved how much you meant to him. In an equally disturbing and endearing way, he cared about you. More than anyone else had cared about you before. College plans be damned, you could settle for this at least for the time being.

So you put the pins back in your hair, laying back against the firm mattress.

You didn’t entirely know what Dabi had in store for you, but that made it only the more intoxicating.

Eventually you heard the telltale heavy footsteps approaching the locked bedroom door.

You should’ve been scared. You should’ve been fighting tooth and nail to escape your bindings. But as the sound got louder, and the locks on the door shifted open, you could only think of one thing.

It was dangerous, but you still wanted to know the extent of his pent up desires. And subsequently, how you had to play your cards to reveal these traits without getting yourself or anyone else killed.

But no matter what happened, you wanted this.

#yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere mha #yandere

[just-some-fiction]

Just You and Me Part 36

Hey everyone, I'm trying to get the last few chapters up this weekend before Season 4 starts. I added something in this part that's super important and is an issue we see at times in the health science community and that's the abusive or dominant trait of certain professionals. It's something that happens quite a lot in rural areas as well.

Xx

Rio didn't get jealous. He was aware that he had a possessive streak, but he didn't get jealous. However, when he noticed Lucia spending a lot of time with one of the guys at work, he didn't like it. It wasn’t that he didn’t  trust her, or that he thought she’d be unfaithful. They’ve been through enough to know the other was all in. What bothered him was the idea that another man thought it was appropriate to show interest in someone who was obviously unavailable. The idea of someone else taking her out for lunch or sharing any first with her that he should, grated on him like nothing else ever would. This dawned on him one day a few weeks after they got married.

"Wanna go eat?" he asked her one afternoon, kissing her cheek, "we could go to that new place you wanted to go to," they haven't spent time together in a while, both of them busy with their respective jobs. 

She scrunched her nose, "Nah it's cool," placing her hands on his chest, "they weren't that great."

"You been already?" she nodded, "You go with Chuck?" he wrapped his arms around her waist as she got all the ingredients assembled for her famous hot chocolate. 

"Uh no," she reached behind her to cup his neck, her fingers grazing against the inked skin, "I went with Jake from work," she shrugged, "he heard me talking bout wanting to go so he suggested we go."

Rio raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, simply licking his lip. He let it slide this time, instead pulling his wife close and kissing her neck while she got their hot chocolate ready. However, there was a tiny part of his brain that was sparking with rage at the thought of someone taking her to a restaurant that she wanted to go to. Pushing any murderous thoughts away, Rio focused on her voice as she told him about the food and how some people should rather stick to their roots rather than dive into another cuisine. 

The next time this Jake guy's name popped up was a few weeks later. They were chilling on the couch, Lucia laying between his legs, her head on his chest as they watched a movie. Her one hand tucked under his shirt, tracing the ridges of his torso.  She checked her phone when it went off and laughed. He just happened to see the name on the screen and he felt something stir in him. 

"What's up mama?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"Nothing," she chuckled, "just my colleague sending me a meme," she showed him and he forced a laugh. The phone was still facing him when a new message popped up and what he read made his blood boil. 'We still on for lunch tomorrow?' 

Pretending like he didn't see anything he waited a few moments before clearing his throat, "Wanna go eat somewhere tomorrow mami?" 

"Sure," she said, "I'll reschedule my lunch plans I had for tomorrow," she squeezed his middle, "you and I haven't gone out for lunch in a while baby," lifting up she kissed him, "we can have sushi and you can entertain me with your killer chopstick skills," she teased him, they both knowing he was useless with chopsticks.

"Hey now," he stroked her cheek, "I might be useless with chopsticks but my fingers sure are talented in other skills," to emphasise this, his one hand slid down and kneaded her ass, causing her to gasp in surprise. Lucia laughed, moved higher up and smothered his lips with hers. 

When he picked her up for lunch the next day, Rio noticed a guy glaring at the car, before his facial expression brightened up and he waved at someone. A few moments later, the passenger seat opened and Lucia climbed in. He chanced a glance at the guy once more and noticed him snapping a picture of his number plate - he saved that in the back of his mind for later. 

“Hey papi,” Lucia leaned over and kissed him, resting her forehead against his for a few moments. 

“Rough morning?” 

“You could say that,” she laughed, “what is up with you gangbangers and always aiming for the stomach?” 

He raised an eyebrow at her as they pulled away, “It’s the least effective way to kill someone,” she went on, “aim for the head, the stomach makes the hospital’s job harder,” she stretched slightly, “so many complications to deal with.” 

Rio laughed, “I’ll keep that in mind mama,” kissing the back of her hand. 

Over the next few weeks,  Rio noticed a few things, since he saw that guy snap a picture of the car. Firstly, it was Lucia and her wedding ring. She usually wore it around her neck to work, for hygiene purposes, but recently it’s been glued to her finger. He also noticed she started putting her phone on silent while she was at home, something he was not okay with. 

“Lucia I need to be able to get a hold of you if anything happens,” he told her when she missed three of his calls one evening. 

“I was in the shower baby,” she shrugged. 

One thing that became very apparent was something was spooking her though. She became very jumpy when she was alone for too long. One night Rio came home late and he found her sitting on the couch waiting for him, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Before he knew what was happening, his wife had her legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Hey now,” he chuckled. 

“Where were you?” she mumbled into his neck, “I was worried.” 

That evening, while Lucia fell asleep curled into him, Rio laid awake, thinking over her strange behaviour, when a light caught his eye. Looking over, he noticed her phone screen lighting up with messages. Reaching over he looked at the notifications and frowned, it was an unknown number. 

‘Lucia please return my calls’ 

‘You can’t ignore me forever’ 

‘I know you blocked my other number’ 

Rio put the phone down before he ended up smashing it. Who the fuck was this? Deciding to get to the bottom of this he made a quick phone call. 

“Boss?” Julio answered, “Wassup?” 

“I wake you?” 

“It’s fine,” he heard the doctor yawn on the other side, “something wrong? Anyone hurt?” 

“Nah,” Rio assured him, “we fine,” he sniffed, “I just have a question?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Is Lucia aight at work?” the line went quiet on the other end for a few seconds. 

“She said she told you,” Julio sighed. 

“Told me what Julio?” 

“This guy,” his fellow gang member explained, “he’s sorta interested in her, been asking her out a few times.” 

“Scuse me?”  

“Tried telling him boss that she’s not someone to mess with,” Julio said, “she told him she’s married and I told her she needs to tell you she’s having problems with someone, but you know her boss,” he did. His wife was stubborn through and through. 

“You tell him who she’s married to?” Rio raised an eyebrow while he listened. 

“I did,” Julio admonished, “explained these aren’t people you mess with, ‘specially you,” Julio said, “can still hear Timmy Torez bone snapping that one time in tenth grade.” 

“I never broke no kid’s bone,” Rio defended himself, “I dislocated his fingers that’s all,” he said nonchalantly. 

“Just for taking Lucia to the fair,” Julio reminded him, “the fuck someone as good as Lucia see in you boss?” Julio laughed slightly. 

“Ask her and tell me,” he sighed, “thanks for telling me man.” 

Hanging up, he looked down at his wife. Lucia stirred in her sleep, moving further into him. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he wrapped an arm around her and fell asleep.  

He was waiting for her outside of the hospital, nodding at some of her colleagues as they walked by. Most of the people who worked here or made use of the hospital were people from their world, some in the business while others were simply normal health professionals. This Jake guy wasn't from around town nor was he from the state. This morning he had Mick and Mike do a background check on him. Seems there’s been reports and rumors of sexual harassment at his previous job, which was swept under the rug. The boys were still in the process of getting more dirt on him. 

Lucia smiled as she walked up to him, “Hey.” 

“Sup mama,” he cupped her cheek and kissed her, "ready for lunch baby?" she nodded. He noticed she had her things with her and raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh,” she laughed, “decided to take the afternoon off,” that was something she never did. Deciding now was not the time, he let it slide and took her for lunch, before taking her home, where he somehow remained as well for the rest of the day, submerged in a bathtub full of bubbles and a very handsy wife. 

A few days later things came to a head. Just as Mike walked into his office at the warehouse, hold a print out, Julio called him, “Boss ima send you something the security guard gave me from the security cameras,” he heard Julio sigh, “you gotta see this.” 

Rio frowned, looking up at Mick, who looked as though he wanted to be anywhere, but there with him, “Uh you gotta see this,” Mick handed him the printouts, “seems like this guy has a few complaints of sexual misconduct, harassment and stalking, that were swept under the rug a lot,” Mick swallowed, “and it seems like he has a type,” handing him the last page, “this was the last lady who filed a complaint at one of the hospitals in Seattle.” 

Looking at the picture, Rio clenched his jaw. The lady in the picture looked exactly like Lucia. Grabbing his phone he opened the file Julio sent him. It was a grainy image of his wife standing at a workstation filling out paperwork, when someone walked up behind her and decided to grope her. He watched Lucia swing her elbow into the man’s gut and attempt to walk away, only to have him pull her back again. Before he knew what was happening, he somehow got up and made his way out of the office, Mick hot on his heels. 

“Yo,” his right hand man called after him, “what’s the plan here,” by now Mike was with them as well. 

“There’s something else too,” Mike handed him more papers, “turns out this guy googled how to bug a house.”

“Get me that mother fucker,” was all he said, before getting into his car. That afternoon, before Lucia got home, he got Cisco and Dags to do a sweep of the studio apartment and find any recording devices. They found one in the shower, one hidden in Lucia’s beside lamp and one in her underwear drawer. The last one was the one that really set RIo off, taking the devices and crushing them in his hands.  When Lucia came home, he didn't say anything about the video or the debugging.

"Hey baby," he smiled at her. As he wrapped his arms around her, he noticed her flinch slightly and he had to force himself to keep calm. Ima kill this man, he thought. Lucia pulled him close and said nothing, burying her nose into his neck and inhaling. 

"Are you sniffing me ma?" he chuckled. 

"Mhm," she sighed and inhaled again, "you smell like home baby."

