#i’ve been so hesitant to dye my hair though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laurenairay · 2 years

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Easy To Say - M. Heiskanen

I am so much later than I wanted to be with this, but here is something I wrote for @ghostyjosty’s 2.2k writing challenge!

Prompt: It’s nice to see my whole family again but it would be even better if everyone stopped asking me if I’m in a relationship with my friend I brought with me.

Player: Miro Heiskanen

Word Count: 10.8k words

Warnings: mild angst, fluff, some bad language, idiots to lovers

Tagging: @antoineroussel @denis-scorianov @broadstbroskis @texanstarslove @thebookofmags @matthewtkachuk @tippedbykreider @danglesnipecelly @tysonjost-taylorsversion @newlibrary @starshine-hockey-girl @jostyriggslover96

There were a few things Zoey Clark knew about herself. She knew that she was a good friend – loyal and compassionate and supportive without hesitation. She knew that she wasn’t very adventurous – growing up in Dallas and only going to college as far away as Austin was about her limit. She knew that she was affectionate by nature – acts of service, especially baking was her love language, and she was more than happy to share that with anyone and everyone she cared about.

And she knew for sure that she was the luckiest daughter in the world – she was well aware that without her dad buying an ‘investment apartment’ and letting her rent it from him, there was no way she would have been able to afford to live in her new building on a junior copywriter’s salary.

There were very few things she had wanted for growing up near Preston Hollow, her family’s businesses allowing them to be far more than comfortable financially, but there was one thing that leaving the neighbourhood she’d grown up in had taught her – she liked the relative freedom of not living in her parents’ house. Upon graduating a month ago, one of the very first things Zoey had asked for was help to find an apartment of her own in the city. Sure, she hadn’t expected her dad to outright buy one, but it was the thought that counted – and she was eternally grateful that this link to her dad placated her mom enough not to put up a fight about Zoey moving out completely only a few weeks after coming home.

But she was 22 now, with her first grown-up paying job – it was time to spread her wings.

Well, as much as she could while living only a 15 minute drive from her parents’ house. But still, the intention was there.

Today was moving day, a beautiful sunny day in early June. Zoey had insisted on thrifting as much of her furniture as she could, knowing that buying brand new when she was so young would be such a waste, especially when she was still creating a living style aesthetic of her own. So she’d collected various second-hand pieces from around the city, as well as inheriting a bedframe and headboard from her older sister Leah, a coffee table and hallway console table from her older brother David, and a chest of drawers from her aunt Mary.

Her oldest sister Madison had insisted on gifting her a new set of towels, a bath mat, and sheets though. Just the basics, as she put it, which was sweet of her.

It was the start of her new life, and she couldn’t wait.

Her parents, brother and brothers-in-law had helped her move all her boxes and furniture in that morning, her parents staying to help her get started on her unpacking, which she was more than grateful for.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re growing up so fast!” her mom, Charlotte, sighed, “It’s just…”

“Just what, mom?” Zoey mused, as her mom trailed off.

Her mom sighed again, before shaking her head. “Did you have to dye your hair pink?”

Her dad, Nathan, barked out a laugh as Zoey rolled her eyes fondly.

“One, it’s not my whole head, just the ends. And two, I work in a creative field mom – I’ve got to figure out what that means for myself, you know?” Zoey grinned.

Dyeing her hair had been her one little act of rebellion, the first she’d ever done. Zoey had grown up being a good Texan girl, never putting a step out of place, not breaking the mould – but with this first step in her new life, she had wanted to do something for herself. Having partially pink hair was just a bit of fun, nothing drastic.

“I know, I know. You’ll just always be my baby, you know that,”

Being the youngest of four kids had its perks, sure, but it also had downsides like this.

“Alright Lottie, leave her be,” her dad mused, “Our Zo is a big girl now,”

“Thanks dad,” Zoey said dryly.

He just nudged her shoulder with his, making her laugh, earning a big smile back.

“Now, we’ll be off – I’m sure you’re going to have plenty of unpacking to do now that we’ve done the kitchen and living room with you…”

That was for damn sure.

“…just make sure you take a break to eat dinner – meal times are important,”

Zoey looked down at her size 14 curves with an incredulous laugh, before looking back up at her dad.

“I’m hardly going to waste away,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“Zoey Rebecca Clark, your dad is right. It’s all over the media these days, women thinking they need to eat less when their bodies are perfect just as they are,” her mom said firmly.

“We just want you to take care of yourself, now that you’re out here on your own,” her dad added.

Zoey just held up her hands in surrender, shaking her head fondly. She knew they meant well – and she was more than grateful that her parents weren’t like some of her friend’s parents growing up, telling them to diet so they would look a certain way – and she knew that this was only coming from a place of love.

“Trust me, I will never skip a meal. I wouldn’t waste grandma’s cooking lessons like that,” she said seriously, although she knew she was smiling enough to let them know she wasn’t mad.

This earned a laugh from both of them, and they finally nodded their peace.

“Alright baby, we’ll leave you to it. Preach that body positivity – that’s the lingo these days, right?” her mom grinned.

“Out with you!” Zoey laughed, pointing to the door.

With more laughter, her parents did as she said, Zoey walking over to them to say goodbye.

“I’ve put a casserole and a bunch of frozen veggies in the freezer for you, for a rainy day,” her mom murmured as she hugged her goodbye.

“If you need anything, any time of day or night, you call me okay? Even if it’s for a really big spider,” her dad said quietly into her ear, as he hugged her goodbye.

Ridiculous people – but she wouldn’t change them for world.

“Thanks guys. I’ll see you on the weekend for dinner, yeah?” Zoey said.

“Saturday night supper – I’ll make you favourite chicken-fried steak to celebrate!” her mom nodded, smiling widely.

“I’ll make that raspberry lemonade you like,” her dad added.

“You’re the best,” she sighed happily, earning even bigger smiles.

With that, her parents walked down the hallway to the elevator, pressing the button to call it up. And as the doors opened, a young guy walked out, keys in hand. Her parents waved one last time before they stepped in, and that was when the guy looked up at her. Tousled brown hair, a natural tan in his skin, and incredibly pretty blue eyes. Wow.

“Oh, hey, you must be the new neighbour,” he said, smiling widely as he raised a hand in greeting.

And wow, cute accent. No, focus Zoey!

“That’s me,” Zoey nodded, smiling back at him.

“I’m Miro,” he said, holding his hand out as he reached her.

“Zoey,”

She shook his hand, glad for at least one friendly face in the building.

“What brings you to Dallas?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

He wanted to get to know her? Wow, this day just kept getting better and better.

“Oh I grew up about 15 minutes away from here, but I just graduated college and got a job at an advertising firm,” she explained.

“Congratulations! That’s great!” he grinned.

Zoey could feel the blush that took over her cheeks, but she smiled at him anyway.

“Thank you. I’m really nervous – I’m starting next week – but I wanted to move out and my dad bought this apartment so I could rent it from him,” she said with a wince.

But Miro just shook his head. “Nothing wrong with that – you’ve got to start somewhere, right?”

Huh. That was a refreshing reaction, definitely not what she was expecting. Then again, he looked fairly young himself – maybe he could relate?

“Better than sharing with roommates I don’t know,” she nodded, laughing softly.

Miro laughed too, nodding firmly. “It’s bad enough sharing living space with people you do know,”

That sounded like an interesting story for another day. Hopefully?

“I’d better let you go – I’m sure you have plenty to get on with. But if you need anything, just knock on my door. I’m literally the apartment next to you,”

“That’s sounds great, thanks Miro,” Zoey said, more than grateful.

“It’ll be nice having a friendly neighbour,” he grinned back.

That was for certain. She waved at him as he walked down the hallway to his own apartment, before heading back inside her own, shutting the front door behind her. A nice neighbour, friendly but not too over-familiar. Someone she could see being a real sweetheart if he opened up with friendship. Was that something she could have? Friendship with the neighbour next door?

She could only hope so.

5 months later, in the middle of November, Zoey had settled into this new chapter of her life with ease. She still saw her parents every weekend (bar only a couple when she had plans with Miro) for dinner, keeping that strong family bond going. She was thriving in her job – being a junior copywriter was challenging, but she enjoyed working every day and that was something to be thankful for right? And she had somehow made a firm friend in the star defenceman of the Dallas Stars.

Yes, that had been a shocking revelation when Miro had eventually admitted what he did for work – her family was diehard football fans, rather than ice hockey fans, so she hadn’t recognised him in the slightest. Apparently, that had been refreshing for him, which was why he hadn’t said anything, but the closer they had gotten over that first month he knew he had to say something. After that, the more time Zoey spent in Downtown Dallas, she had seen more and more of his face on banners and billboards, and could only marvel at the friendship that luck had afforded her.

All the same though, he was still sweet Miro from the apartment next door. The same guy that helped her fix her dining room table when one of the screws came loose. The same guy that was useless before caffeine in the morning, with a blank stare that always made her giggle instead of being intimidated like most people. The same guy that shyly introduced her to his teammate Esa when he’d come over to pick Miro up for practice, but was effortlessly charming every time her parents visited.

Over the past 5 months, she had learned a lot about herself, as well as learning about Miro. Zoey had learned that she was more independent than she thought herself capable of. She also learned that Miro was unflappable, calm, and collected, even after a bad loss. She learned that she still needed cooking advice from her grandma on more complicated recipes, which her grandma was always happy to give. She also learned that sometimes Miro needed a really good hug, when internalising his emotions became overwhelming.

They became friends – true friends – and Zoey could only thank every star in the sky that fate had brought this amazing guy into her life. No-one had ever gotten her like he did, and everything was always just so effortless with him. There were no expectations, no judgements, just easy and simple friendship. It was refreshing and to be honest, it was the easier friendship she’d ever made. He really was one of the most important people in her life, and she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Hey, Zo, do you have any milk? I need coffee,”

Speak of the devil.

“You know where it is, help yourself,” she called back, waving at him from where she was on the sofa, “I’ve got coffee in the pot too, so go nuts,”

Miro threw his thumb up in thanks and walked across the room into her open kitchen, heading straight for her fridge with a happy sigh.

This was the level that their friendship had reached. They had each other’s spare key, they were comfortable in each other’s apartment, and they shared groceries when the other ran out. Simple, easy and effortless.

“Mm, almost forgot – there’s banana and chocolate chip muffins in the pantry if you want a couple? You must be hungry after travelling today,” she called out.

Miro’s happy groan made her laugh, knowing she’d hit the nail right on the spot. 5 months in, and she knew him so well already.

Within moments, he flopped down next to her on the sofa, lifting her legs up so he could get comfortable before placing them across his lap.

“You are my favourite person in Dallas, Zoey Clark,” Miro grinned, taking a big bite of the muffins she’d made that morning.

The look of pure joy on his face gave her the biggest rush of happiness.

“Better not let Esa hear you say that,” she teased.

That thick-thighed Finn was a wonderful human being, that was for sure.

But Miro just shrugged, grin not disappearing. “All the guys on the team are jealous that they don’t have a friend like you living next door,”

“Well they are more than welcome any time,” Zoey mused.

Miro pouted in her direction, making her laugh loudly. Very few people got to see such an animated side of this reserved guy, and she knew she was lucky.

“You will always be my favourite Dallas Star, don’t get jealous,” she teased.

“Good,” Miro said firmly, nodding.

Zoey rolled her eyes fondly, and turned back to her book. Miro got his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through it while he finished the first muffin, the two of them sitting in a comfortable silence. That was another thing about her friendship with Miro that she appreciated – they didn’t always need to be doing something energetic or constantly talking. They could just chill out together like this, doing their own thing but doing it together, and she loved that. Who else could she do this with?