Rio said nothing, simply swaying them gently from side to side. Later on, Lucia told him about the incident at work and he listened, not saying anything about Julio sending the video. He simply pulled her towards him and stroked her hair as they laid on the couch. There was no way he was going to let this slide. Some asshole, with a sketchy history was making his wife feel unsafe at her place of work - a place that she loved - and he was not gonna back down from this. 

"I'll take care of it, aight," he stated and he felt her sigh against him, "mama I know you don't like me jumping in on your problems, but i gotta with this one."

"Fine," she replied, closing her eyes as he massaged her scalp, enjoying the feeling of his long fingers threading through her hair. Soon her eyelids became heavy and she was dozed off. The last thing she felt was Rio placing a kiss on her forehead. 

Jake was currently sitting in front of Rio, his eyes darting around the warehouse, searching for an escape route. Mick and Mike brought him in with a black sack over his head, his hands tied and a gag in his mouth. The asshole was red in the face when the sack was lifted, pupils dilated and his breathing shallow. There was a slight tremor in his body too. 

“Now boys,” Rio grinned when they set him down in the chair, “is this how we treat our guests?” he laughed. 

“He’s a doctor after all, does good for his community,” Rio gave the man a hard stare, “we should treat him with a bit more dignity and whatnot.” 

Mick removed the gag and pretty soon Jake started babbling, “Please,” he sputtered, “I’ll do anything.” 

Rio smirked at the other two, he was going to enjoy this. He knew men like this. He’s killed men like this quite a few times. Men like this guy hid behind the prestige of their professions and titles, while bullying and harming others. However, behind the money and titles, they were spineless weasels who needed to be euthanized. 

“Oh I think you’ve done enough,” Rio chuckled, pulling the broken bugs out of his pocket he presented them to Jake, “over enough.” 

He watched as the realisation dawned over Jake as to who he was, “Yeah,” he sniffed in disdain, “seems like we have a problem,” his eyes went cold. 

“So what all you see with these,” he motioned to his closed fist that contained the bugs.

“Nothing,” Jake whimpered. 

“Nah man,” Rio laughed, shaking his head, “these things were placed in some very specific places in my home and amongst my wife’s things,” he moved closer, “so ima ask you again,” this time his voice went low, “what did you see?” 

By now Jake was paralysed with fear, “He don’t wanna say boys,” Rio looked over at Mick and Mike, “lucky for us you got the footage when you cleared his house right?” 

“Right here,” Mick produced a flashdrive.

“Thanks man,” Rio took the flash drove and plugged it into a laptop on the table next to him, “boys wait outside for a few moments please.” 

Flipping through the videos, Rio felt the rage start to bubble up inside of him, there were videos of her in the shower, some of them doing mundane things at home and a few of them in bed together. One thing he was relieved about was that there was nothing incriminating caught on camera. It seemed as though the cameras were timed to go on whenever she was at home. The last video he scanned through, was what set him into action. It was of the two of them making love a few nights ago, all you could see were their torsos, due to Lucia having knocked the lamp over in her haste to get on top of him that night. He watched as his wife came on top of him, her body shuddering. 

Switching off the laptop, he pulled the flash out and crushed it under his foot. Standing up, he slammed the laptop shut and struck it against Jake’s head. It took a few more hits, before the body stopped twitching, but at the end, the scumbag was dead. He called Mick and Mike back in for clean up. 

“Damn Rio,” Mike whistled. 

“You two clean up the apartment?” he ignored Mike. 

“Made it look as though he just left,” Mick confirmed. 

“Good.” 

That night RIo walked into his home, however, it felt like anything but home at that point. Lucia was standing in the kitchen area, making something to eat when he walked in. He still had blood on his hand but he didnt care, he pulled her towards him and held her. 

“We're packing up tomorrow baby,” he murmured into her hair.

“What?” he proceeded to tell her about the bugging and the videos. Lucia didn’t waste anytime and started packing. Lucky for them, he already had a nice three bedroom place in mind uptown that he secured that afternoon. By the end of the week they moved into their new place, where they’d eventually raise their son for a few years. 

#Rio good girls #Rio nbc #Good girls NBC #Nbc good girls #Just me and you #Lucia x rio #Lucia Solano #Johnny x Lucia #Mike Graceland #Mick good girls

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

been thinking ‘bout your touch

ao3!

Summary: 3 times Logan initiates contact, and one time his family returns the favor Warnings: character overworking themself, a brief mention of the American Civil War/slavery, Inside Out spoilers (specifically Bing Bong’s storyline) Wordcount: 3501

Logan walked into the commons and promptly forgot what he’d gone in there for, instead walking over to the couch and hugging a softly crying Patton.

“Oh!” Patton said, startled. “Hey, Logan!”

“Hello, Patton.”

Patton hugged Logan back, sinking into the contact for a moment before starting to pull away. Logan held on.

“Everything okay, kiddo?”

“I am fine, thank you. Studies show it takes 20 seconds of physical contact for endorphins to be released, so I am attempting to provide that.”

“Ooookay?”

“You were crying when I entered the room.” Was Patton not aware of that?

“Oh!” Patton said. He pushed on Logan’s shoulders gently, moving far enough back to initiate eye contact. “Logan, I’m watching Inside Out.”

Logan let go of the hug and turned to look at the TV. It was indeed playing Inside Out, the little joy and sadness characters on screen. He turned back to Patton, ready to ask why this mattered, but Patton beat him to it.

“Bing Bong just died. It was sad, but I’m fine.”

Oh.

“I see.” Logan cleared his throat and stood up, hoping he didn’t look as foolish as he felt. “I’m glad you’re alright—”

“Wanna stay and finish the movie with me?” Patton looked up at him hopefully. He’d pulled out his so-called “puppy dog eyes.” This was unfair.

“Wellllll,” Logan hedged, still embarrassed. “I should probably go back to work…”

“Please?” This was definitely unfair.

Logan sighed and sat down beside Patton, trying to squash his smile.

“Yay!” Patton cheered, scooching over to wrap Logan in a hug and settle into his side.

Logan didn’t think he was successful in hiding his grin.

Virgil, Logan had noticed, tended to hole up in his room often. He came out for meals and movie nights, and sometimes would sit in the living room, and even on occasions socialize, but more often than not he was in his room.

As none of them were permitted inside Virgil’s room for very long—anxiety overloading their functions and all that—spending so much time in there could not be conducive to getting very much physical contact, even factoring in Patton’s apparent mission to hug Virgil at least once in every encounter between the two of them. As sides, they did not technically need physical contact, just as they did not technically need food or sleep, but it was better for Thomas and for themselves if they got all three in healthy amounts.

Virgil, Logan was quite sure, was not getting a healthy amount of touch.

He aimed to remedy this.

So the next time Logan found Virgil sitting in the living room, he grabbed a book and joined him. Luckily, Virgil was sprawled out on the couch, instead of in one of the armchairs or in some other spot where seeking physical contact with him might’ve been difficult.

“May I join you?” Logan asked, nodding to the spot on the couch where Virgil’s head lay.

“Oh, uh, sure,” Virgil said awkwardly, sitting upright.

“Thank you.” He settled into his spot and found his place in the book. Starting to read, he informed Virgil, “If you wish to lay back down, I would not be opposed.”

“Uh, alright.” Virgil carefully settled his head in Logan’s lap.

About a chapter later, Logan realized Virgil had relaxed into his position on top of Logan, which gave him the courage to ask, “Would it be alright if I settled a hand in your hair?”

Virgil tilted his head back to look at Logan. “Why?”

“My arm’s growing a bit tired from being held up. If it makes you uncomfortable, though, I can certainly figure something else out.”

“Nah,” Virgil told him, tilting his head forward again. “Go ahead.”

Logan gingerly places his hand on Virgil’s head, letting his fingers tangle slightly in his hair before turning back to his book.

He’d reached the climax and so had gotten caught up in the story for the next several chapters, enough to completely forget his surroundings. So it was a while before he realized that he’d started mindlessly playing with Virgil’s hair. Virgil had completely relaxed in his lap and seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep.

Logan smiled at the sight, and at the success of his plan, and turned back to his book, making sure he didn’t disturb Virgil as he did so.

“Logan!” Roman hollered, stretching out the name as he hurtled down the stairs.

“Yes?”

“I’m bored,” Roman groaned, flopping in the chair beside Logan’s theatrically. “Do you have any quests to complete?” On principle, Logan didn’t particularly care to attempt to entertain any bored sides that came his way for amusement. He was a busy side, after all, and didn’t have time to waste over someone else’s lack of stimulation. 

He still didn’t particularly care about Roman’s boredom this time around, but as his work was completed, he figured it couldn’t hurt to at least talk with Roman.

“Alas,” Roman sighed, bringing a hand up to his forehead and closing his eyes, “I completed all my recent ones yesterday, and I have no inspiration to make more. So I am completely and utterly out of things to do…” He trailed off, a hint of something in his tone that suggested he wanted Logan to ask something of him. 

After a moment Roman cracked an eye open to squint at him, confirming the theory. Logan, lacking any idea what he wanted, raised an eyebrow.

“...Unless, of course, someone were interested in my daring exploits,” Roman continued pointedly, closing his eyes again and somehow posing more.

“It’s ‘was,’ not ‘were.’” Boredom was no excuse for bad grammar.

“So that I might then enthrall them with the tales of my valor.” Roman swatted at Logan with his free hand.

Logan sighed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, Roman, would you please tell me all about your amazing quests.”

“I would be delighted to!” Roman grinned, springing up from his chair. “It all began two days ago, when I was attempting to blend in among the populace—”

“Do you need to be facing me to tell me this?” Logan interrupted. Maybe it was rude, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been cut off himself many times before, and anyway, better to cut in at the start then wait until some point in the middle.

“I suppose not.” Roman frowned at him. “Why’d you ask?”

“I’d like to braid your hair while I listen, if you don’t mind.” Otherwise he’d just be sitting there, hands idle.

“Oh!” Roman brightened. “Go ahead!”

Logan nodded and moved to sit cross legged on the couch, gesturing to the space in front of him. Roman snatched up a couple pillows and arranged them in a kind of throne in front of Logan, plopping on top of them and wiggling around in an extravagant attempt at getting comfortable.