“Oh, we’ve got a big game against Nashville next week – do you want to go?” Miro said suddenly.

“Hell yes,” she said quickly.

“You never hesitate,” he mused, although his small smile was pleased.

“Why would I turn down an opportunity to see my best guy do what he loves?” Zoey shrugged.

Miro was always in his element on the ice, and it was always a joy to watch – she would jump over hurdles to see him play, and she didn’t even run for the bus. He always had tickets put aside for her to watch the Stars play at every home game, despite her insistence that she could pay for them herself – but he wouldn’t hear of it. He really was sweet like that. So she’d given up fighting him on it, and just accepted whenever he offered. She’d never take anything like that for granted. Ever.

“You’ll wear my jersey, right?” he asked, almost hopefully.

Other than the fact that his was the only hockey jersey she owned – her family were Cowboy’s fans – who else would she even wear one for?

“As if I would ever wear anyone else’s!” she nodded.

Then after a moment of thought, she grinned.

“Well, maybe Esa’s. He deserves it,” she shrugged.

“Yeah that’s fair,” Miro laughed, “You’ll come down to finally meet the rest of the team though, right?”

“Ohh I’m finally allowed to?” she teased.

Miro had always been hesitant about introducing her to his teammates – at first, she had awful insecurities that maybe he was embarrassed about her, but she’d quickly learned that he really was just that shy. Esa said it was because he didn’t like to share. Miro had countered back and said he didn’t want the team to scare her off. Either way, Zoey hadn’t pushed – she knew Miro had his reasons for everything, and she wasn’t going to argue with that.

“I think they’ll behave enough now, yes,” Miro nodded.

Zoey just laughed at his nonchalance but shrugged. “Sure, I’d love to meet your team. I’ve heard enough about the Finns to feel like I already know them, and Suzy at work is a diehard fan so she talks about everyone on the Stars anyway,”

“I apologise in advance,” Miro grimaced, “they’re idiots, but they’re my team,”

“Hey, I’m sure they’re great. I’m looking forward to it, Miro. I promise,” she said, trying to reassure him.

Miro looked unsure but he nodded anyway, sealing the deal. Zoey just shrugged and went back to her book. How bad could his team be?

“YOUR DALLAS STARS WIN!”

Zoey cheered at the top of her lungs along with the rest of the home crowd, jumping to her feet with applause. Looks like wearing Miro’s jersey was the good luck charm she hoped it would be. She couldn’t stop the grin on her face as the team circled round skating, saluting the crowd with their sticks. What a brilliant game! Miro was on fire too – maybe she really had been a good luck charm. 2 assists and a goal? Incredible.

With a whoosh, Zoey sat back down in her seat, pulling out her phone. There was a reason that she loved coming to see Miro play – he had such genuine talent, and she loved seeing him in his element. It made her appreciate the side of him she saw at home even more.

To: Miro

You were amazing!

Let me know when you’re ready for me to come down to meet everyone.

To: Zoey

I’ve sent someone up to get you.

They won’t be long.

But you can come down to the players tunnel to wait and I will join you soon.

I’m not doing media tonight.

Well alright then. Sure enough, a few minutes later, a smiling woman came up to Zoey at her seat and guided her down to the players tunnel as Miro had said, leaving her there with a final smile. There were a few other people waiting around, but Zoey wasn’t interested in them. She just wanted to see her friend and congratulate him. He deserved all the praise. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Miro to come out in his suit, hair still a little damp from a quick shower, and Zoey smiled so wide her cheeks ached.

“Ahhh what an amazing game! You were so good!” Zoey said happily, throwing her arms round his neck in a hug.

Miro wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her waist in a hug too, pressing his face briefly into her hair.

“Nice jersey,” Miro said softly, a pleased smile on his face as he let her go.

“Told you I’d wear it,” Zoey shrugged.

“Still, it looks good on you,” Miro said simply.

“Well obviously, green is my colour, even if it clashes with my hair,” Zoey mused.

Miro laughed, tugging a pink curl lightly before stepping back a little.

“Ready to meet the team?” he asked.

His tone was a little hesitant, as if he was giving her an out, but as sweet as that was, it wasn’t necessary. It was about time he invited her down here.

“I am. Let’s do this,” Zoey nodded.

Miro huffed out a breath but stepped to the side, no longer shielding her from the view of the corridor. Some of the other players had filed out into the space as well, a few talking to the other people waiting, but there was a small group looking in her direction. Fuck.

Oh thank god, a friendly face.

“Esa! Hi!” Zoey said happily.

The smiling blonde gave her a huge hug, like they were old friends rather than only having met a few times over the past few months. Still, Zoey welcomed it, even more so as more unfamiliar friends appeared.

“Glad to see Miro isn’t hiding you anymore,” Esa mused.

“Don’t start,” Miro muttered, although he smiled slightly as Zoey laughed.

“You must be Zoey! Miro hasn’t mentioned any other pink-haired friends,”

Longer blonde curls, pretty face…

“Roope?” Zoey asked, hesitantly.

“The most important Finn, that’s me,” he grinned, earning a chorus of boos.

That started up the circle of guys introducing themselves.

“Joel, or Kivi, whichever you want,”

“Jani,”

That’s all the Finns then…

“Denis, or Guri,”

“Joe, or Pavs,”

“Jason, but most these guys call me Robo,”

“John, or Klinger,”

“And I’m Tyler,” the tattooed guy to her right grinned, “It’s nice to finally meet you! We were starting to think Miro had made you up,”

“Nah he’s just shy,” Zoey laughed, “I’m just glad Miro’s mentioned me at all,”

“Mentioned you? He talks about you all the time,” Tyler teased.

Zoey felt her cheeks heat with a light blush, but she just rolled her eyes fondly, smiling up at Miro, who smiled back down at her. This definitely hadn’t been close to meeting the full team, but it was definitely more than enough for a start.

“Vain ystäviä?” Roope smirked at her tall neighbour.

What?

“Turpa kiinni!” Miro said sharply, although his cheeks were dusted with a blush.

“So much for letting the rest of us in on the fun, eh?” Tyler laughed, shaking his head, “Are you joining us for drinks, Zoey?”

Oh how sweet.

“Ah, no, not this time. Miro and I are getting some food?”

That had been the plan this morning anyway?

Miro nodded to her, confirming their plans.

“Going out for food huh?” Esa said with an innocent smile.

What? How strange.

“Yeah, that fun tex-mex place near our apartments – it’s been a while,” Zoey shrugged.

“Been a while?” Klinger gasped dramatically.

“Shame on you Miro!” Tyler scowled playfully, shaking Miro’s shoulder.

That just set off a chorus of laughter, making Zoey giggle as well. It was clear how much the team loved her friend, even just by the way they teased him. It was sweet, endearing, to witness their joking interactions.

“You guys are the worst,” Miro sighed, his cheeks still flaring with a blush, “We’ve both been working long hours,”

“Stupid hours,” Zoey agreed, nudging him with her shoulder.

Miro nudged her back, firmly ignoring the knowing looks his teammates were giving him.

“Well we’ll leave the two of you to catch up,” Pavs said, “great game tonight kid,”

“It was great meeting you, Zoey!” Denis said with a sweet smile.

“Don’t let Miro keep you away for so long next time,” Roope grinned.

Zoey missed the sharp glare Miro sent at his friend, too busy shaking the hands of the men around her, but she looped her arm through his when she was done, catching his attention again.

“Ready to go?” Zoey asked, looking up at him.

“Definitely,” Miro muttered, narrowing his eyes at his laughing retreating friends.

“Good to know grumpy-Miro isn’t just around me,” Zoey teased.

Miro stuck his tongue out, making her laugh. “Morning-grumpy is different than team-grumpy,”

“Oh?” she mused.

“I chose you – I can’t get rid of them,” Miro shrugged.

This just made Zoey laugh harder as they walked across the parking lot to Miro’s car, the two of them getting in with matching smiles. Traffic wasn’t too terrible for once, so by the time Miro parked in their apartment parking lot and they’d walked across to the restaurant, Zoey was more than ready for a late dinner.

“Same as always?” Miro asked, barely glancing at the menu.

“Of course,” Zoey nodded.

Why change what was good?

To be honest, this was one of the first places Miro and Zoey had started going out to get food, just to be able to spend some time together outside their apartments, after long roadtrips and long late-night work projects. Miro always got the chicken gorditas, Zoey always got the pork tamales, and they shared 3 soft chicken tacos and 3 shrimp tacos. It was a fair amount of food, but between the two of it was never wasted. When it tasted that good, how could they not enjoy it?

Once they’d put their food and drinks order in, Miro slumped back in his chair, looking a little more tired than usual, making Zoey smile softly.

“Tough day?”

“Could’ve been worse,” Miro mused.

Then his face went serious, making Zoey sit up a little straighter in her seat.

“The team didn’t scare you away, did they? Like, I know they can be a bit much sometimes…”

“No, definitely not,” Zoey said quickly, interrupting with a smile, “You can’t get rid of me that easily,”

“I wouldn’t want to,” Miro replied.

The relief in his expression made her pause for a moment. Did he really think there was any possibility of her not wanting to be around him after meeting the team? What the hell?

“Hey, they’re your second family. I was always going to like them,” she said.

“Yeah?” Miro asked hopefully.

“Yeah, Miro. Always. Like you said, you can’t choose your family, and sometimes they annoy you like a blood family would, but you love them all the same,” Zoey said firmly.

Miro laughed loudly, nodding in agreement, all tension now gone from his shoulders.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” he grinned.

Zoey was just glad she helped him lose that anxiety. The fact that he was so worried about her made her heart clench, and not in a good way.

“Like, I love my sisters, Madison and Leah, and my brother David, but fuck knows I want to pour a drink over their heads sometimes. And I love my parents so much, but they can be a lot sometimes. They mean well, but they’re very intense,”

Miro just laughed. He’d met her parents so many times now, so he had to know what she meant.

“What about me? You don’t get annoyed with me, do you?” Miro asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re different,” Zoey said, shaking her head.

“Oh?”

“It’s like you said – you can’t choose family. I chose you,” Zoey said simply.

“We chose each other,” Miro corrected.

We chose each other.

Now why did that make her stomach fill with butterflies without her permission?

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!”

Zoey sang at the top of her lungs as she let herself into Miro’s apartment, earning an incredulous look but a soft laugh from the man himself.

“Hello to you too,” Miro laughed.

“Come on Scrooge, it’s almost the second week of December! You promised to let me help you decorate today!” Zoey grinned, undeterred.

Miro stared at her a little blankly. “I already have a tree up with the baubles,”

“And that is just the beginning,” Zoey said seriously.

He just smiled, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I know when I’m defeated. What are we starting with?”

“I have plenty of ideas in these,”

Miro’s eyes widened slightly at how full the two large bags were that Zoey held up, but nodded.

“I’ll follow you then, boss,”

Boss. Hah. She could get used to that.

They started off by placing three large white vanilla candles on his mantle place, each with a gold metal dish to sit in, all of which were surrounded by holly leaves, pine cones, and faux berries.

Next, they strung fairy lights around all the window frames in the living area, allowing their glow to be seen both inside and out.

Next, Zoey switched out Miro’s plain blanket and pillows on the sofa for festive red and gold ones, along with a couple of Christmas scenes, and a thicker fluffy blanket for those colder nights.

Next, they placed some reindeer figurines on the coffee table and on the kitchen island, wholly metallic-gold for a minimalist look that Zoey knew Miro preferred.

Next, they decorated the entrance hallway – a dried wreath for the inside of the front door as well as a gold wire mini tree for the console table, pairing that with a red lantern that had even more fairy lights entwined inside.