“Okay,” he declared after a minute. “So. My cover was blown in a matter of minutes when a young boy approached me and insisted he needed my help…”

As he listened, Logan wove little cornrows into Roman’s hair and conjured tiny hair bands to tie them off as he finished them.

“...And the townsfolk were grateful enough to throw a party in my honor! Though unfortunately I got summoned soon after it started, but whatever! Spending time with you guys is better than with imagined people I don’t really know,” Roman finished, doing a little flourish with his hands. He turned to face Logan. “So, what’d you think?”

“I think you need to stay still so I can finish this braid,” Logan told him, clutching onto the strands of hair he’d been in the middle of weaving together. 

Roman huffed, but faced forward again. “So?”

“You did a great job and told it eloquently. I particularly liked the part with the bull, and the imagery with the puzzle.”

“Thank you!” Logan could hear the smile in his voice.

“You’re welcome.” He conjured a final hair band and twisted it around the ends of the braid. “There.”

Roman instantly jumped up, twisting around to grin at Logan as he sang, “Your turn!”

“My turn?”

“I wanna do your hair now,” Roman said, pouting a little.

“You being the one to both talk and braid hair doesn’t give me anything to do, though,” Logan pointed out. “That was kind of the point of me braiding your hair.”

“Then you talk!”

“I haven’t gone on any quests, though.”

“Then tell me about a book you’ve read!” Roman supplied easily. “Any clever twists and turns you didn’t see coming? Plot holes that could’ve been easily fixed? Surely there must be something you want to talk about.”

“Well… “ Logan slowly slid onto Roman’s pillow throne. 

Roman bounced onto the spot where Logan had been. “It’s settled, you’ve gotta tell me now!”

Logan huffed, rolling his eyes. “Very well.”

“Explain that plot, my good nerd!” Roman tilted Logan’s head back slightly to start a braid at the crown of his hair.

“The book begins with the characters…”

Logan knew it was his own fault.

He knew he was overworking himself, barely remembering to eat and sleep to help keep Thomas healthy and hardly coming out of his room. It’d been this way for a few weeks, since he’d picked up this project. And he knew he didn’t have to be working this hard, didn’t technically have to do this project at all, but here he was, carrying on by telling himself he’d just finish this one part— (But there was always another part following it, and then he had to finish that part too, and so on and so on.

He’d… he’d finish it eventually.)

So Logan knew it was his own fault he wanted a hug so badly, but that didn’t stop the yearning.

Logan leaned back in his chair, looking over the work he’d finished and mentally calculating how long it would take to complete the rest. If he kept working at the pace he’d been working at… about two days?

He could do two days. Anyone could do two days; a child could do two days. Two days, and then he’d be done, and he’d let himself go ask for a hug.

Two days and then a hug, he repeated as he leaned forward again, picking up his pencil and resuming his work.

It didn’t end up being two days.

First, he’d nearly fallen asleep at his laptop, and in his startle awake he’d accidentally deleted a big chunk of his work that’d needed to be recalculated and typed out. Then he’d made a mistake in his written work, and so had to comb through everything he’d already done to find it and then replace all the work after it.

So it was a week later that he realized his ‘two days’ had come and gone three times over, and he still hadn’t finished (or gotten a hug). If anything, he might’ve been set back in his work from when he’d promised himself that.

He sighed and looked at the clock. 7:23, and him using military time meant he’d stayed up all night again.

Logan was debating whether or not he should go get some food, maybe try to sleep, when someone gently pulled his chair away from the desk, hands on his shoulders. He startled.

“Logan,” Patton whispered, breath hot against his ear. “You need a break.”

Logan sighed and nodded. “I do.”

“Then let’s get you one.” Patton let go of his shoulders, and Logan barely had time to mourn the loss before Patton was taking his hands and heaving him up from the chair. The leather made a ripping sound as his legs unstuck.

“Definitely need a break,” Patton said decidedly. “Have you had breakfast yet?” Logan shook his head. “Then we’ll start there!”

Logan smiled fondly as Patton tugged him downstairs and into the kitchen. Virgil was on the counter, looking up from his phone as they arrived.

“Hey, Logan,” he smirked, though his eyes looked a little too relieved for his expression to seem genuine. “Long time, no see.”

“I’ve been… absorbed in this project.” The way he said it made it almost sound like an apology, though that was ridiculous. Nothing about that sentence was an apology. (It was, kind of, an apology.)

Virgil nodded and patted the counter space beside him. “Sit with me while Pat makes breakfast?”

“Sounds like a great idea!” Patton declared, squeezing Logan’s hands and clapping him on the back before turning and pulling out pans and ingredients.

Logan pushed himself onto the counter, looking over as Virgil tilted his screen towards him. He was watching what seemed like a conspiracy video, captions on and sound turned off. It appeared to be claiming the Civil War was some personal feud between a couple influential people, instead of about slavery. (It was, of course, a white person talking animatedly on screen.) Logan rolled his eyes at the idea, but watched anyway, occasionally murmuring contradictions to what the video was saying.

After it ended, Virgil pulled up another conspiracy video, looking over at Logan. He nodded, and Virgil pressed play, leaning against Logan’s side as the video started.

Logan very carefully did not stiffen, not wanting to scare Virgil away, and slowly relaxed into the touch. Virgil was warm against his side, and he soaked up that heat gratefully.

They watched about an hour’s worth of conspiracy videos, with Patton puttering around the kitchen as pleasant background noise. Logan could’ve easily watched for another hour, but biscuits, bacon, and eggs didn’t keep very well, and Logan was hungry. It was only with minor reluctance that he took his seat at the table.

“Roman! Breakfast!”

Logan heard more than saw Roman clattering downstairs, chair facing away from the steps. There was the thundering of feet, a thump that sounded more like he’d jumped the last few stairs then fallen, and—a gasp?

“You’ve escaped!” Roman cried, and Logan twisted in his chair to see what he was talking about just in time to be engulfed in a hug.

After a moment, Roman released him, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, I should’ve—”

“Roman.” Logan hoped the waver in his voice wasn’t too prominent to the others. “Come here and hug me properly.”

Roman lit up, bending down in a sort of squat as Logan twisted to sit sideways in his chair, so that they met in the middle and melted into a hug. (Logan clung perhaps a bit more tightly than he would’ve admitted. He’d missed this.)

After a minute Logan made himself pull back. “My apologies, that couldn’t have been a comfortable position to hold for so long.”

“I don’t care,” Roman assured him. “Don’t worry, I would’ve pulled away sooner if it was bothering me—Zeus, it’s so good to see you; do you even realize how long you’ve been locked up in your room?”

“A month and two days,” Logan said quietly. “Technically, just three days, as that was the last time I’d come out of my room to get food, but—thirty-two days.”

“What were you even doing in there?”

“I’ve been working to try and come up with a better way to manage Thomas’s finances, as well as trying to figure out his taxes. I know it’s unnecessary, especially to the degree I’ve been doing so, but…” But what? He couldn’t stop working? Preposterous; he could’ve, he’d just chosen not to, and then lost track of time and kept going until it had devolved into somehow being locked in his room for a month.

“Well, then!” Roman set a hand on Logan’s shoulder and it ached, almost, with how good it felt. (Logan might’ve become touch starved. He’d acknowledged that a while ago and kept working.) “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses and put a pause on it!”

“Actually,” Patton broke in. “I pulled him away for a break. He probably would’ve kept working if I hadn’t come in.” His tone was breezy, but there was a judgmental edge to it that indicated Patton had stronger opinions than he was voicing.

“I agreed with you that I needed a break,” Logan pointed out defensively. “I was actually thinking of getting some food when you came in.”

Patton hummed in an ‘if you say so’ sort of way.

“And, lemme guess—after breakfast you’ll go back to work?” Roman asked, shifting his weight.

“I—” Logan hadn't actually decided on whether he would or not.

“The answer here is ‘no,’ L,” Virgil said gently. “Don’t bother fighting it.”

Logan sighed. “Then I suppose I’m not going back to work after breakfast.”

“Good,” Roman declared, plopping down in his seat like that emphasized his point.

They ate, and there was a pause afterwards where Roman, Patton, and Virgil were all taking care of things and Logan was alone in the kitchen. He debated going back to his room—he’d said he wouldn’t, but he didn’t really know what else to do and no one was here to stop him—but Patton popped up and pushed him into the commons with a “Help set up!”

“Set up?”

“For the movie,” Virgil said, appearing beside Logan and hooking arms with him, pulling him along. “Roman’s getting blankets, so I need you to help me find The Aristocats before he can rig the vote.”

“Rig the vote? Roman?” Logan deadpanned. “Blatant slander and defamation; he would never.” Virgil snorted, and Logan wasn’t sure if the warmth he felt was from their proximity or… probably just the proximity.

“I know, right,” Virgil joked. “But this way, it’s two against one and so he can’t complain.” He dropped to his knees in front of the movie cases. Their arms were linked loosely enough that Logan could’ve chosen to slip out of his grip and remain standing, but he let himself kneel beside Virgil.

They flipped through the cases (and regrettably had to unlink arms to do so, but they were sitting close enough their thighs were pressed against each other, and Logan found he didn’t miss the contact too much), and pulled out The Aristocats right as Roman thundered down the stairs, laden with blankets and pillows.

“Careful!”

“Not to worry, Pat, I’m fine!” Roman declared, hopping past the last two steps and dumping his bounty on the couch. He squinted at Logan and Virgil. “Are you two conspiring? Going behind my back to rig the vote in your favor?”

“Because you’ve never done that,” Virgil snarked at the same time Logan said, “It’s Disney.”

“Disney?” Roman perked up.

“Aristocats,” Virgil told him. “Everybody wants to be a cat, y’know, and last I checked you’re part of everybody.”

“Oooh! We haven’t watched that in a while!”

“Nope.” Virgil popped the p sound. “And that’s why if you try to make us watch another movie first, I’ll steal all your Disney posters and make a collage out of them.”

Roman Gasped Offendedly™. “I didn’t even say anything! I want to watch Aristocats!”

“Just letting you know,” Virgil said.

Roman stuck his tongue out at him and began setting up a blanket fort. Logan went over to help him while Virgil popped the DVD into the player and left to help Patton manage snacks. They came back with a couple bowls of popcorn, several smaller bowls of candy, and a round of mugs. Everyone crawled in, got comfy, and made sure the snacks were within reach.