Finally, Zoey hung a big red stocking from the mantleplace, finishing the Christmas look with a touch of childhood memory.

“There. I think that should do it,” Zoey said, nodding firmly.

It was simple and classy, but still festive enough to feel that holiday spark of joy. Miro just smiled, glancing around his open-plan apartment with a look of wonder in his eyes.

“Thank you for this. I wouldn’t have even thought to do half of it. You always know what to do,” he murmured.

“Oh hush, don’t give me so much credit,” Zoey laughed, although she felt those pesky butterflies in her stomach again, “You would’ve done something eventually,”

“I wouldn’t have done this much or this tasteful, so thank you,” Miro said seriously.

He really was so sweet, wasn’t he?

“You’re welcome,” Zoey laughed, nudging him with her shoulder.

Miro just nudged her back, smiling again. “How about we celebrate with some hot chocolate?”

Zoey groaned in delight, immediately nodding. “Yes, absolutely! You are a gem,”

He grinned, ducking his head as he blushed lightly, making her laugh again.

“Go sit on the sofa, I’ll have it ready in just a moment,” Miro said softly.

Zoey did as he suggested with a smile, getting comfy on the sofa and leaving enough room so that the new fluffy blanket would be between them. Soon enough Miro joined her, a mug of hot chocolate in each hand. She accepted hers eagerly with a happy sigh, snuggling into the warmth of the room. Now, now, it felt like Christmas in here.

“So you do this every year, huh?” Miro asked, turning properly to face her.

“Mm, kind of. My parents always had the house professionally decorated every year – it’s a society thing – but we were always allowed to decorate our own bedrooms. I always loved that, personalising my own space in my own creative way,” Zoey shrugged, “I carried it on at college when I went, and obviously to my own apartment now, but I just love it. Really brings out the magic of the holidays,”

Miro nodded, smiling sweetly at her.

“We had things mostly minimalist, which was my mother’s taste, but we always had a fresh wreath for the front door as well as a real fir tree. My family had 3D paper stars that lit up on the tree, with straw reindeer and other things like that, and we always decorated all together. It’s been hard, not having that since I moved here,” Miro said, his smile turning a little sad.

Zoey reached out and squeezed his shoulder, her heart aching for him. “Sounds like a very different experience,” she said softly.

Her college friends had thought her family way of doing things was strange too, but Zoey didn’t know any different – it was all she had ever known, to do the holidays the way her family did. You can’t miss what you’ve never known, right? And Miro’s Christmas sounded so sweet and lovely, so she could understand why he missed it.

“I can’t even imagine not decorating a tree or anything by myself,” Miro said simply.

Zoey just laughed, shrugging. “It’s not even the professional decoration that’s different either though. My family always do a huge open house thing for the evening of Christmas Day,”

“Wait, what? Open house?” Miro frowned.

“Yeah! They literally invite around 100 people, and they have this huge fully catered buffet style evening,”

Miro’s eyes widened in shock, making her laugh. Yeah, she’d had that reaction before too.

“How many people?!” he said incredulously.

“I’m part of a very big Texan family, you know that,” she teased, shrugging, “Other than my siblings and their inlaws and kids, I’ve got a lot of aunts and uncles and cousins, and being part of our neighbourhood means that all my parents’ friends like to meet up and schmooze at any occasion,”

Miro huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It still seems crazy to me, having that many people over,”

“I’m used to it at this point. It just means that family and friends can enjoy some time together, with the immediate family just having the midday lunch together. It’s a fun evening, and a great way to catch up with people all in one go so we can actually relax in the days before new year’s eve,”

“Huh. That does sound nice,” Miro said, smiling softly, “Christmas Eve is the big day back home, and we do so much as a family together then too,”

“That sounds really great, Miro,”

Zoey already knew how important family was to the both of them – she was incredibly close with her own family and had never made any point in hiding that, and the closer she and Miro had come, the more he’d talked about his own family too. Not being able to spend the holidays with them? No, Zoey couldn’t imagine that. So her heart went out to him, even more than usual

“It’s hard sometimes,” he sighed.

“The furthest I’ve ever been away from home is Austin, for college – what you’re doing, what you’ve done, is so brave,” she said firmly.

Miro smiled softly, as if in thanks, and nodded.

“That’s one of the hardest things about living and working over here. I can’t always get back home…and I miss it,”

Miro opening up like this, about something so personal, was rare – and she knew she couldn’t waste this moment. No, Miro deserved to be happy, not sad, around Christmas. And she knew exactly what he needed.

“Do you want to come with me?” she asked.

“What?” he frowned.

“You already said you don’t have plans for Christmas Day, just maybe a team thing because you’re at Esa’s for Christmas Eve with all your Finns – why don’t you come with me to my family party on Christmas Day?” Zoey explained.

“I…I couldn’t intrude on your family time,” he spluttered.

“The open house party isn’t just family time. It really is full of family and friends, just whoever wants to come along to celebrate the holidays, and we are friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are,” Miro said quickly, making her smile.

“If you really don’t want to come, then that’s fine. I promise I won’t be offended,” she teased, earning a light blush, “how about you sleep on it, have a think, and let me know tomorrow?”

“I will. Thank you,” Miro said softly, his smile small but warm.

Zoey smiled back at him and took a sip of her hot chocolate. Mm, perfect. To be honest, she really hoped that Miro would say yes to coming to her family holiday party – he’d already let her decorate his apartment so what was one more Christmassy thing?

Group Chat: Finnish Mafia

Miro So I’ve just texted Cap but I thought I’d let you guys know too. I’m not going to the team thing on Christmas Day.

Esa Oh? Why not?

Miro typing…

Roope This should be good. What could be more interesting that us?

Esa More than you, Hinne? I can think of loads.

Roope Rude.

Miro You’re all ridiculous. I’m going to Zoey’s house for the evening.

Esa typing…

Roope typing…

Jani typing…

Joel typing…

Miro Someone say something

Jani I think that’s great! You’ll have a fun day.

Roope You’re spending Christmas Day with Zoey and her family?

Esa Christmas with Zoey’s family?

Joel I’m confused, I thought you weren’t dating?

Roope typing…

Miro No, we’re not dating. Zoey invited me because her family do a big open day buffet-style thing on Christmas Day. Starts at 6pm and goes on until late.

Roope Yeah that’s not convincing at all.

Esa You do know how this looks, right? Like, surely you can’t be this blind.

Miro Oh fuck you, we’re just friends.

Jani Seems like a bit more than friends, Miro, sorry to say.

Miro You’re meant to be the nice one.

Roope Rude.

Miro It’s not a big deal, seriously. There’s going to be like 100 people there. Zoey invited me because we were talking about Christmas with family and I was saying how much I missed them over the holidays. It’s really hard sometimes, being so far away.

Joel I can understand that.

Esa Me too. We all can. Sounds like a big fancy party though. Where do her parents live?

Miro Her family home is in the north of university park, near Preston Hollow – it’s only a 15 minute drive out of Downtown Dallas.

Roope Ooh fancy, get it Miro.

Miro You’re the worst

Roope Incorrect. Just…open your eyes while you’re there, yeah? Maybe you’ll be able to finally see what we see.

Esa He’s got a point, Miro, as much as I hate to admit it.

Roope Rude.

Christmas Day finally arrived, the weeks flying by with end of year projects for Zoey and hard-fought games for Miro, but before Zoey knew it they were in Miro’s car, driving out of the city to her family home. She’d made a huge batch of salted caramel chocolate brownies earlier than day for the party, all now cut up into perfect squares on a couple of serving platters in the back of the car, and Miro had brought a couple of nice bottles of whisky, despite Zoey saying it wasn’t necessary.

(I have to bring something, Zo, I can’t just turn up!)

It was easy to see which house was her parents’ as they drove up the street, Miro finding a space not too far down to park. As always, the house was lavishly decorated with fairy lights everywhere, as well as the oversized candy canes lining each side of the path up to the house. His eyes were a little wide as they walked up towards the front door, gifts in hand, and he started a little as the door swung open before they even got there.

“Zoey! Miro! You made it!”

“Nice to see you too mom,” Zoey grinned, “Merry Christmas,”

She walked into the house and straight into her mom’s arms, Miro following her. Thankfully her dad was standing by the front door too, and he greeted Miro with an amused smile and a handshake.

“Your home is beautiful, Mrs Clark,”

“Oh thank you darling!” her mom said happily, “But how many times have I told you to call me Lottie?”

“Uh, sorry Mrs…Lottie,”

“Mom, be nice,” Zoey mused, “Or I won’t give you these brownies,”

“I’m on my best behaviour,” she winked.

Zoey’s dad rolled his eyes fondly, shaking his head as his wife strolled off to the kitchen with Zoey’s platters in hand.

“I would apologise but she just loves Christmas so much,” her dad shrugged.

“Never apologise dad. We wouldn’t have her any other way,” Zoey laughed, Miro nodding and laughing too.

“These are for you,” Miro said, holding out the bottles of whiskey to her dad, “Thank you for having me in your home on the holidays,”

“You are always welcome, Miro. Any friend of Zo’s is a friend of ours,” he said, grinning, “But I will happily accept your gift,”

Yeah, she thought that might be the case.

“Leah! Madison! Come greet your sister!”

Miro jumped slightly at her dad’s loud call, but smiled as the two women walked over. Zoey didn’t look much like her sisters – they were definitely spitting imagines of their mom whereas Zoey looked a lot more like their dad. Both were blonde to Zoey’s brunette (and pink), and both her brown eyes to Zoey’s blue. Both were average height where Zoey was taller than average. Both were skinny and toned where Zoey…wasn’t. But that didn’t mean she loved them any less.

Her dad’s loud call also attracted the attention of her brother David, who walked across the room to join them.

“I’d best be off to mingle like a good host,” her dad grinned, “But I’ll catch up with you again later, Miro. Please help yourself to drinks and food,”

Yes, drinks. Those would definitely be needed.

“Zoey! Look at you in that gorgeous dress,” Madison grinned.

“Thanks, Mads, you look amazing as always,” Zoey said, smiling back, “This is Miro,”

“Oh I didn’t know you were bringing a date!” Leah said, eyes wide.

Hah. As if.

Zoey quickly shook her head, laughing. “No, no, Miro is my neighbour, one of my best friends,”

“Ah, yes, of course! The hockey player,” David grinned.

“That’s me,” Miro nodded, smiling, “Although I understand that your family are mostly football fans?”

“Let’s Go Cowboys!”

That earned a cheer from oblivious bystanders in the room, making their small group laugh.

“I’m Madison. I’m the oldest. My husband and two brats are somewhere around here,” Madison mused.

“I’m Leah. I’m the next oldest and my husband and little menace are wherever Mads’ family are,” Leah laughed.

“And I’m David. My wife is in the kitchen fixing up a punch that means I can drive home tonight,” David finished, “Lord knows she itching to crack into the red wine,”

“It’s great to meet you all,” Miro said, smiling, “I’ve heard a lot about all of you,”

“So you’re from Finland, right?” Madison asked.

“Yeah, that’s right, from a city called Espoo,” Miro nodded.

“I’m just glad Zo thought to invite you – no-one should be away from family on Christmas!” Leah said, with a sad smile.

Miro smiled back, although his smile was shaky, and Zoey knew she wasn’t the only one who noticed. Fuck, not a good start.

“Come on, let’s get some food before all the kids rush up from the basement, yeah?” David suggested.

“That sounds good,”

The five of them walked through the large living room, skirting around the crowd that was already filling the space, before walking

As always, the food smelled amazing.

“Wow, this is a lot,” Miro said, more than a little shocked.

“Mom likes to go all out, really get a bit of everything for everyone,” Madison explained.

“All Southern, of course,” Leah said, rolling her eyes fondly.

Typical Charlotte Clark – it wouldn’t be any other way.

“So what kinds of things are there to eat?” Miro asked.

“Well it’s all catered, of course. But there’s all the barbecued meat – ribs, smoked turkey, fried turkey, a big beef tenderloin, then usually a nutroast for any random non-meat eaters. Then there’s all the usual trimmings – three different kinds of potatoes, buttered green beans, roasted carrots, corn and so on. And the desserts – there’s way too many to name as most change every year, but there’s always a couple of pecan pies, peach cobbler, fruit cake and some kind of chocolate yule log,” David listed.

“My god,” Miro gasped.

That earned a round of laughter, and a light blush from Miro.

“Probably a little different than you’re used to?” Madison mused.

“Just a little bit,” Miro nodded, sheepishly.

Her mom’s holiday catering was a bit over the top, Zoey could admit that, but there was so much choice and she loved that. All holiday food was a hit in her house – and considering how many people there were here tonight? It was necessary.

“Don’t you normally have fish on Christmas?” Zoey asked, thinking back to a conversation they’d had while they were decorating.

“You remembered!” Miro grinned.

Zoey just grinned back at him, missing the looks shared between her siblings.

“What else do you usually eat?” Leah asked, curious.

Miro bit his bottom lip as he thought, the five of them getting into the small queue of people.

“Well we have the graavilohi, the marinated salmon. Then there’s oulukinkku, which is ham covered with a mixture of mustard and breadcrumb. As sides, my family always has rosolli, which is a salad that includes potatoes, beetroot, carrots or onions,”

“Jeez, that is different,” David laughed.

“Sounds great though?”

Zoey couldn’t believe how well Miro was fitting in with her family. It was a little unbelievable, but she definitely wasn’t going to complain – if her siblings were this welcoming, then she knew everyone else would be even more so.

“We also have these treats called piparkakku, which is like a spiced ginger cookie,” Miro added.

“Oh wow, they sound great,” Zoey said, eyes wide.

“They are,” Miro said, smiling down at her, “I’ll have to see if I can get the family recipe from my mother – she’ll love if we made them over here,”

“That sounds perfect,”

“You two are so sweet,” Leah sighed happily.

Huh?

“What?” Zoey frowned.

Madison flicked Leah in the head before smiling at her youngest sister. “Nothing. I love your friendship – and I’m glad you’ve got a friend so close now that you’ve moved out,”

“It was fate, I think,” Miro said, nodding.

Fate. Wow.

“Whatever makes dad happy makes mom happy,” David grinned, “Now, let’s get you some good food!”

Another hour or so went by, Zoey introducing Miro to all her parents’ party guests, and she was getting a little tired of the raised eyebrows that resulted from her explaining that they were neighbours. Including to her own family members. Was it such a crime for a guy and girl to be friends? It was 2021 for fuck’s sake! Thankfully, Miro was being his usual angel self, never leaving her glass of wine empty (although she was pacing herself), and he was drinking a non-alcoholic fruit punch that David’s wife had put together for the designated drivers. To be able to combine her two worlds like this was a blessing, and Zoey knew how lucky she was that her best guy friend and her family got along so well. Not that she thought they wouldn’t, but still, not this well.

Speaking of, Miro was currently enveloped in a circle of Leah’s husband’s friends, talking about fuck knows what, but he was smiling so he clearly didn’t need an escape route. Zoey took the moment to retreat to the kitchen for a break from the circus, pouring herself a fresh glass of wine to cool down.

“Zoey! My god, look at you!”

She turned on her heels, ready with a polite smile, before she saw who it was. Amelia, one of her neighbour’s, and one of the only girls in the neighbourhood that was Zoey’s age. Thank fuck she could relax a little.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Zoey grinned, slumping against the counter.

Amelia just grinned back, hoping up on the counter next to her, swinging her heeled feet.

“Hiding from my mom. She’s trying to set me up with Flossie’s son,” Amelia said cheerfully.

Zoey just grimaced, making Amelia cackle. The grimace was all that needed to be said – Flossie’s son was a misogynist ass who slicked his hair back with too much hair oil. Not a catch.

“It’s been so long though – how are you?” Amelia asked.

“Yeah, I’m really good. Work is going great, and I’m loving living by myself,”

“Look at you, out in the world and thriving,” Amelia grinned.

“Cheers to that,” Zoey laughed.

Amelia clinked her wine glass against Zoey’s, the two of them taking a celebratory drink each.

“You don’t look entirely happy though,” Amelia said suddenly, glancing at Zoey’s tense frame.

Decades of knowing someone has its benefits, obviously.

“Nothing’s wrong, as such? Like, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see my whole family again. But it would be even better if everyone stopped asking me if I’m in a relationship with the friend I brought with me,” Zoey sighed.

“Wait, you and Miro aren’t a couple?” Amelia said, surprised.

“Not you too!” Zoey groaned.

Amelia just laughed, quickly shaking her head. “I really don’t mean it like it. It’s just…the easy chemistry the two of you have? I can see why your family might think it’s more than just friends,”

What? Zoey immediately frowned. “I don’t understand,”

Amelia looked at her, just looked at her, before laughing softly.

“Shit, you really don’t see it, do you?” she said, a little incredulously.

“See what?” Zoey pressed.

“Okay, sure, I’ll point out the obvious. He has a super serious resting face, but as soon as you’re in his eyeline his whole expression lights up. You’re always searching for him in a room, and your shoulders lose their tension when you spot him. The way you speak to each other just flows like you’ve known each other your whole lives, when you’ve only been neighbours for, what, half a year? You’re so in sync, you’re clearly comfortable with each other, and I’ve never seen you smile like this. It’s just…it feels like you could be a couple,”

Zoey’s mind started racing with Amelia’s words, trying to process everything she was saying but coming up blank. This couldn’t be real, right? That couldn’t be how people view her and Miro, could it?

“Well I can see I short-circuited something there,” Amelia mused, before biting her bottom lip, “Look, just think about it, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Zoey murmured.

Amelia squeezed her shoulder and hopped down from the counter, walking away, leaving Zoey in the kitchen alone with her thoughts. Her swimming, racing, overwhelmed thoughts. Was Amelia right? Did she really act like that around Miro? Did Miro act like that around her?

“Hey, there you are,”

Oh fuck, the man in question.

“Hey, Miro. I was just talking to Amelia, my neighbour,” Zoey explained, hoping her smile wasn’t too strained.

Naturally Miro saw right through it.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?” he frowned, stepping closer to her.

Zoey’s breath hitched in her throat at the warmth of his hand on her arm, but found herself nodding.

“Yeah, I’m fine. She just said some things that got me thinking, that’s all,” Zoey nodded.

“Are you sure?” Miro pressed, “You look a little spooked, Zo,”

She swallowed heavily but nodded. His care, his genuine sweet concern, only made her dangerous thoughts swirl even more. Which she couldn’t allow right now.

“I promise,” Zoey nodded, “Just trying to process, that’s all,”

“Alright, if you’re sure. Anyway, I came to find you because some of your cousins are putting a holiday movie on, if you wanted to watch that to avoid mingling with people?”

“You know me so well,” Zoey mused.

He really did. Which again, didn’t help.

The two of them walked quietly to the movie room, a cosy den with plenty of sofas and beanbags for everyone to sit on, and there were already a dozen people in there when Miro and Zoey walked in. He gently guided her to a two-seater sofa, throwing his arm round her shoulders to let him snuggle into his side as they always did when they watched movies together.

As they always did. Fuck.

Was Amelia really right?

From across the room, the devil herself caught eyes with Zoey and gave her a soft smile. It was all Zoey could do to smile weakly at Amelia in return, her mind still spinning. Zoey found herself barely able to concentrate on the movie, too focused on the feel of Miro’s arm warm across her shoulders and the beat of his heart where her head rested on his chest. It was like Amelia’s words had unlocked a dam, and everything was rushing out in the most overwhelming tidalwave.

How had she not noticed anything before?

Why had her feelings stayed hidden until now?

Did Miro even feel the same way?

How could she even find out?

“Hey, Zo?”

Zoey looked up at Miro’s soft voice, breaking her out of her thoughts, but her breath hitched in her throat as she realised how close their faces were. Fuck. Miro also seemed to freeze, his blue eyes darker than usual, and the moment Zoey’s eyes dropped to his lips, she knew she was in trouble. As if he couldn’t help himself, Miro tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and Zoey’s heart clenched at the sight of the soft pink wetness, before she was finally able to tear her eyes away to look back up at his eyes properly. His lips were parted, his brow furrowed, but there was an undeniable thrum in the moment linking them, and it was all Zoey could do not to drown.

Never had she felt a connection like this before.

“Zoey…” Miro murmured.

Fuck. Oh fuck.

What was happe…

An explosion on screen made them both flinch, irreparably breaking the moment, and Zoey quickly looked back at the screen with wide eyes and a pounding heart. She could feel the faster beat of Miro’s heart too, and his hand on her shoulder was noticeably tenser.

Fuck. Fuck.

What had just happened?

They barely spoke for the remainder of the night, emerging from the movie den after the film finished to circle around the guests again, mostly staying with her parents. It wasn’t awkward, as such, but Miro was definitely quieter, and Zoey couldn’t stop the feeling of her heart sinking. It was one thing to discover her own feelings, but to feel them slowly being shredded only hours later? It was agonising, awful, heartbreaking.

And there was nothing she could do.

They made their escape just before midnight, Zoey giving her parents a tighter hug than usual, before Miro started the drive home. Thankfully the traffic was light, so while the car ride was just as akward, it could’ve been worse.

Had she made a fool of herself, crossing a line by blurring the lines of their friendship? She knew she couldn’t have been the only one that felt that moment when the two of them were watching the movie – she saw the look in his eyes, the quickness of his breath, as fleeting as it was. But what could she do about it? The fact that he hadn’t said anything to her for the rest of the evening made her hesitant to bring it up at all – ruining the balance of her friendship and losing his friendship entirely? No, that wasn’t something she could bring herself to do.

So she sat there in silence, as did he, the radio playing Christmas music on a loop.

It was agonising in its own way, after a day that had opened her eyes to possibilities she hadn’t considered before, but every time she steeled herself to say anything, the words dried up in her throat. What a way to end Christmas. Fuck.

They walked up to their apartments in that same silence, the elevator leaving them looking at each other, but Miro just averted his eyes, his eyes stormy as if he was lost in thought. If only he would share those thoughts, to spare her the agony.

But eventually they had to separate, and it was like a punch to the chest.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight. I had a great time,” Miro said, finally looking at her.

“You’re always welcome, you know that. I had a great time too,”

And she was only lying a little bit.

“Merry Christmas Zo,” Miro said quietly.

“Merry Christmas,” she murmured

Miro bit his bottom lip, before walking into his apartment. Zoey wasted no time in walking into her own, and the moment that her door was closed, she felt tears springing to her eyes. Before tonight, she could’ve gone on blissfully ignorant. But now, now she couldn’t stop the emotions hitting her with full force.

This wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve this. But there was nothing she could do.

Days passed.

4 days to be exact, and it was now the morning of the 5th day, the 30th December.

Zoey hadn’t seen Miro in person since they parted on Christmas Day, and her heart was mostly used to the aching. Thankfully she’d been able to use the excuse of working to hide away a little, only taking a break in the middle to see a couple of high school friends, and then lunch with her mom yesterday. But it wasn’t the same, not seeing Miro’s face, hanging out with him like she did before Christmas Day.