“Ready?” Virgil asked, prompting various noises of agreement, and then pressed play.

Roman and Logan had arranged the fort so that the couch was technically available for sitting on, but the blankets were low enough they’d be pushed up by one’s head. Virgil solved this problem by draping himself across the couch, head almost beside Logan’s and arm on top of Logan’s head, where Logan could easily hold up the popcorn bowl for him whenever he needed a new handful. (It was maybe slightly inconvenient, but Logan was maybe slightly touch starved, and this method meant Virgil’s arm stayed perched on Logan’s head.)

A few minutes into the movie, Roman shifted around and kicked his legs up to use Logan’s lap as a footstool. Logan retaliated by taking the Skittles from him and placing them on his other side, near Patton. Roman scrunched his face up at him and squirmed around so that his head was in Logan’s lap, and throughout the movie they continued until Roman was almost entirely settled on top of Logan, where he stayed.

About when Duchess met (Abraham DeLacey Giuseppe Casey) Thomas O’Malley, Patton scooched over a little and laid his head on Logan’s shoulder. It was careful, at first, the kind where one could tell the other wasn’t letting the full weight rest on them. But when Logan didn’t react except to put his head on top of Patton’s, he relaxed into it.

By the time the movie had ended, they were a pile of warmth and Logan was at the center of it.

Logan loved his famILY.

#my fics #my writing #sanders sides #platonic LAMP #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #ts roman #i wrote this over a year ago and then went back through and rewrote it a few months ago so if it sounds a little weird that's probably why

[himbowelsh]

Hi! I loooooved your drunk band of brothers hc's so much, could you elaborate more on the pacific and saving private ryan boys? 🥰

oooooohhh dude if you insist

The Pacific

Robert Leckie: The Messy Drunk. Giving Leckie booze is highkey like disco dancing beside a hornet’s nest. You’re going to get stung, and it’s going to be severely unpleasant, you just don’t know how or when. Drunk Leckie...  is that friend. He really can’t be left alone; when out partying, he’s probably fine, but his moods swing from reckless highs to terrifying lows. All his guards are lower, and pent up emotions are quicker to bleed through  ---  because he can’t be assed to hold them back. He’ll drunk-dial his ex and leave a dozen voicemails, or call his mom to tell her how he really feels about his fourteenth birthday party...   and when friends try to step in, suddenly he’s shouting at them. Why? They didn’t do anything...  but Leckie is a mess, and it bleeds all over everything. Safest range for him is comfortably drunk. When he crosses the border into hammered territory, he’s a hazard to himself and others.

Runner Conley: The Energetic Drunk. No one knows what drugs Drunk Runner is on, but he needs to share. Whoa, is he wired. Alcohol is a suppressant, but no one ever bothered to inform him; he gains energy when he’s drunk. He’s the one on the dance floor for hours, busting a move and trying to convince his friends to join in; he’s the one shouting song suggestions and hollering about how it’s his friend’s birthday, hell yeah, pour it out  (it’s not actually Leckie’s birthday, but if it gets them free drinks he’ll roll with it). Runner is very inclined to drunk gymnastics, but should not under any circumstances be allowed to. Other than that, excellent guy to have on a night out.

Chuckler Juergens: The Ladies’ Man. Don’t worry, he’s having a great night. Chuckler’s got a very high tolerance, so he actually keeps his head pretty well; this is good, because he’s got to keep an eye on everyone else, before Runner cartwheels out a plate glass window. He isn’t the Mom Friend Drunk, however...  oh no, Chuckler’s got other things on his mind. Namely, flirting with every cutie in the bar. He’s great at flirting sober, but Drunk Chuckler is absolutely gifted. He’s suave, charming, funny, and no one on earth could tell he’s already had three vodka-and-limes. He spends most of his evening chatting girls up and dancing with them; his friends have to actively drag him away at the end of the night, otherwise he will end up going home with someone. He’s never drunk enough that it’s a bad idea, just drunk enough that he can’t think of a reason not to. After a night out, he finds numbers written on multiple places on his body. Once, someone wrote their number on his abs.

Hoosier Smith: The Dr. Jekyll. Give Hoosier a bottle of whiskey, and he turns into a different person, okay. He’s still...  like, he’s still Hoosier, but this Hoosier grins. With his teeth. This Hoosier will actually dance; he’ll flirt with people for the hell of it  (”for the hell of it” is Drunk Hoosier’s philosophy), he’ll try to talk Runner into gymnastics just so he can film it...  he got a job drunk once. He literally made one phone call, ended up having a twenty-minute conversation, and came back to tell everyone he just got hired as a finance manager. Drunk Hoosier is impressively cool in the face of a crisis; there’s nothing messy about him  (he observes Leckie’s swaying and slurring with disdain). He could probably be coached through first-aid drunk. If you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t be able to tell he’s drunk at all, you’d think he’s just like that.

Sid Phillips: The Impatient Drunk. Does not have time for anyone’s shit, and no longer cares to pretend he does. No one knows why Sid gets so short-tempered when he’s drunk. He’s not like that sober, so the going theory is he just has a lot of pent-up frustration. Now, when buzzed, Sid is a delight. He’s talkative, bubbly, and overall a treat to be around. This is where he should stay. The more he drinks, the progressively less fun the party gets, until he’s glowering at people across the room and shouting at someone for bumping into him. He will not win a bar fight, but he will start one, and not remember a damn thing about it in the morning. By the time Sid’s reached his limit, most of his friends are still just starting, so they’re usually sober enough to cut him off before he gets to that point.

Eugene Sledge: The Snuggly Drunk. He just gets lonely, okay? Liquor makes him morose, and he prefers not to be alone whenever he does choose to indulge. He needs someone there, just to keep him from getting lost in his own thoughts. When out with friends, Drunk Sledge is docile, pretty sweet, but unabashedly clingy. He wants to touch people; he’ll touch their faces, their hair, lean against their shoulders, hug them  (”someone help me,” Drunk Leyden says in abject terror, with Sledge wrapped around his waist)...   he’s just fine as long as there’s someone there to keep him entertained all night. Tell him a story and he’ll listen in silent rapture; give him a phone and let him watch videos, and he’ll be entertained for hours.

Snafu Shelton: The Possessive Drunk. Snafu...  is not a fun drunk to be around. He’s a funny drunk, but this does not make him fun. Drunk Snafu’s idea of fun is not dancing in the club, it’s setting a dumpster on fire. He’s never gotten arrested drunk, but whoa has he come close. So long as he has a more responsible friend to keep him in line, he’s going to “behave”  (and Snafu has a very strict rule that he does not drink alone, for his own good, so there’s usually someone). However, he...  latches onto this person. Like, he acquires them like a $1,000 watch, and refuses to let anyone else near them for the rest of the night. Since Burgie wouldn’t put up with it, this behavior only becomes really apparent with Sledge, because Snafu is fiercely protective of Drunk Sledge. (Drunk Sledge needs to be protected tbh.) He looks after him all night, steals drinks for him, makes sure he’s drinking water and not hugging strange men...  if Drunk Snafu doesn’t have a project, he’s going to commit a felony. Drunk Sledge is a godsend to his criminal record.

RV Burgin: The Hyperfocused Drunk. It’s not safe for him to get drunk, because he has to be the mom friend! He has to keep everyone else from burning the bar down! He knows this, but somehow his friends always end up pushing drinks on him, and next thing he knows, he’s five shots in wondering where rainbows come from. Drunk Burgie has a very one-track mind, and little patience for anything else. He’s not looking after his friends, because he can’t understand why dogs don’t have twins. He’ll discuss this out loud; he’ll crowdsource opinions. Drunk Burgie is actually very outgoing, but no one knows what the hell he’s talking about. His brain goes off in directions no one can follow, and next thing you know he’s trying to get to the library at midnight to see if they have any books about crayfish. (God forbid if he decides he wants fast food; he’ll talk about it for an hour, until someone’s annoyed enough to get it for him.)

Jay De L’Eau: The Giggly Drunk pt deux. He’s such a nice drunk. Everything is funny, and he’s constantly laughing at the dumb jokes and antics of everyone else; he’s less inclined to do the crazy shit, happier just to watch. He’ll stop and ask a stranger if they’re doing okay, or give his last few dollars away just because someone else needed it ---  he’s an angel and everyone’s thrilled that he’s here.

Andrew Haldane: The Bemused Drunk. Okay, he doesn’t drink too much as a rule, because he’s a responsible person, okay...  but Andy is weak to peer-pressure coming from his friends, so when he goes out, he’ll probably end up having a few. Liquor makes him thoughtful, and he’s a placid drunk overall. His reflexes are a lot slower, but he’s content to just sit there, observing everyone or lost in his own thoughts. He’s just...  not totally there. If he puts something down, he will misplace it. If he’s talking to someone, he’ll lose track of the threads of conversation halfway through, and need to be stared back on topic. He doesn’t remember what bar he’s in, what street he’s on, where he lives  ---   he can rattle off sports history facts like he’s reading from a mental wikipedia page, but god help him if he knows where he put his wallet.

Hillbilly Jones: The Responsible Drunk. He doesn’t know how he always ends up looking after everyone else during a night out. It’s not a responsibility he wants. There are at least two people in the group better suited for it. But Andy’s been staring out the window for ten minutes humming to himself, and Burgie is trying to remember what his brother said to him years ago, and Jay is about to give his wallet to a homeless man, damn it  ---  Hillbilly isn’t a big drinker, but liquor lends him a bit more patience. This is a godsend, because somehow he ends up wrangling the whole crew. He makes a good mom friend, keeping them from wandering off and reminding them to drink water, making sure they don’t go too wild...  Hillbilly’s night isn’t over until everyone else has gotten home safe. No, he’s not thrilled he’s gotta be the one to do it, but someone has to.

Gunny Haney: The Stripper. I’m sorry.