They’d texted of course, Zoey congratulating him on a win on his game at home on the 27th (which she’d gone to, as always) as well as his away game on the 29th, but they hadn’t run across each other, and neither had ventured into the other’s apartment to chill out like they usually did. It felt stupid, like they were both building up a molehill into a mountain, but it was too late now. She hated it – hated the awkwardness and the anxiety and the reduction in their friendship. It wasn’t fair. But what could she do?

After finishing work for the day, Zoey had gone out for a walk, hoping the cooler air would clear her head. It had helped a little bit, even just to get her out of her work funk ahead of two days off, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was. So she decided to make a new year’s resolution – she was going to repair her friendship with Miro. Nothing was worth losing her rock, nothing, and she couldn’t start the new year with the cracks between them.

It was enough to lift her spirits anyway, to give her something to look forward to for the rest of her walk home, and she entered the elevator with a smile on her face.

But standing outside her apartment, knocking on the door, was Miro. He looked at her coming out of the elevator, surprise on his face, before he smiled hopefully.

“Hey, Zo,”

Maybe the new year’s resolution wasn’t needed after all.

“Hey stranger, it’s been a while,” Zoey said hesitantly, walking up to her front door.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Miro winced.

“No, don’t apologise. I know you’ve been busy, had an away game,” she shrugged, smiling a little.

She could never begrudge him that.

“It wasn’t just that,” Miro said, shaking his head.

Oh.

“Oh?” she said lightly.

“Can I come in?” Miro asked hopefully.

How could she deny him that?

So she opened her front door, Miro entering the apartment behind her, and she shut the door with a racing heart. What did he want to say that he wanted to do in private?

“Can we sit down?” Miro asked.

Well now it felt serious. But Zoey nodded, walking over to the sofa and settling down, trying to get comfortable as Miro sat right next to her. He was chewing his bottom lip as he turned his body to face her, clearly deep in thought, but Zoey just waited him out. She could be patient – she always had been throughout their friendship – because she could clearly see how much effort he was putting into this. Whatever it was.

Then he cleared his throat.

“Do you remember back at that game you came to just before we talked about Christmas plans, and Roope was teasing me about something, and I said to you don’t worry about it when you asked later?” Miro said suddenly.

She frowned at his words, but cast her mind back, vaguely recalling Roope’s smirk as well as Miro’s faint blush and annoyance. “Yeah, kind of. What about it?”

“Roope was teasing me about us being just friends, like he didn’t believe it,” Miro admitted, “Even then, people could see what we couldn’t,”

“Vain ystäviä?” Roope smirked.

“Turpa kiinni!” Miro said sharply.

Zoey felt her mouth dry up as her cheeks flooded with heat. That was the last thing she thought he was going to say. Really? That’s really what Roope thought and said?

Oh fuck.

“He said that, did he?” she asked, her voice cracking.

People could see what we couldn’t.

“Please tell me I haven’t been driving myself crazy since Christmas Day for no reason,” Miro murmured.

Oh fuck.

“Depends what you mean,” Zoey said hesitantly.

Miro huffed out a breath, but wasn’t deterred.

“People have always teased me about how close we’ve been growing. I…I didn’t want to think about it, pushed back any considerations, because I treasure our friendship,”

“I treasure our friendship too, Miro,” Zoey said, a little helpless.

“But Christmas Day…”

He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” Zoey sighed.

So he had noticed the moment between them. And it had tormented him?

“I’m just going to say it,” Miro mumbled.

What?

Oh.

“Miro…” she murmured.

“I like you, Zo. So much,”

Oh fuck. Zoey felt her whole body freeze, like his confession had rebooted her completely. He likes her? Likes her likes her?

“I didn’t realise how much until we weren’t talking properly this week, as stupid as that sounds, and I hated it. Not seeing you and not talking to you properly was destroying me, and I feel so stupid for not understanding how I felt until it was too late,” Miro said miserably.

“It’s not too late,” Zoey blurted.

“No?” Miro asked, brow furrowed.

She quickly shook her head, smiling. This was it – it was her time to confess. If he could be brave, then so could she.

“I really like you too, Miro. As so much more than a friend. I was in denial too, I guess. It wasn’t until Amelia pointed out all the little things that we did that made people think we were a couple, that I realised that all those little things were so affectionate and so sweet, and I wanted them to be real so much that my heart ached. I hadn’t considered us until she opened my eyes,”

“I thought something had happened in the kitchen,” Miro mused.

“And then that moment during the movie…”

Miro nodded, blushing, as Zoey trailed off.

“I almost kissed you in front of everyone. But then I stopped when I remembered where we were. That wouldn’t have been fair on you, not in the slightest. And I didn’t want your cousins as an audience,”

The only thing Zoey could do was laugh, imaging the scandal, resting her head on his shoulder as the laughter shook her body. Miro smiled to himself, stroking a hand over her washed-out pink hair, until she lifted her head again, and he moved his hand to cup her face, making Zoey inhale sharply.

“I wish things hadn’t gotten messed up,” he sighed.

“Me too. But it was clearly worth it, getting us both to realise how we felt,” Zoey said, smiling a little shyly.

Miro nodded, his thumb stroking over her cheek gently before he dropped his hand from her face. But he didn’t drop his smile. “So we’re trying this then? Us?” he said hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Zoey said, her throat thick with emotion.

Miro just smiled helplessly, completely sappy, and it was all Zoey could do to smile back at him the same way.

“We’ve got a game tomorrow – would you come? And then come out for drinks afterwards?” Miro asked.

“You want me to come out to drinks with the team on new year’s eve?” Zoey repeated, a little incredulously.

That felt serious. Like, officially serious.

But Miro nodded, not a hint of hesitancy on his face.

“Yeah, I want you to come. As…as my girlfriend?”

Zoey’s breath hitched in her throat but she found herself nodding, a stupid smile spreading across her lips.

“Girlfriend, huh?” she laughed, a little helplessly.

“I could never be casual, not with you,” Miro said simply, smiling softly.

Well, that said it all, didn’t it?

“Girlfriend it is,” she murmured, “And you haven’t even taken me on a date,”

“Let’s go to dinner. Right now,” Miro suggested.

What was this?

“Who is this impulsive Miro?” she mused.

“Not impulsive,” he said quickly, “Decisive. I’ve wasted…we’ve wasted so much time already. I know what I want – I’m hoping you want the same?”

Zoey nodded, not hesitating at all. “Of course I do, Miro. I haven’t been able to think of anything else since Christmas Day,”

Miro cursed under his breath, taking her hands in his.

“I wish I hadn’t been so scared to say anything. I should’ve told you how I felt the moment I realised on Christmas Day,”

“Hey, no, we got there eventually, right?”

Miro nodded, smiling softly, sweetly, and it warmed Zoey’s heart completely.

“Are you sure you can handle being my boyfriend though? I’m a whole lot of woman,” Zoey mused.

“Oh I’m up for the challenge,” Miro grinned sharply, sending a thrill through Zoey’s body, “I can’t wait to get to know you as…more than a friend,”

Well bring on the New Year – and what a new year it was going to be. She couldn’t wait either.

#my writing #miro heiskanen #miro heiskanen fic #miro heiskanen fanfic #miro heiskanen imagine #miro heiskanen x oc #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic

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syllvane · 3 years

Text

breakfast- natahsa romanoff x reader

a/n: this was requested by anon! this is 4.5k words.

You still haven’t gotten used to the quiet that comes with half of the population being gone, but you can’t quite remember what it was like before either- you vaguely remember the hustle and bustle of life before the Blip, but that's all it’s become. A memory, one that seems to become harder to recall each and every day.

“What are you doing here so early?”

You nearly dropped the groceries that you had been holding, startled by Natasha’s voice in the hallway leading into the kitchen.

“You scared me- you’re lucky I wasn’t holding the eggs or something.”

Natasha looked at you somewhat amused, making her way into the kitchen and leaning against one of the counters.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You glanced at her, smiling before turning back to where you were unloading the groceries.

“I was going to surprise you with breakfast, though I suppose it was silly to think I could surprise a spy.”

You didn’t miss the small smile that appeared on her face as you started unloading the groceries anyways, getting ready to cook.

“Silly, maybe, but also sweet. What can I do to help?” Natasha asked and you shook your head, pointing at her with the plastic spoon you had grabbed.

“Sit down, you’ve been doing a lot these past couple months- too much, I would argue. Let me do something for you.”

“You’re selling yourself short. You’ve been doing a lot around here as well,” Natasha protested and you gave her a pointed look before going back to cooking.

“If you really want to do something, then you can make us coffee. But nothing else. I want you to relax.”

“Coffee, I can do that,” She mumbled, springing into action, her arm brushing against yours as she filled up the coffee maker with hot water.

The next time you try to surprise her with breakfast is a little under a week later and when you walk into the Avengers compound, you are met with the smell of freshly cooked breakfast.

Damn her.

You walked into the kitchen, still carrying groceries, to see that Natasha had cooked what could only be described as a feast.

She looked at you, proud that she had one-upped you.

“How did you know?” You asked her, simply setting the groceries to the side.

She looked at you as if she was considering whether to lie or not.

“I didn’t,” She said honestly and almost a bit sheepishly. “I cooked every morning hoping that you’d show up one of these days. I know it’s silly.”

“It’s not, it’s…” You looked over the different plates of food as if one of them held the right words. “It’s incredibly sweet. I’ll make the coffee?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Breakfast becomes a regular occurrence for the two of you and although half of the universe had to disappear for the two of you to grow closer, you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Hey,” Natasha said, drawing your attention as the two of you washed dishes side by side, your arms touching each other. “I’m going to have to cancel our breakfast date on Thursday. I think I may have a lead on Clint and so I want to go and see it for myself.”

“You want company?” You asked without hesitation and she looked at you.

“I don’t want to bother you and besides, I don’t think anything will come of it.”

“Okay well, one, you could never bother me, and two, even if nothing comes out of it, you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

She didn’t say anything, though a small smile appeared on her face as she loaded the last of the plates and bowls into the dishwasher.

Though the prospect of you coming with seemed to make her happy for reasons she didn’t quite understand, she pushed you away.

“I’ll be fine alone, I promise.”

“Okay, if you promise,” You said, flicking a bit of the soapy water at her.

She stopped moving and looked at you incredulously.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Did what, this?” You asked, doing it again, more boldly this time

She looked at you and though everything about her face screamed ‘serious’, her eyes were alight with playfulness.

She stalked back over towards the sink and although you backed away and lifted your arms to protect yourself, she splashed you nonetheless.

Grabbing the nearest ingredient towards you, you lifted a hand full of flour and aimed it towards her.

“You don’t have to do this,” She said, walking towards you slowly with her hands lifted up as if she was surrendering. “Just drop-”

Before she can finish her sentence, you threw the flour at her.

Her face is covered in flour, clumps of it sticking to her face where you had splashed water previously and she stared at you in surprise, a smile still on her face.

Before you could even process what she was doing, she had her own handful of flour and threw it onto you, the flour coating your clothes and face, as well as the counters and the floor.

You lunged for the flour but she caught your wrist, your eyes meeting hers.

You reached your other hand towards it and she caught that as well, pulling you close to her, closer than you had ever been to her.

“Don’t,” She said softly, her eyes bright. “Don’t start a fight that you can’t win.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” You asked and she let go of your wrists, letting your hands fall back to your side and taking a step backwards.

“We should clean this up- Steve’s going to throw a fit if he sees this mess.”

“You have a meeting in a little bit, you can go. I got this.”

“Nonsense, I threw just as much flour as you. You take the island and the counters, I’ll take the cabinets and floors. It’ll get done quicker this way.”

“Nat-”

“Just… let me help you. Please.”

“You’re impossible,” You said but didn’t protest against her helping any longer.

As Natasha pointed out, the kitchen was completely clean in half of the time that it would’ve taken for your to clean it alone, leaving Natasha more than enough time to change her clothes and to get any remnants of flour off of her face and out of her hair before her meeting.

Well, almost all of it.

“Nat, wait!” You yelled, running after her before she turned the holographs on.

She turned and looked at you, concerned.

“What is it?”

“You just had a little…”

You got close to her and using your thumb, you wiped some flour off of her face that she hadn’t noticed.

“Thank you,” She said softly and the two of you just stood there like that for a couple of seconds before you pulled yourself away.

“Right. Have a good meeting, Natasha,” You said before turning away, not waiting for her response.

That’s the last time you have a full conversation with her before she goes looking for Clint.

You’re almost done making breakfast when she enters through the front door, looking worn out and exhausted, dropping her bag onto the floor.

She continued into the kitchen, blinking when she noticed you staring at her and the food that you had already set onto the table.

“How did you…” She sniffed, wiping her nose, searching for the words.

You turned the stove burner off and closed the distance between the two of you, pulling her into a tight hug.

She hugged you back just as tightly as if you were a lifeboat and she was drowning in the middle of the ocean.

“I don’t know who he is anymore. I don’t… I don’t recognize the man who did those things.”

“I know, Nat.”

“And he acts like we didn’t lose everything as well. We lost everything as well and yet, we continue, no matter how much we’ve lost, because we don’t have the luxury of playing vigilante. Some of us have a world that we’re trying to put back together, you know?”

“I know,” You said softly.

She doesn’t say anything for a while, just stands there in your arms.

“I miss Yelena. I miss Alexei and Melina. I miss them so much it feels like I’m just drowning in it. Like it’s just going to swallow me whole one day.”

“Tell me about them.”

And so she does.

She tells you about Ohio and about life in between her time in the Red Room. She tells you about the destruction of the Red Room and about Yelena buying and giving to Natasha the first item of clothing that she had ever bought. She tells you about forest stars and photo booths and blue hair dye.

She tells you more than she has ever told anyone else, more than she will ever tell anyone else.

And eventually, she lets go.

Her face is red from tears, but neither of you point it out, both of you sitting down at the table and eating breakfast.

“I think this is the first proper meal I’ve had in days,” She said and you frowned at her, your eyes narrowing.

“You need to take better care of yourself. When was the last time you slept?”

She looked away from your eyes, back towards the plate of food.

“Haven’t since I left,” She said quietly, her eyes flickering back up towards yours to see your reaction.

The creases by your eyes deepened.

“Natasha-”

“In all fairness, I was going to go to sleep as soon as I got back, but someone surprised me with breakfast,” She said, punctuating her sentence with a forkful of food.

“Okay, but we’re going to sleep right after you’re done, okay?”

“‘We’?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m tired too,” You said sheepishly and in her tiredness, she did not push you further on it.

She pushed her plate away from her a little, standing up and taking your hand.

“We can do dishes later. Let’s go to sleep,” She said and you stood up, letting her lead you to her bedroom.

She pulled you onto her bed and you fell asleep in her arms, which was somehow only the second most romantic thing you had done with Natasha Romanoff.

The first was, of course, falling in love with her.

If someone had asked you to point out a specific month or day that you had fallen in love with her, you wouldn’t know where to begin.

Months of friendship blended together with something more and you weren’t quite sure where your feelings for her began and where they ended, where they had transitioned into something more, something greater.

It didn’t really matter, you supposed- months passed since her return from looking for Clint and things continued on as normal, with breakfasts and small touches, gestures from her that could be easily misconstrued as something more than friendship.

You didn’t mind the closeness though, the way her hands always seemed to graze over yours when reaching for the same thing or the way her arm would touch yours when the two of you did the dishes.

You didn’t mind it, just wished for more of it. Wished that she would just take your hand outright one day.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? Dinner is a little out of your wheelhouse,” Natasha joked and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure I’ll manage. Is it just Steve that’s coming tonight or are we getting the whole gang back together?”

“Just Steve, I’m pretty sure. Banner might come as well, but Pepper and Tony aren’t coming for sure.”

“Well, at least that minimizes the chances of a fight breaking out.”

“I can start throwing punches if needed,” She offered and you looked at her, a small smile on your lips.

“Appreciate the offer, but I think we’re good.”

“Well, if you change your mind…”

“I’ll let you know,” You smiled. “Now are you going to help me make dinner or not?”

The two of you easily fell into a rhythm while you cooked, anticipating each other’s needs before the other even said anything. Natasha would open her mouth to ask for a knife to find that you were already setting it down beside her.

“You know, I think we make a good team,” You said, your hands on your hips as you looked over all the hard work that the two of you had done.

Natasha wiped her hands on a towel before standing beside you, nodding.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this kitchen used before, not like this,” Steve noted, standing in the doorway behind the two of you.

Though both of you were well-trained in stealth and surveillance, you almost jumped when you heard Steve’s voice.

“Don’t sneak up on us like that!” You scolded Steve and before you even asked for it, Natasha handed you the towel that she had been holding and you threw it at him.

He held his hands up in defense, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiled. He caught it with ease and set it down on the island.

“Now, there’s no need for violence. It smells great in here, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day where she would be cooking,” He said, motioning towards Natasha.

“She’s working on it,” You joked and Natasha gave you a pointed look, suddenly wishing that she still had her towel. She settled for swatting at your arm with her hand. “Hey! Like the old man said, no need for violence. I was just joking.”

“What, I’m five minutes late and you guys are already fighting?” Bruce asked, walking in the front door.

“You came!” You smiled widely, walking over to the scientist and hugging him.

Steve looked back at Natasha.

“Can you believe that? He gets a hug and I get a towel thrown at me.”

Natasha let out a breathy laugh.

“You startled her, that was your first mistake.”

Steve smiled as well before grabbing one of the various dishes that the two of you had made and bringing it to the dining table.

Natasha started moving the dishes as well, giving a small, cursory nod to Bruce as he sat down.

You swatted at Steve’s arm.

“Dude, you need to sit down. You’re a guest.”

Steve looked at Natasha, pointing at you.

“Do you see this? She’s going to injure me.”

You shot him a playful glare before helping Natasha with the rest of the dishes and the silverware, setting plates down in front of everyone and taking a seat next to Natasha, across from Steve and Bruce.

Dinner started off lighthearted, the four of your digging into the food.

You talked of past stories and past missions and science and of everything but the unavoidable present, the reality that everyone had been stuck in for more than a year now.

It seemed crazy when you thought about it like that, that half of the population had been gone for over a year, a full rotation around the sun without some of your favorite people.

It was dark outside when the conversation shifted.

“So, how have you guys been with… everything?” Natasha asked and a hush fell around the table.

“I don’t know if it’ll ever get any easier,” Steve said honestly.

“I don’t know how it could get worse,” Natasha retorted, though everyone already knew the answer.

“Another year. Another two, another ten,” Bruce said solemnly before taking another sip of the water that was in front of him. He checked his watch and blinked, realizing for the first time how late it had gotten. “Sorry to leave on that note, but I should get going, guys. Didn’t realize how late it was.”

“I’m glad you came. It was nice seeing you again,” You said genuinely, standing up from the table and walking over to hug him.

He hugged you back, giving Natasha a little wave and Steve a pat on the back before you walked him out of the kitchen, towards the front door.

“You two make a good couple, you know. I didn’t realize the two of you were even dating, but you two seem to make each other very happy.”

“Thank you, but we’re not dating,” Natasha said, her lips pressed together in a tight smile.

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Are you sure? Because with the way the two of you were looking at each other, I would’ve sworn otherwise.”

“Positive,” Natasha said, trying to stop herself from blushing.

“What are you two talking about?” You asked, walking back into the room.

Steve stood up from where he was sitting and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re leaving us too?”

“Like Bruce pointed out, it’s getting late. It was so nice seeing both of you.”

You stood there for a minute before walking to where he was standing and hugging him.

“Don’t be a stranger, Steve. You are always welcome here,” You said before taking a step back.

He smiled back at you.

“I would hope so- I still technically work here, right?”

“Did Tony ever rehire you?” You wondered out loud.

“Did he ever rehire you?” He shot back and you shrugged.

“Fair point.”

“Drive safe, old man,” Natasha said before Steve hugged her as well.

“Goodnight, to the both of you.”

He walked out of the front door and you began cleaning up the dishes.

“Steve said the funniest thing earlier, when you were walking Bruce out.”

“Oh?” You asked, making it clear that you were listening even if you weren’t looking at her.

“He thought we were dating.”

You stopped what you were doing, turning the water off and setting the plate down.

“What did you say?”

“I just told him the truth, that we weren’t.”

“Why did he think that we were?” You asked, trying your best to seem as if your heart wasn’t pounding.

“Something about the way we look at each other,” She said as if she hadn’t committed the words to memory.

“Natasha-”

“I mean, it’d probably be a bad idea, with us working together and all.”

“Natasha.”

“And neither of us are really used to it either and-”

You turned around, taking a couple of steps so that you were only a couple of inches away from her.

Your hand hovered above her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?”

Her breath hitched.

“Yes.”

And you kissed her.

You kissed her that night and you kissed her the morning after, as her girlfriend, and you kissed her while she made breakfast and you kissed her again and again and again.

You kissed her on your six-month anniversary and you held her when she woke up from the nightmares she’d tell you about and the ones that she would never speak of.

And you keep on kissing her, until six months becomes a year and a year becomes two, until you can’t imagine a world that exists without her love.

“I’m still mad at you for getting out of bed so early,” You grumbled, looking over the breakfast that she had prepared for the two of you.

She nearly jumped when she heard your voice before she smiled warmly and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Morning. How did you sleep?” She asked, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Good. Would’ve been better if I could’ve slept a few more hours.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, though she seemed uncharacteristically anxious.

“We can go back to bed after, okay? Breakfast first.”

“This looks wonderful,” You said, wiping your bleary eyes and looking over the table more carefully before looking back at her. You poured coffee for the two of you. “You seem like you’re on edge.”

“I’m not,” She said, though you weren’t fully convinced. “Let’s eat.”

You sat down across from her, starting to eat when you became keenly aware of the fact that she was carefully watching you as you ate.

You set your utensils down and she nearly jumped out of her seat.

“Nat, what is going on?”

She blinked.

“Nothing, I-”

“You are a surprisingly bad liar, for a spy. Nat, just tell me what is-”

“Can you just… try the pancakes? Please?”

You stared at her for a couple of seconds but when her face remained unchanged, you sighed and cut a piece of the pancake and put it in your mouth.

You started chewing and you bit something hard.

“Did you leave eggshells in this or… oh.” You spit the bit on the napkin and upon closer examination, you could see what you were biting.

A ring.

You stared at it for a couple of seconds before looking back at where she was sitting to see that she was no longer sitting at all, but kneeling on the ground in front of you, a huge smile on her face and tears welling up in her eyes.

You laughed, covering your mouth.

“I’ve always known that you’re a hero. You’ve always shown such great care for everyone around you, whether they be your team members or civilians. You’ve saved so many people and I didn’t realize this when you first came over here and made breakfast for the first time, but you were saving me as well. From my grief, from loneliness. From myself, at times. You saved me and then you kept on saving me and kept on tearing down these walls that I had put up. I am not perfect and I will never promise you anything of the sort, but I am promising you that I will love you with everything that I am. I am promising that I will try to love you in the same way that you have loved me. I’ve never believed in marriage- I’ve never believed in a lot, if we’re being honest. But I believe in you. And I want to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

You didn’t say anything, tears in your own eyes before you burst out half-laughing and half-crying.