John Basilone: The ‘And I’ll Do It Again’ Drunk. He pretends he has a rule where he’d never do anything drunk that he wouldn’t do sober. This is...  almost true. John wouldn’t not start a barfight sober, if given a damn good reason, but he’d think it through a lot more. Drunk John...  does not think things through. Not for a second. He does things without considering the consequences. There’s a thin line with John, between “fun to have at parties” and “needs to be asked to leave”. Usually, he knows better than to drink enough to cross that valley, but when he does...  let’s just say, JP and Manny are banned from a few bars by sheer association.

Lena Riggi: The Careful Drunk. Lena does not have control issues. I’ll say it again, because she needs everyone to know: Lena does not have control issues. But if she’s going to be out of control, it’s no one’s business but her own. She hates the idea of really letting her hair down in front of strangers ---  or worse, casual acquaintances. Which isn’t to say she’s not fun at parties, she just...  minds her alcohol intake. She’s very aware of when she’s getting tipsy, and knows when to stop. She also keeps up with her friends, and is an expert at keeping an eye on them, wrangling them when they wander off or get into trouble. (Basically, she’s the perfect person to rein in Drunk John’s self-destructive tendencies.)

Saving Private Ryan

John Miller: The Depressed Drunk. No, really, this man shouldn’t be allowed to drink. He tries not to, as a rule. He knows his limits. Only on rare occasions does he actually get drunk, and once he does, everyone regret it. He’s...  not fun. He’s not responsible. He’s just sad. He’s got a lot of thoughts, and is clearly working through them right here at the table. He’s been staring at his hands for the past half hour, he won’t talk to anyone, and looks like he’s going to cry. Someone needs to take him home.

Mike Horvath: The Drunk With A Lot of Opinions. He’s a very social drinker, and doesn’t need to know anybody else at the party to have a good time. Mike will talk to anyone. More specifically, he’ll talk at anyone. He’s got a lot to say about the Black Rhino crisis, the 1998 Superbowl, sitcoms that ended 20 years ago... he feels very strongly about these things, and is not accepting dissenting opinions at this time. He won’t pick arguments with people, really, but he won’t shy away from them. Mike’s one rule on a night out is that he Will Not Dance, so he has to do something with his time.

Richard Reiben: The Shouty Drunk. He’s not even shouting at anyone. Reiben isn’t an angry drunk, he’s just loud. His entire drinking philosophy is “turn down for what” and the answer is: nothing. He’s not going to turn down, he doesn’t feel inclined. He doesn’t really dance, just gets excited and fistpumps the air a lot; he thinks drunk sports are a great idea; he’s nicer to people, for some reason, but will also talk their ear off if allowed. If he’s a pain in the ass sober, he’s even worse drunk, because he’s got twice as much to say and no indoor voice to say it with.

Daniel Jackson: The “Dude, Watch This” Drunk. He really doesn’t change that much when drunk, to be honest. Jackson’s got a lot of self-control, and doesn’t overindulge often. When he does drink, he gets a bit chattier, but that’s about it. He prefers not to dance, and will responsibly stop his friends from doing things likely to get them killed...  only to do those things himself, just because he can. He’s drunk vodka out of a broken lightblub; he jumped from an upstairs window into a frozen swimming pool; he stole Horvath’s wallet. The question is not “what won’t he do”, it’s “why would he do this”? He’s not that drunk. He’s never drunk enough to justify anything; he just uses liquor as an excuse to do all the things his sober friends would dissuade him from.

Stanley Mellish: The Karaoke Drunk. He’s actually so much fun to go out drinking with, because he’s having a good time, having a good time  ---  he’s the life of the party. He’s the one standing on tables and riling the bar up; he’s got the best drunk jokes; he always knows when someone needs another drink, and finds one for them. (He made it a special project to get Upham drunk the first time they went out, and was thrilled with the result.) Loves to drunk-sing. If the bar does not have a karaoke stage, Mellish will simply create one.

Adrian Caparzo: The Drunk White Girl. My man completely forgets that he’s over six feet tall and has a pair of brass knuckles in his pocket. Caparzo doesn’t remember exactly why he came out tonight, but he’s out, and he’s had so much vodka, and he just threw up into a potted plant, and his shoes hurt, and now his shoes are off, and he lost a shoe, and where’s Fish, oh my god, they lost Fish --- (Mellish is right behind him, laughing his ass off.) Things get messy. He’s very sweet, however, very liberal with compliments, extremely supportive, and really craving fast food.

Irwin Wade: The Tragic Backstory Drunk. Wade gets a lot more upbeat after he’s had a few drinks; he talks louder, smiles brighter, and really comes out of his shell a lot more. Unfortunately, he’s a talker. Drunk Wade has not learned the virtues of shutting the fuck up. He doesn’t need to talk about everything, he just occasionally starts blabbing about really personal shit, like the time his grandmother died of cancer or the first time he saw his mother cry, and it’s like...  are you okay, buddy? Do you need to talk to someone? He says it so casually, too, like the liquor has numbed whatever obviously raw emotions are tied to these memories. His friends always know Wade a lot better after a night out, in plenty of ways they didn’t need to. They’ve learned to be smart about it; anytime Wade starts rambling, Reiben pushes some pretzels in his mouth, just so he’ll happily shush.

Timothy Upham: The Enthusiastic Drunk. He’s having a great time, even if no one else is. Drunk Upham comes out of his shell a lot more, which would be great if the liquor gave him any extra social skills. It doesn’t. Honestly, he just gets...  more oblivious to everyone else, and cares less about what other people are doing. He’s just vibing, and having fun doing it. Will bop along to music even if no one else is dancing with him, will ramble even if nobody’s listening...  oh god, and he loves to be on the dance floor. Like, the best way to keep an eye on him is to just drag him out and plant him in the middle of a dancing crowd, because he’s just happy to be there. 10/10 pleasant drunk, doesn’t know what the hell is going on. What language is he speaking? Who knows.

James Ryan: The Fun-Time Drunk. No, really, the rest of these guys are disasters, here’s the dude you want to go drinking with. He never goes alone, always with a group of buddies; he comes out solely to have a good time, and will not accept alternatives. This man has done body shots before. He loves loud music, crowded bars, and lively people. Yes, he can be a little obnoxious when drunk, but no more than your average well-intentioned dumb kid. He’s such an emotionally supportive drunk friend; he’s very physically affectionate, and will hug people while trying to coax them out of their sour moods. Anything can be solved with a trip to the dance floor. By the end of the night, he’ll probably end up passing out on someone’s shoulder, probably on the ride home, but he’s just worn out from a great party.

#saving private ryan #the pacific #headcanons #this got SO LONG

[ryosei-hime]

Sex and Therapy: The Switch

Concord.exe has stopped working, so we switch to Fizz's POV as he tries to help fix his broken lover. This chapter has implications (and results) of sexual violence and depicts depression. Also available on AO3.

Fizz walked back and forth across the room to find his keys before he left for work. He tried to ignore Concord’s sad eyes as they followed him, but it just wasn’t possible. He sat in the middle of his bed, bundled up in the covers, shoulders slumped, looking like a kicked puppy. Fizz clutched the keys as he found them.

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

“I can go back to work.” 

His voice came out so weak and fragile. He couldn’t even take care of himself. How did he think he would be able to take care of other people? He wouldn’t even be eating if Fizz didn’t make sure of it. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, letting Concord come to him. He pushed the covers off his head and let his fingers glide over his cheek. 

“We’ve been through this. This is what I’m built for. Let me take care of you now.” 

Concord’s eyes watered. Fizz couldn’t stand it. Why wouldn’t he stop crying? 

“Please, don’t leave me.” 

He felt a pang of offense every time Concord did this. What did he do to make him think he’d even entertain the thought?  

“I’m not leaving you, baby. I’m doing this for you. You have to eat. We have to pay rent.”

Concord let the covers slip off his shoulders as he rose up to hug his neck. Fizz returned it with a squeeze. 

“Be safe.”

“There’s nothing out there that can hurt me in any way Cog can’t fix.”

Concord’s arms tightened around his neck and he buried his face in his shoulder with a short whine. Damn, he’d said it wrong. He kept saying things wrong. Somehow Concord had always known the right words for him. But Fizz only seemed to make things worse when he opened his mouth.

“Concord, I’ll be okay.” He pushed him back, giving him a quick kiss. “Get some rest. I’ll see you at breakfast.” 

“Okay.” 

He sounded so defeated. Fizz tucked him in before leaving for the night, hoping he’d actually get some sleep. He wished he could stay with him to make sure of it, but he had to keep his priorities practical. Once he had the door between them he breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take care of Concord while he was broken. He just wasn’t as good at it as Concord had been for him. It made him feel like a failure. The only thing he could do to actually help was work and even that made Concord cry. 

Fizz had no concern for his own safety when it came to random Johns. Sure, they could get rough with him, but he could handle that. The only true source of anxiety for him lay in the past. Making himself so visible on the streets meant risking Ahroth finding him again. The chances were infinitesimal, but any chance worried him when it came to a demon so determined to see him suffer.

He’d never worked the streets before this, but it seemed to come naturally to him for the most part. He had scouted out a good place for picking up clients and, with his face, he met with a lot of success. Love him or hate him, there were a lot of people who wanted to fuck Fizzarolli in some way. This made him a lot of money, but it also turned him back into an object to be abused. 

The first night of this had shown him how much he appreciated Concord treating him like an equal. More than that, Concord treasured him, treated him like something precious. Which meant he had something to compare the pain and humiliation against when customers treated him poorly.

But he could shut his emotions off. He could shut his pain receptors off. And he could deal with the damage later. Or Cog could as it turned out more often than not. Tonight, one particularly large John had gotten too rough with him and fucked up his voice box. Fizz hadn’t let him get away without injury of his own, but now he had to spend some of his profit getting fixed. He hated that.

He wandered over to Cog’s apartment in the early morning, hoping she’d be awake. He couldn’t go home to Concord like this, but he didn’t want him to worry by coming home too late. So, he knocked a little louder and more incessantly than usual to make sure she heard him. When she answered the door, she did so with a jerk and an exasperated yell. 

“What did you break this time, Alis-?!” She stopped when she saw him. “Fizz.”

“D-d-don’t t-t-t-telllllll Concorrrrrrrrrr-ord-ord-ord Iii-ii-iii...” 