“Natasha, look in your coffee cup.”

She looked slightly confused but she did as you said, moving the coffee cup slightly so that she could see the bottom.

Her free hand rushed up to her mouth before she started laugh-crying as well and you got up and the two of you hugged tightly.

“I think that was the worst pancake I’ve ever had,” You mumbled into the crook of her shoulder, still laughing.

She began to laugh even harder, the two of you rocking in the kitchen.

After the two of you broke apart, she fished the ring that you had placed in her coffee out, admiring it.

“You never said yes, you know,” She pointed out and you looked at her, cleaning the ring she had given to you.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you today or tomorrow or in a million years.”

“My answer is yes too. Though preferably not in a million years.”

A million years may have been a more reasonable time than you had thought- the two of you originally set a wedding date in the winter, though it was interrupted by a string of killings committed by Clint.

Turns out, he is good for more than making Natasha upset by not coming to your wedding, he’s also good for upheaving your wedding day in its entirety.

You reschedule the date a couple of months later, only for a couple of Widows to call for Natasha’s help in saving one of their own. She can’t refuse and you would never ask her to.

“I don’t know if it’ll ever be the right time,” Natasha said softly, laying next to you in bed, a couple of nights after returning from the mission.

You turned over so that you were facing her.

“For the wedding?”

She nodded.

“I don’t think it’ll feel right if everyone isn’t there with us. I know that you’ve been really busy planning for it, but-"

“Nat, I don’t care about a wedding. I don’t need some ceremony to tell you how much I love you. If you want to stay like this, if you don’t want a ceremony or anything, then okay. All I need is you.”

“How did I get so lucky?”

“You’re really good at cooking breakfast,” You mumbled back and she laughed.

“I love you.”

“I know,” You said sleepily, barely able to keep your eyes open. “I love you too.”

The bubble of peace that you had managed to create for all these years remains for another, until Scott Lang shows up at the front door to the Avengers Compound.

From there, the bubble completely popped, not that either of you minded much.

This was what you both wanted, right? Everything back to what it was before.

Now, with Tony’s plan, everyone seemed to be running around the Avenger’s Compound again, everyone anxious to do something useful after all of these years.

“I still don’t like that he’s here,” You said begrudgingly and Natasha sighed. “He isn’t the Clint either of us knew.”

“I had to go after him. He deserves a chance at forgiveness,” She argued quietly, careful not to be overheard. “You’ve forgiven me for everything I’ve done. Why can’t you forgive him?”

“Because everything you’ve done since you left the Red Room has been in service of clearing out your ledger. He was killing people a couple of days ago.”

She didn’t say anything at that, thinking.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not asking to invite him to our wedding, I’m just asking you to trust him.”

You looked at her, unable to stop the smile that started on your face.

“We can finally get married- we can have our families at our wedding,” You said softly and she nodded, a small smile appearing on her lips as well.

“God, I can’t wait to introduce you to my family. I can’t wait to meet yours. I think you and Yelena are going to get along a lot.”

“Okay,” You said after a while. “I trust him.”

The two of you started walking towards the main open floor, where the machine that Tony had dreamt up had been constructed.

The others were already waiting there in their suits, waiting for your conversation to finish up.

“Okay. It’s Vormir, right? Where you and Clint are going?” Natasha nodded, her forehead leaning against yours. “Okay, well, you’re going to have to tell me all about it when you get back. I wish I was going in space.”

She smiled, kissing you on the forehead before proceeding to pepper your entire face with kisses before landing on your lips.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to kiss her enough.

“Yeah, you only get to time travel,” She smiled. “I’ll tell you all about it, I promise. I love you.”

“I love you too. Come back home, okay? I’ll have breakfast waiting.”

“Okay,” She said softly, stepping back. “I’ll make the coffee.”

“You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Just be there, Nat.”

“I will,” She said, beaming. “I promise I will.”

In the last moments you’re with her, she looks the happiest that you’ve ever seen her.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you #black widow x reader #the black widow #natasha romanoff #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #mcu imagine #marvel x you #mcu x reader #mcu x you #steve rogers #bruce banner

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quillsanddaydreams · 3 years

Text

i don't like you

james potter x reader

—author's note: This was a story from my main that I adored so I thought why not rewrite it? The plot is the same, my ability to tell a story however, has changed. James and you do not like each other. Not even a bit. I hope you enjoy ;) Please do leave a comment, it makes my day.

—warning(s): couple of harmless pranks, slytherin! gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren't used).

—word count: 3,431

Groaning, you got up and squinted to make out the details of your dorm. Shouts and rushing made your head thump. You slowly realized a god-awful smell was filling up your room, quicker than you could think. Squeezing your nose shut, you rushed out. Other Slytherins were alongside you, you could hear coughing all around. Your eyes pricked with tears, your throat felt raw. Seeing a very familiar messy dark-haired boy run away jeering; you sensed rage gripping your form like a vice.

Third time. It was the third time the same week that Potter and the elder Black brother had pranked you all. Except it wasn’t funny anymore. That was what pranks were supposed to be right? Something that made everyone laugh along? Looking towards Elodie who was clenching her eyes shut at the sensation, you made a plan in your mind. You knew it was crazy. But when did that ever stop you? James had never conversed with you. Nor you, him. Yet it was clear that he did not like Slytherins. Not one bit.

-♡♡♡-

James yawned, stretching his limbs for a new day. Scrunching his nose, he felt a flowery scent attack him. Maybe it was just Sirius with one of his experiments. Shrugging, he got up and into the shower. That day he had transfiguration, charms, and astronomy. Thankfully nothing with the snakes, they might still be sour about the prank they pulled yesterday. Getting out of the washroom, he hummed to himself as he passed Peter who was still fast asleep. Remus was asleep and Sirius was furiously scribbling on his homework. Always finishing at the last moment.

He didn’t realize the uniform he was putting on until he looked at himself in the mirror. And boy oh boy did he panic. Eyes widening almost comically, he rummaged through his wardrobe, everything a dark green color with silver accents. A note fell at his feet.

“Dearest Marauders,

Take this beautiful gift of green robes from me. I know not all of you deserved this, but then again, I didn't feel like any of you should be left behind. I know how much you love us, Slytherins. Why not showcase it?

With love,

(Y/n) (Y/l/n)”

“Sirius! Remus!” he called out. “Wormtail!”

Sirius didn’t even look up from his parchment, Remus let out a grunt in response. The only answer he got was a faint ‘what’ from the shared bathroom.

“Mates listen to this,” James said firmly, reading the letter out loud. That got their attention. “Our robes are all green. Vivid Slytherin green!”

Remus got up suddenly, with wide eyes rushing to check his almirah. He groaned loudly on finding them in the same predicament James foretold grass-like and smelling heavily of flowers. Sirius however, started crackling.

“What?” James bellowed, his nostrils flaring.

“Well, the sarcasm in that letter is…” He snorted, stopping himself seeing James’s frown. James shook his head as Remus glared at them both.

“This has a strong one-week dye,” he said, punctuating each word, infuriated. “There’s no way it can be removed before the expected time. Why should I suffer for all the things you two do?”

“And I am not suffering?” James quipped back as Remus just shook his head, huffing, and went back to his bed. James looked at Sirius who didn’t look worried at all.

“What? Aren’t you bothered at all?” James asked.

“I look great in everything,” he replied shrugging, making James want to punch him.

He dressed up quickly after, dashing out of the dorm towards the great hall. Ignoring the looks of the students from around and the snickers he looked for you amidst the Slytherin table. It was infuriating, how casually you ate your breakfast, almost oblivious. Stalking towards your place, he cleared his throat grabbing your attention. Your eyes sparkled amusedly, taking in his appearance.

“Why the hell did you do this?” he demanded.

“Now, that’s not a way to talk about the gift I gave you,” you said, batting your eyelashes as he scowled at you. You muttered a spell under your breath, waving your wand slightly before continuing. “I worked hard, you know?”

“You Slytherins are the best thing to walk on this planet!” he shouted before he could stop himself. His eyes grew large. Everyone’s attention now seemed to be on your table.

“Thank you, I know,” you smirked, challenging him. He narrowed his eyes on you.

“You put a speaking charm on me didn’t you?” he hissed as you put on an innocently sweet expression.

“Well, I thought you needed some help with words,” you prompted, getting better reactions than you hoped for. James growled, jumping up and down in annoyance. You tried not to laugh. Did. But the corners of your mouth turned up anyways. He looked like an idiot. The giggle you let out grabbed his attention, his cheeks turning a rosy red.

“I don’t like you,” he said in a rather squeaky voice.

“I don’t like you,” you retaliated. James hated himself for thinking the laugh you let out looking adorable. Anger, which was more of a frustration gawned on his skin. He knew exactly what he was going to do next. Giving you a sickly sweet smile, he enjoyed the slight shiver that went through your arm. Let the prank war begin.

-♡♡♡-

You rushed out of the bathroom, vexed. It had been a long exhausting day and this was the last thing you needed. Your skin was tinted green. Bright neon green. Elodie stared at you in stupor.

“What happened?” she asked and you couldn’t help the raucous whine that escaped your lips.

“I don’t know, okay? I was in the shower and after using soap, my skin turned freaking green,” you hissed as Elodie tried to calm you. You handed her a small piece of paper. “Oh and look what I found beside the shampoo bottle.”

Dear (Y/n),

A gift from me, to showcase your pride in your house. You could thank me later.

James.

P.S. This gift in no way means I’ve started liking you. I don’t.

“James. James did this; that bastard!” you said, nostrils flaring as Elodie rubbed your back.

“Well, it’s just hands and legs…”

“I'm gonna get back at him. Just watch me.”

Your jaw clenched. You knew just what you were gonna do. James started a fight with the wrong person. And you didn’t like him. At all.

-♡♡♡-

You were reading your book when you saw James pacing towards you, from the corner of your eye. Trying to keep a straight face, you fixed your gaze on the book in your hand. Yet you couldn’t help the twitch your mouth gave as he stood right in front of you, folding his arms.

“Wow,” he breathed through clenched teeth. You looked up.

“Real mature of you,” he said in a baby’s voice. It sounded like he pronounced everything through his nose. You made an effort not to start crackling right then.

“Well, one of us had to be, right?”

“Yeah. And giving me the baby voice makes you the adult.”

“I’d think so, yes.” You said brushing his hair. They were surprisingly soft. James glared at you.

“I don’t like you.” He squeaked as you raised an eyebrow.

“I thought we already established that. I don’t like you either boy,” You said, letting out a laugh.

-♡♡♡-

Adjusting your cap, you pulled your books closer to you. It was like everyone was staring at you. Specifically how stupid you looked. A whistle caught your attention. James, it had to be. When you turned towards the sound, you were sadly proved right.

“I like your cap,” he commented, clicking his tongue.

“Geez. Thank you. Just bought it,” you said, threateningly. Take one step James, I dare you; you thought. He didn’t get the message.

“I wonder how it would look on me,” he said, taking a step towards you. You hissed.

“Sorry, not gonna let you borrow it,” you tried to say in a normal tone, but it came out quite high pitched. James dared to grin.

“What if I just…” he said, coming closer as you took a step back, glowering at him in a warning. Not that he took it. He snatched the cap from your head as the long white hair fell. They reached your feet.

“James, give it back,” you warned and he put it on his head.

“Nope,” he said, his eyes full of mischief. You hesitated at his expression, he looked as candid as a child. Maybe you never noticed it, his hair fell round in pretty curls, framing his face. James winked, making you break out of your reverie.