His voice glitched and clicked, static louder than his words. A single screech could be heard in the background noise as well, his head jerking in time to the skips as he held out a fist full of cash. 

“No.” Cog stated firmly, raising a hand. “Shut up before you deafen me and get in here.” 

She stepped aside and let him in, pointing towards her workstation. He went straight to his usual spot and settled in for the repair. She worked silently as he sat with his head down. He no longer tried to fluster her when he visited. Their relationship had grown a little since Concord broke. At first, he’d tried to ask Cog to help fix him. But she didn’t know how to fix imps. They both agreed it was a shame it couldn’t be as easy as fixing machines. 

Cog rarely confused him. She seemed to him very practical and straightforward. And some things that confused him about people also confused her as far as he could tell. He liked the kinship he felt when they were alone. It was the only relationship he’d ever experienced that had nothing to do with sex.

She finished working on his voice box and closed him back up.

“Give it a try.” 

“Thank you.” 

His voice came out clear again and he turned an appreciative smile on her. But a current of frustration ran through Cog, her tone almost accusatory.  

“How did you get broken again so soon? I just fixed you three days ago and a week before that.” 

“Concord’s out of money. I had to start working the streets.”

Cog let it drop at that, putting her tools away. She had never been one to pry if Fizz didn’t offer more on his own.

“Cog.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He keeps crying. Are you sure there isn’t something I can do to stop it?” 

“I don’t know, Fizz. That’s Concord’s job. Why don’t you find him another therapist to talk to?” 

“He won’t see one. He said he can work through it himself.” 

“Then I don’t know what to tell you. Wish I did. People are hard.”

Fizz knew she couldn’t help, but he had no one else to talk to about this. She was his only friend outside of Concord. And sometimes it just helped to have his thoughts heard.

“I think Concord has too many emotions. It makes him harder to fix.” 

“I can’t say I disagree with that.”

“Softie,” Fizz muttered, but it came out more affectionate than anything. “I should get back to him before he wakes up.” 

“I hope he feels better soon.” 

“Me too.”

When Fizz got home, Concord still lay sleeping, his fists balled tight in the covers. So, he took the chance to clean himself up before sliding into bed with him. He wrapped the sad little imp up in his arms gently, trying not to wake him right away. He pressed his face into the hair between his horns as he tried to imagine how it would be when Concord fixed himself. He wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted the happy little life they’d been building together back.

Concord stirred and Fizz gave him a little room to turn in his arms, greeting him with his best smile as he blinked his eyes open. 

“Good morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?” 

“I slept okay.” 

That meant he’d had nightmares, but it also told Fizz he’d slept enough to fall into a dream state.

“Do you want breakfast?” 

He shook his head and buried his face in the pillow. Fizz kissed the top of his head, fingers tracing down his spine. Concord’s muffled voice came out timid and cautious.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Fizz assured him. “Nothing bad happened.” 

He wiggled further into his arms. Fizz held him close and felt the whole night just fade away. He wanted this calm to last forever. He let them both enjoy the closeness for a while, watching the early morning sun play across Concord’s skin and listening to his breathing as he curled up against him. But he had to make sure Concord ate.

“You gotta eat, baby.” 

“I don’t wanna.” 

“Please, Concord. Do it for me?” 

He shook his head and Fizz had to hold in a sound of frustration. That usually worked. But when that failed, he turned to plan B. He coiled Concord up in one arm and simply carried him bodily to the kitchen, blanket and all. Concord held the blanket around him as Fizz deposited him in the seat. But after a moment, he simply flopped limply across the table. 

Fizz let him lay there as he started cooking, a new skill he’d picked up by necessity. He thought he took to it quickly and Concord hadn’t complained after the first few times. Recipes weren’t exactly hard to memorize and he never had to repeat a mistake. He slid a plate next to Concord’s face when he’d finished and sat down next to him. 

“Go ahead, eat it.” 

“Mm mm.” 

He shook his head and pulled the covers up over his mouth as if Fizz might try to force feed him. Well, if he wanted to play it that way Fizz had no choice but to break out the big guns. He kneeled on the floor next to Concord’s chair and fished his hand out of the blankets. He kissed his fingers gently, one at a time, before turning his eyes up to Concord’s. He adjusted the lighting in his eyes until what passed as pupils were easily visible against a dimmer backdrop. He made them wider and more innocent. 

“Please, Concord? Eat? It’s important to me. I worry about you.” 

He’d learned how well he could manipulate Concord with his eyes after he’d complimented them, and he’d picked up some of Concord’s own vocabulary for expressing his concern in a way that made sense to the therapist. This combination had yet to fail. Concord’s eyes teared up again, but he blinked them back. 

“Okay.” 

Fizz laid his head in Concord’s lap while he ate, fingers tracing over his leg lightly from time to time. He could have gotten up, but this part of the not too uncommon ritual was for his own enjoyment. He just wanted to stay in contact with his Concord without impeding his meal. A hand rested on his head after a while and he looked up. Concord showed him his empty plate to prove he’d eaten it all. 

Fizz took it from him and extended his arm to place it in the sink so he wouldn’t have to leave Concord’s side. He enjoyed the feeling of his hand running over his head and he could sense that he wanted to have an open and honest conversation. He’d learned to see these breakthroughs coming, picking up on subtle body language and eye movements.

“Thank you. For being here for me. I know I’m being difficult.” 

“A little,” Fizz agreed, letting that aura of honesty he exuded drag him in. “But I don’t mind. I just wish I knew what to say to fix you. Like you knew what to say to me.” 

“You can’t fix me, Fizz. I don’t want you to think that’s your responsibility. You’re already doing more than I could ever ask of you. I don’t want to overburden you. I don’t like that you have to...work. I don’t like that you have to make me eat. I don’t want it to be this way.” 

“I miss how we were before,” he admitted and it felt nice to let it out.

“Me too. These things just take time. When your entire identity is broken in one day.... I just need time.” 

Fizz sat up and ghosted his lips over Concord’s as if he might break more if he pushed too hard. Concord let him but didn’t really return the gesture. Fizz’s hands rested on his shoulders, his voice sincere. 

“Take all the time you need. I’m not leaving, I promise.” 

A single tear rolled down Concord’s cheek.

“I’m sorry I keep saying that. That’s not fair to you. I’m just very vulnerable right now. I’m so scared of pushing you away with this. Of being alone.” 

“You’re not.” Fizz pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Concord’s fingers curled against his back, the fabric of his tunic twisted up in his fists, breath coming in short bursts between his words.

“Thank you for everything you’re doing, Fizz. I know it’s not easy. And I’m trying. I’m trying so hard. But I realized, I’m trying for you. Because I want to be with you. And I can’t convince myself to try for me.” 

Fizz didn’t really understand the difference and Concord didn’t elaborate. He ran his hand up and down his back as the crying started again. Wasn’t it enough to try at all? Would telling him that help or make things worse? Why did navigating emotions have to be like defusing a bomb? 

As he tried to work that puzzle out, a muffled, teary voice came from his chest.

“I love you, Fizz.” 

His internal processes stopped momentarily. Everything stopped. He couldn’t speak. Concord buried his face even further into his embrace.

“I love you so much.” 

Fizz felt a panic send his workings racing back into action. What did he say to that? How did an AI determine whether or not he felt real love? Would Concord know the difference between real and simulated love? If Fizz went along with this, would Concord just see what he wanted to see or would Fizz hurt him when he discovered the truth? That Fizz had no idea what love even meant.

He did the only thing he knew for sure Concord wanted and said it back.

“I love you, too.” 

Concord turned his wet face up to him, disbelief clear in his eyes.

“Really?”

“Of course. Why do you think I’m working so hard for you?”

Concord beamed like the sun and it filled Fizz with hope. Of course! The key to fixing Concord had been there all along. He had been built to meet the desires of his owner. If he just let his base programming take over and gave him what he wanted, Concord would be happy again. 

And right now, Concord wanted to be loved. He wanted tenderness. Fizz could do that. He leaned down and kissed him, soft and gentle. Concord reciprocated this time, parting for only a moment before coming back in for more. Concord pulled away after a few more to gaze into his eyes, and Fizz brushed a thumb over his lips.

“There’s that beautiful smile.” 

“I’ve been so scared to tell you,” Concord whispered as if speaking too loudly would break the moment.

“You don’t have to be scared to tell me anything, my love.” 

Concord started crying again which only confused Fizz though everything seemed to these days. He carefully kept his confusion hidden and waited patiently for it to pass. Concord rubbed his face with the covers as the tears dried up. And now only the joy remained. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.” 

Fizz’s expression became more genuine and this time he didn’t have to lie at all.

“That’s all I want. To make you happy.” 

Concord captured his lips in a passionate kiss, arms around his neck, pulling him down into it. Fizz let Concord set the pace. He didn’t want to move too fast. But they hadn’t had sex in weeks and even though he’d been getting it eslewhere, it wasn’t the same. He wanted Concord again, his sweet little imp, his favorite plaything. 

Even if he didn’t know if he could feel real love himself, he could certainly feel Concord’s washing over him. And that love made him feel special. It made him feel important. He liked that. Because in all honesty, he wasn’t. He existed as no more than another variation of the great Fizzarolli - a broken one at that.

As the kiss ended, Concord held his face in his hands, staring deep into his eyes, conviction filling every syllable as he spoke. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you so much for choosing me.” 

His Concord could be so dramatic, but Fizz found it adorable and that lit up his face as he replied.

“I wouldn’t have anyone else.” 

Concord kissed him again and Fizz ramped up the intensity, wanting more. He ran his hands down Concord’s sides, fingers slipping around his hips. He wanted to pull him into the floor and fuck him so bad. But Concord gave him a shy look as he pulled back to breathe. As he spoke, Fizz’s hands paused in their wandering, resting on his thighs. 

“Will you make love to me?” 

Fizz wanted it the way they’d been before, but those words made it clear he needed something softer right now, something tender and loving. So, he put his own desires aside as he’d become accustomed to once more. But he didn’t mind this time. If Concord wanted sweet and boring, he deserved it.

It turned out to be the most vanilla sex he’d ever had, but he still enjoyed the way Concord looked at him the whole time. As if Fizz were his sole reason for living, his everything. It felt good to know someone could love him that much and that his mere existence could bring Concord so much happiness. 

But the validity of his own love became a nagging anxiety. The discovery of his fraud so large and imposing it resided next to his fear of Ahroth. Concord could never know he had any doubts. It could break him beyond repair and that scared Fizz more than anything.

#Helluva Boss #RoboFizz #Robo Fizz #Robo Fizz Helluva Boss #RoboFizz Helluva Boss #RoboFizzxOC #myfanfics #stuffididmyself

[into-crazy]

More to the Madness Pt. 11

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader series

Summary: Continuation to part 10 of J breaking into your apartment.

Warnings- Cursing, mentions of violence, angst, dark themes(thoughts about the death/hurting of the other), NSFW, SMUT, thigh riding, some gun play, choking, unprotected sex, overstimulation, orgasm denial, ages 18+

More smut, yay! Also this is another terribly long piece. Why are my smut pieces always so long?

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “More to the Madness” tag lovelies💞💞

You narrow your gaze at him in suspicion. What is he up to? It's a trap, it's got to be. He's always got something tricky up his purple sleeve. "No. I'm fine right here."

His jaw clenches at your words, the frustration creeping in his face articulated by the squelching of his gloves as his hands ball into fists. He snarls, "you're being difficult right now, doll." Low and dangerous, a clear warning.

Too bad you've got a terrible knack for ignoring those.

You plant your feet, standing your ground. "I'm being difficult? You still haven't told me why you're here."

His tongue clicks in the silent air while he thinks to himself for a split second. "Then uh, why don't ya come over here an' lemme tell ya hm? I know you want to, don't act like ya don't. Seeing I haven't given you a reason to shoot me when you had the chance. So, be a good girl and come sit down. I'm not gonna ask again."

A shiver rattles your spine as you let release a quiet, shuddering sigh. That wasn't supposed to dash a sharp pang of arousal through you. But it did. Warily, you go over to him, stepping into the shadows and stopping at his feet. He's scarily calm, his whole demeanor reads danger. It feels like you've stepped into the lion's den to feed the big cats. In this case it being just one- the one and only alpha. With a high chance that he'll pounce any given second.

He gives you a single nod, patting his leg again. When you move to straddle his lap, he quickly grabs ahold of your hips and redirects you.

"Ah ah-" he guides you to sit directly on his thigh. "Right here." The words leaving his lips in a thick whisper as he sets you in place. With your legs on either side of his left one- your leg flinching when it brushes the cold metal chain dangling from his pants.

Instead of sitting down all the way, you hover over his tempting thigh. Which is hard considering how badly you want to sit and have his strong muscle pressed against your core. However, you do that, then he'll feel the wetness starting to soak through your bottoms and into his pants.

J notices you're straining to hold your weight up. "Don't be shy." He presses. "Get comfortable."

You couldn't resist anymore. Fuck it. You bit your lip to keep the whine from slipping past your lips as you settle down fully. The sheer relief of finally feeling him against your heated sex. But even that wasn't enough, you wanted more.

"That's it." He licks his lips in approval while you get situated.

Guiding his large hands down along your thighs, you shiver at the pleasing sensation of the leather rubbing your skin. His touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shift your hips, granting you with the slightest dose of friction. You sigh, avoiding his burning stare. He removes one hand to tilt your face to his, "Look at me." You do, catching the malevolent look in his blackened eyes that only deepens as he registers the yearning in yours. "Missed me?" It leaves his beautifully mangled lips just above a mere hypnotic whisper.

"Maybe." You answer, recomposing yourself. "Alright, I'm here. Just like you wanted." Your arms slide over his broad shoulders to intertwine lazily behind his neck. "So, are you gonna tell me what made you wanna come all this way to see me?" Hopefully this conversation will help take your mind off the ache between your legs.

"Already told ya, dropped by for a visit. You're much better company than what I got back at the warehouse. Oh annnd-" Without breaking his gaze from you, he awkwardly reaches his right arm behind the chair. Bringing up a black backpack. "To drop this off." He places it over on the table behind you. The muffled thud of it landing on the surface giving you a light startle.

Curiously, you reach back to peak into the unsealed opening. "What is it?" Inside, you found there to be a bunch of stacked bills filled to the top.

"Fifty thousand, unmarked." J states blankly, gaze roaming over the now exposed skin of your waist. "Consider it a uh, small token of appreciation. Payment for the work ya put in, including an advance for the upcoming jobs. Gotta make sure my bunny's taken care of." He leans in, caressing your turned cheek with such a gentleness that blindsides you as much as the sack of cash.

Is this some sort of test? Does he think he can somehow buy you- buy your loyalty? He doesn't have to. Regardless, whatever the case may be you wouldn't take it anyways.

Closing the bag back up, you shake your head, "J, I.. I can't accept that." He retracts, taking the warmth of his breath with him as you turn your attention back to him. "We've had this discussion before, I don't want your money. I'm not in it for that."

"Ya say that, but take a good look around. This apartment, that uh, flat screen by the wall, these pretty little clothes you're wearing.. What gets ya all of this?" He motions towards the bag. "Cash currency. And how does one acquire it when flying under the radar? By completing underground tasks and getting paid for 'em. Is that not what you've done for me?"

"It is, but-"

"But what?" He cuts you off impatiently.

"Look," you sigh, gathering your answer. "I mean, I can appreciate the gesture. But really, I don't need your help. I have my own means of acquiring what I need for myself. I thought it was clear from the beginning that I'm not along for the pay."

He sits there registering everything from your candid tone to the lenient sliding of your hands down the lapels on his trench. Sees the strain in your movements from holding back, from pressing too hard. It reminds him of earlier at the complex, moments just before the job. How you held your breath as he let you comb your dainty fingers through his green strands. Though your hands are tough and you can land some pretty hard punches on others. They're still dainty to him. Delicate enough for him to snap very easily if he wanted. But he didn't. He doesn't.

Pestering as it may be to him, there's something that keeps him from wanting to injure you. From wanting to kill you. Something he ponders on with everyone else he encounters. However, the thought of you being injured or killed- be it by his hand or not- doesn't sit well with him. It just doesn't. And he wants to hate you for that. It makes him want to rid himself of you even more. If you had just gotten rid of her a long time ago, it wouldn't be such a nuisance to think about. He'd scorn himself. You could do it now, rip off the band-aid and get it over with. Why you? Why does the thought of suddenly not having you by his side, not getting to look at you, or not able to hear your voice anymore bother him?

Hurt you, he will. Ohh, expect that he will.

In ways that you crave, of course. In which you take pleasure in receiving as much as he enjoys inflicting. Where he can drink in the view of your gorgeous face twisted in blissful agony. Bask in the contorted melody of the moans and cries from your beautiful lips. Distractions, sweet distractions. He doesn't need them but he could sure go for one right now. Especially after the one thing he couldn't get off his mind since this morning. He didn't very well appreciate that you got to see him up so close in a vulnerable state. It makes him want to turn it around. Get even. Guess a distraction will do.

"I'm aware money serves no real purpose to ya," he states slyly, "but we never ah, actually went over the reason you tag along. Have we?"

"No," you admit, "no we haven't." It's becoming harder to concentrate when he's looking at you with that ravenous glare of his.

He purposely jerks his leg up against your core, making you go stiff. "I might not be a detective. But I'm certain ya know by now that I'm uh, quite perceptive when it comes to reading people."

"Yeah, no shit," you breathe out. He squeezes your thighs, and you almost whimper. Shifting against him a little harder, trying to play it off as though you were readjusting. It doesn't work, true to his word, he's very observant.

"Mhmm," he hums, "so go ahead, then. Rub yourself against my thigh." Your eyes widen and he releases a wheezy laugh. "Oh don't give me that. I feel how hot and wet your cunt is. Felt it the moment ya sat down." His hands slide under the openings of your shorts to grip the plush flesh of your ass. He's pleased to see you're not wearing panties. His fingers would've caught in them if that were the case. You moan softly when he gives you another squeeze, dragging you towards him. "Come on, bunny. Entertain me. Show me how bad you want me."

He's taunting you, but you don't have the time to care. Especially with the delicious pleasure of his thigh on your throbbing heat, this was too good to pass up. Steadying yourself with a grip on his shoulders, you start grinding your pussy on his upper leg. Despite the bothersome layers in between your bodies could you feel his warmth, and looking down his body spot his bulge growing under said layers.

Just as you were setting a pace, J snatched your hands from his shoulders. Locking your wrists directly behind you, giving him a better view of your compulsive grinding. You're still grinding. Back arched towards him, chest noticeably heaving while you wriggled in his grasp. Working hard at brushing your heated sex along his leg. He likes watching you squirm- took some wicked form of gratification in seeing you so desperate for him.

"Look at you- naughty little thing. Gettin' all worked up on my thigh. I'll say, desperate's a good look on ya." His other hand went to slide the thin straps of your top from your shoulders. Allowing the material to bunch around your waist, displaying your breasts. Slightly bouncing in time to your movements. He kneads the plump flesh roughly before moving to rub and pinch your peaked nipples.

"Oh my god J-" your eyes threaten to roll towards the back of your skull due to the cool, stimulating sensation. Moving your hips even faster. You're certainly making a slippery mess of his slacks now. Arousal continuously dripping from your cunt, seeping through your shorts and into the coarse fabric of his pants. He tilts his head to gaze where your pelvis meets his leg, taking note of this as well.

He lets go of your wrists to grab at your hair, grabbing the damp strands in a tight fist. "You're making a mess a my pants, doll." He scorns.

You release a breathy laugh, "You- ah- you were the one who we wanted me to to sit here." Throwing your hips forward sharply to further emphasize your point. Upon doing that, your knee rammed into something hard and sharp beneath his trench. "Ow!" The heavy fabric swallowed your leg so you couldn't see it, but you registered what it was based on the placement and impact. "Was that- your gun?"

"Yeah," he giddily acknowledges. Slipping his hold from your hair to retrieve the weapon from it's hidden spot, holding it directly in your view. "Sure is."

Despite the lack of proper lighting, did the gun still gleam. His trusty Glock 17- converted to a full-auto with an extended 33 round mag and all! It's unique, impractical, and no doubt sexy. Very much like him. It's even more deadly as it's difficult to control due to such an extremely high cyclic rate. Despite J being so trigger-happy, he handles the weapon well. He makes a show of racking the slide, the distinct clicking sound of it excites you. You rather like the way he handles it.

"Mrrroow," you purr with a flirtatious roll of your r's. "What'd you do that for- you gonna shoot me?"

"Tempted."

"Oh, and here I thought you enjoyed my company." You leaned forward and slowly licked along the slide of the piece.

J's hand tightened around the handle, with a look of bewilderment as he watched you lick a trail, retracting your tongue just before reaching the muzzle. He traces it down your jaw. "My, my sweetheart.." He presses it against your cheek and you lean further into it. Gazing at him- dare he say- amorously. You have a loaded gun to your head and you look practically lovesick. Now, how can he think about getting rid of you when you're looking at him like that? "Aren't you ah.. full of surprises."

J's hand goes back to your hair as he slides the piece over your lips, muttering a command. "Open." You comply and he shoves it into your mouth, instantly engulfing you with the taste of metal. "Now suck on my gun like you would my cock."

You work your tongue, taking as much as you can while you suck his gun. The slurping and sucking sounds absolutely lewd. Continuing the movement of your hips, your hand wraps around his wrist, holding the weapon there. Your eyes flutter shut and you moan around the barrel. Damn, the hold this man has on you. It should be embarrassing, how weak you are for him. Allowing him to put a gun in your mouth with his finger dangerously close to the trigger.

"Fuck babygirl, you sure are somethin' special."

Opening your eyes, your met with his lusty intense ones. Endless black pits piercing through you. Completely sinister, those of a man lacking any remorse. That's killed- murdered people- and will continue to do so with no intention to stop.

This doesn't bother you. After all, you're no saint. There's blood on your hands. Though that on yours consists of the most corrupt and tainted who wore masks to pretend they were honorable- it was still murder. Plain and simple. The only difference is you've got a target type, whereas the Joker doesn't. You won't justify it with some sense of morality. You even felt satisfactory in your actions, with no room left for regret. The same applies to him. Joker's not ashamed in who he is. He embraces it freely without a care. One of the many reasons you're drawn to him.

There's absolutely no shame in the desire coursing through you. You're showing him exactly what you want, everything you desire in that moment. And he wasn't displeased. His pants are becoming increasingly tighter around his hardening cock. But he won't address that just yet.

"Just like that, keep rolling those hips. Rub that needy little pussy on my leg.."

You give another moan and he snarls. Tearing the gun from your mouth, tossing it aside to tug you in. Crashing his mouth against yours in a fiery kiss that's all teeth and tongue. You're rutting harder against him, so close to letting go.

When your hand slides down to graze his erection, he quickly swats it away. "Ah ah- hands to yourself, doll."

"Please J, I want t-to touch you. I want to feel you." You try to convince him, displaying your best attempt at puppy eyes.

"Want huh? Well we don't always get what we want." He chuckles mockingly, pressing his fingers against your clit. Briefly circling on the swollen bud over the fabric, then pulling away. "Perhaps if you're good for me I'll reward ya. But you'll have to earn it."

You groan in response to his offer, grinding your clit even harder. When J grips and starts guiding your hips, you lose it. "Oh fuck- I'm close," you rasp.

"Who said you can cum?" He growls against your lips, biting into your bottom one. That almost had you cumming on the spot. "I don't ah, don't remember ya asking if ya can, doll."

With each rock of your hips you plead, "please, please, fuck- please. Can I cum?"

He ghosts his hand up your sternum to wrap firmly around your neck. Tearing you away from him to stare into your eyes. Very much pleased with the sight before him. "You can cum. Keep those gorgeous eyes open, I want you to look at me while you do." He flexes his thigh and squeezes his hold on your throat almost to where you can't breath.

With that, your orgasm washes over you- digging your nails into his wrist as you release a strangled cry through your constricted windpipe. Your walls contracting around nothing while you cum straight through your shorts, all over his leg. That malevolent look in his eyes has you still rutting to where it starts to hurt due to the overstimulation.

"That's it bunny.."

You drink in his husky praise as you come down from your high. Basking in his warmth that betrays the coldness in his eyes.

Before you know it, he's moving you. Bringing you to your feet with him, he stands behind you. Pushing you face down into the into the cushioned back of the seat. He yanks the soaked shorts down your legs along with your top, exposing your ass and glistening pussy. You bite your lip hearing him undo his buckle. He takes his length into his hand, rubbing his thick head along your folds. Teasing you as it brushes your sensitive clit. His precum adding extra slick against your dripping heat. You whimper, pushing back, unsure whether you want him to continue teasing or enter you already. The fact that he was still mostly clothed and you were completely bare made it even worse.

"So eager for me," he hisses, running his leather clad hand up your spine to grip your hair. Pushing his thick head into your aching hole, further torturing you- going in and out, in and out..

"Fuck please-" you mewl, "Fuck me J- I need your cock inside me!"

A groan rumbles in his chest, your shameless cries have his cock twitching with satisfaction. "Mmh, what a dirty mouth ya got, doll. I like that. Looks like you'll be getting your reward after all."

He thrusts his length into your pussy, knocking the wind from your lungs. Allowing you a moment to adjust before picking up a rapid pace. His cock stretching you amazingly as he pounds mercilessly into you. Fucking you rough and hard from behind.

"You ah- take my cock so well miss l/n." He remarks sarcastically between thrusts. Though you can't see it, you can practically visualize the arrogant smirk plastered across his mangled cheeks. Looking over your shoulder, you shoot him a glare. Sure enough, there's the smirk. His hand smacks your ass, earning a yelp from you, and he cackles wildly. The bastard.

J continued to tug on your hair as he fucked you relentlessly. Telling you how good your pussy feels around his cock, how perfect your ass and body are, and how much he likes the special, filthy little noises you make just for him. He was egging you on, driving you to the brink of madness.

Each time you were on the verge of an orgasm would he halt. Painfully tearing that sweet release away from you. He did that quite a few times, you lost count after 4 or 5. You were too exhausted, too needy for that final wave of ecstasy to hold track. Tears streamed down your flushed cheeks, your legs are growing tired, and your throat is hoarse from shouting and moaning.

The neighbors probably hate you now. Surely they're well aware of what's happening in here. Fortunately, they don't know who the cause of your rowdy noises is. Before you could fully shout his name would Joker quickly find a way to muffle it. J is fine, but you could only cry out "Jok-" before his hand sealed your mouth. He also didn't want them finding out that The Joker was in your apartment. Least not today. Another time.

Drawing near another release, you start to plead. Frantically rocking back to meet his unforgiving thrusts. "Ahh- J, please- I can't take it anymore, let me cum!"

"Oh ya wanna cum, huh?" He roughly kneads the plush of your ass. The strong amount of willpower this man has is beyond you. But even he's growing frustrated with holding back. He will not let go until he gets what he craves from you. "How bad do ya need it?"

"I need it so bad- please J- can I cum? Please, let me cum on your cock!" Your whines poured out.

"Now that's convincing," he groans. This time he doesn't stop or slow his momentum. Instead he advances harder, pounding into you even faster than before. He's finally going to let you cum. "Cum for me bunny. Come on, be a good girl and cum on my cock, hm." He reaches around to rub tight circles on your clit. Giving you that extra push over the edge.

Your back arches wildly and your walls clamp tightly around his cock. Pulling him deeper into you as he chases his own release. He surges forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, no doubt drawing blood. You cry out in delicious pain and he releases. Groaning against your sweat slicked skin, shooting thick spurts of his hot cum inside you.

You collapse softly onto the seat, catching your breath. Joker says nothing while he slows his, gaze roaming over you as if he were admiring his work. He runs his hands through his hair, pushing the green strands from his face. You close your eyes for a moment as exhaustion quickly starts to draw in your spent body.

Upon reopening them you notice he's staring at you rather absently. Skimming all the thoughts constantly running through his busy mind. When you giggle, it breaks him from his fog.

"What's so funny, doll?" He tilts his head playfully.

"Nothing," you reply tiredly as he fixes up his slacks. Looking at the large wet patch running down the length of his upper leg. Most of it somewhat dry now, but still there. "It's just, this wasn't how I expected my night would turn out at all."

"Turned out a lot better I presume?" His tongue darts out to graze his lips while he loops his belt.

"Well, despite the fact you broke into my apartment, I suppose it did." You laugh in agreement. Using your discarded shorts to wipe yourself down briefly. You'll properly clean up later with another shower, right now you're drained of any energy.

You grabbed a small blanket from the couch next to the sofa chair in which you're laying. Shifting to lay more comfortably with the fuzzy cover shielding your naked body from the chill of the room. You offered to clean and better dry out your juices from his pants, but he said he'd take care of it. J had the rest of the night to take care of things before his next big job. Unfortunately, with that being said, you knew that it meant he wouldn't stay much longer with you tonight. You understood but it didn't stop you from pondering- does the man ever sleep?

Does chaos ever take a break?

Questions like those and more swarmed through your mind as you shut your eyes. Ready to drift off into sleep. "Hey uh, J?" You whisper.

"Hm?" He hums coming to lean over you.

"I'm still not accepting that money." You remark tiredly with a half grin.

He caresses the side of your face, swiping his thumb over your lips which are still slightly smeared with his red paint. He doesn't get how you could be comfortable enough to let yourself fall asleep around him. No one is ever at ease with him when they're fully awake, no one would dare attempt to let their guard down like such knowing The Joker is around. Yet, here you are, making it look so easy. "Well that's too bad, cause I ain't takin' it back with me."

"You leave it, then it's just going to sit here. Because I'm not spending any of it."

"Shush doll," he chuckles quietly, patting your cheek. "Get some sleep now, huh?"

Your smile sweetens, and he pulls away. Without another word from either of you, you allow for exhaustion to completely take over.

End of part 11. Ahh, I started out really good with this but towards the end I just wanted it to be done and move on to more exciting parts. So yeah, more to come!

#More to the Madness #heath ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #joker x female reader #joker x y/n #ledger joker x y/n #ledger joker x female reader #ledger!joker #ledger!joker smut #fanfic