“I think,” he said thoughtfully. “I think I’m going to keep this cap with me, I quite like it. If you want it back, you’re gonna have to take it from me.”

James took a step back as your eyes dilated. He turned around and started sprinting in that direction.

“James!” you shouted, chasing him.

People around you bolted aside, gasping at the scene. A ghostly white-haired student chasing after James as he chortled. It had been going for quite some time and everyone wondered who would win. Few in the favour of James, who had been pranking ever since he set foot in Hogwarts; a few for you since you were a Slytherin and Slytherins never lose. Others just shook their heads, wishing they would get it over with already the cat and mouse game was becoming rather tiring. No one however had the courage to raise their opinions out loud, lest they got involved in the prank war.

-♡♡♡-

“James," you said calmly, though the atmosphere made you anything but. Thick hot fumes rose from all around you making beads of sweat form on your forehead. "James, this doesn’t go in. We have to stir it first.”

“Why don’t you do it then? Little miss know-it-all” he snided. You looked at him fiercely. Slughorn had paired the two of you together for the next project and it couldn’t be more of a disaster. Only if he could just listen.

“I would if you let me,” you pointed out, finally taking over the shared pot. James watched you take a few breaths before starting to work on the potion. Muttering for ingredients from him now and then, you stirred the concoction. Soon, it started to show the exact signs given in their books.

James couldn't help but stare at you as you worked, humming to yourself all the while. You seemed cute like that, bending over the book, occasionally muttering to yourself. His face heated up when you caught his gaze. Luckily he could blame it on the heat.

“Could you cut some beetroots for me?” you asked, ignoring the way he flushed. James nodded, chopping them to the required amount. The two of you finished up fairly swiftly after that.

"So," you started after Slughorn left. He had commented on your work and applauded you both. Happiness was evident from the smiles on your faces. "Library at 4?"

James grinned, giving you a thumbs up. He packed up his stuff before turning to leave. You couldn't help but stare at his retreating figure, thinking, maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Shrugging, you shook away the thought and went your own way. There were things you had to get done that day.

-♡♡♡-

As time passed, the thought started becoming more predominant. He wasn't so bad, your mind reminded you time and time again. The more you started to know James, the more you believed in it. Constant teasing and bickering wasn’t something that became unheard of between the two of you. But it was more lighthearted now… almost as if you were friends crackling over a shared joke. James had somehow caught your eye again, in a completely different way.

It seemed you were noticing new things about him, like how he didn’t look at you with hatred. Come to think of it, was it even ever ‘hate’? Yet there was something soft about the way he gazed at you now, gentle even— you couldn’t put your finger on it. You had come to enjoy his goofy personality, the smile he gave when his eyes were light with mischief. Knowing where these musings led, you had tried your best to beat them down. What was it that you did not try? Remembering every single detail that made you despise him once, all those times your blood boiled at the prank he pulled but nothing— nothing ever worked and your heart still fluttered every time he complimented you.

Was it that bad an idea though? Liking James?

You shivered, pulling your sweater closer to you. Walking had failed to heat your body the way it always did and you reckoned that your deliberation also had something to do with that. It wasn’t about you liking him, your mind prompted, it was about whether he could feel the same way. And if you knew something, you knew that you couldn’t take the answer to be no. The skip in your step halted, and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips.

Path to the library couldn’t have been more daunting. That was until you saw James and Lily around the corner. Talking, laughing, and standing too close to be called friends. Evans, the one girl James was head over heels for, the one girl you never paid attention to much.

It was like the final shoe dropping. James and you didn’t like each other. People knew that you did as well. It was time you believed it too. Your stomach twisted up at the sight, your mood souring. You turned, walking away.

“Oi!” James called out to you, apologizing to the students he bumped into. You brisked forward, hoping to make it to your dorm. It didn’t work, James ran to catch up with you. Damn his long legs.

“Stop fucking running,” he huffed on reaching you. “Where are you going? We have a study session. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

You gritted your teeth.

“I was heading to the library but you and Evans seemed quite busy, so I thought against it,” you said, albeit aggressively. Jealousy was never a good color.

“We were just talking for a moment,” James explained. “I want us to complete the project first though.”

He looked at you, confused. It was hard controlling your anger right then. You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped your lips.

“Of course,” you said in a temper. “The faster we finish up the project, the faster you can get rid of me, right? Because you don’t like me.”

James’ smile dropped. Sadness gave way to rage. Of course, you still thought that even after all the time he spent with you.

“Yeah. I don’t like you,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “So let’s complete the project, shall we? To get rid of each other?”

You looked away. It was the last thing you wanted to hear. You yearned for him to tell you otherwise, to apologize for his words, and to reassure you that it wasn’t so. That you two were something. Friends, companions, anything but this. Yet the bigger part of you told you that he was right. And you were nothing to him.

“Yeah, sure.”

-♡♡♡-

The following study session was tense. You two never worked quietly. Jokes, laughs, and incessant chatter filled the air when you were together. James had regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He watched your expression fall and a wall build up around you. Your eyes hadn’t met his since. It ate him up. Somehow he didn’t know how to break the bubble he created.

He hated seeing you close off to him.

You heaved a sigh checking the last lines you’d written and then looked at the clock. It had been two hours.

“I think we should stop. There are just two pages left, we can do them tomorrow and you’ll be free,” you said, packing up your things. James opened and closed his mouth as you picked up your bag.

“Hey, wait!” he said as you turned towards him.

“I didn’t mean to, “ James started, but you cut him off.

“James, it’s alright,” you said, taking a deep breath blinking away the tears that emerged. “I understand. You don’t like me, I don’t like you and we’re stuck together for some time. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

James sucked in a breath. That wasn’t right. At all.

“But—“

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” a voice came and you shifted to see Elodie. You looked over at James, whose eyes pleaded you to stop. But you couldn’t.

You left the library, walking towards your friend leaving behind the boy who stood transfixed at his spot. Why did he feel like he was losing everything? He grudgingly moved his feet towards the common room, your thoughts plaguing his mind. James heard a shout behind him, twisting to see Lily jog up to him.

“James, I was wondering,” she began biting her lip. “Maybe we could sneak out for some butterbeers today? It’s freezing and the snow looks heavenly.”

James found himself shaking his head. His mood was far too spoiled for anything.

“Not today, Lily,” he answered. “I’m tired.”

“Oh, I meant it as a date, you know?” Lily added hopefully. James considered her for a moment. It was everything he had wished for years. Yet he couldn’t feel the happiness that should have come with it. He wanted, no— he needed someone else, someone who made him far giddier. He needed you.

It was like a bolt striking him. He had never been so sure of anything else. Unable to keep the grin off his face, he spoke his next words in a rush.

“Lily, I’m sorry but I can’t,” he shouted, sprinting towards the dungeons. Running through the rather empty corridors he saw the snow which coated the grounds. His breath came out in puffs as he urged himself to move faster. He stopped when something caught his eye. You. Standing out in the snow, looking at the sky with a smile.

Moving towards you, he conjured up a snowball and threw it on your back. Your eyes widened in shock as you jumped, looking towards him.

“What now James?” you snapped.

He conjured up yet another ball and threw it at you. Your eyes grew larger and you glared at him.

“I wanted to say something,” he said as you conjured up a ball and threw it at him in response. He hissed at the icy sensation.

“Then say it.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” he said, throwing a snowball at you as your teeth clattered at the sensation. You threw a snowball in return, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Then stop acting as you do.”

He threw yet another ball at you.

“You make me act like that,” he stated. You threw a huge one in response.

“I make you act like an idiot?”

“Yes, you drive me crazy,” he said, throwing some snow at you as you grunted.

“Then why don’t you leave me alone?” you huffed as he threw yet another ball at you, making you cough and splutter.

“Because I can’t.”

“Why?” you asked, throwing a ball at him.

“Because I can’t leave the best thing that happened to me,” he said, making you stop. You stalked towards him and poked his chest with every word you spoke.

“I'm the best thing that happened to you? What is this? Some kind of sick prank? You don’t even like me,” you sobbed, frustrated and angry. That was how he made you feel. Everything all at once. James didn’t know how to answer you so he just took your hand away and cupped your cheek with his other one, leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes fell shut as feeling his lips against yours. You grabbed his shirt pulling him closer feeling his arms tighten around your hips, sucking his bottom lip. When you pulled away you both caught your breath.

“I promise those are the truest words I’ve ever said,” he whispered, his hair messier than usual. He cradled your face, pressing his lips against your forehead. You crossed your arms.

“I still don’t like you,” you said in faux anger. James let out a teary chuckle.

“I don’t like you either,” he replied, smiling.

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

#james #james potter #james x reader #james potter x reader #james x y/n #james potter x y/n #the marauders #marauders #james x you #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter angst #lily evans #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #from anu's quill

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viouez · 3 years

Text

First Snow | 1

synopsis. introductions are never fun, especially when between the eight of them, one of them is ignorant about the things behind the curtain.

pairing. bts x reader genre. angst au. hybrid!au contents. its only about 6651 words note. i again, like most of these, wrote this a bit ago, rewrote it, fixed small parts, you know? jjk main character type ego

entire masterlist.

all rights reserved © viouez | the reposting, modifying, and/or translating of any kind on any medium is allowed. the reposting, modifying, and translating of my work without explicit permission from me is technically a criminal act under the law but will not be dealt with legal action because i would enjoy my ideas to be distributed.

A slight sigh fell from the female's lips, head tilting to the side as she listened to her coworkers job explanation. She had already been given the rundown by the boss when she was given the job. Though, she wasn’t going to stop him from talking about his passion, a second listen never hurt anybody.

She smiled widely when she caught her friend turning the corner, clipboard in hand to show her to the work area. He raised a hand in a wave and sent the other worker off, saying something about the boss needing him down in the labs. She wouldn’t question it. He turned towards her once again and gave a warm smile.

“So, the boss has given you room twenty-nine, I think you’ll want a room explanation before you meet any of the hybrids occupying such a room.” Chanyeol admitted awkwardly, pointing back towards the rooms.

“That’s the newcomers room, Chan, I don’t think I’m educated enough to deal with them yet. I haven’t even finished my schooling.” she almost gasped out, hands gripping onto the boys arm

He only gave her a sympathetic smile, patting the top of head. It was very uncommon for the boss to put someone just hired into the newcomers room. They were some of the most hostile or violent hybrids that were into the facility. He just hoped the boss knew what he was doing by sending her in.

“Thankfully, your job with the newcomers is simple. You’ll be the one who does checks up. Meaning, you’ll be the one giving medications, ordering their food and delivering from the cafeteria, at least three times a day, since you’ll be working until about six.” He paused, reading over the paperwork one more time

“I’m just the caregiver, then?” hopeful, she stood on her tippy toes to try and read the papers as well.

“If they need absolutely anything, you’ll be the only person they can go to. Its also your job to decide if adopters would be a good fit for them. You get to give the final decision.” finishing his reading, he motioned towards the door, “Let’s get you to the hybrids, shall we?”

She nodded, excited to start her first day, before taking the clipboard from the man. Her eyes raked over the words and tried her best to take in the information as quickly as possible to seem professional. She had this, she just had to start her first day with confidence and authority. This would be easy for her.

Pushing through the door, she stepped into room twenty-nine. This is where she started her first day. She needed to make a good first impression.

Without realizing, she stood froze in the door way as her eyes danced around the room. Seven males sat in a circle in the middle of the plain white room. Most of their heads were hanging down and their hands were placed, folded in their laps. This looked more like an AA meeting than a comfortable meeting space for them.

She parted her lips to question the hybrids on what was happening before a male pushed through a side door holding a tray of medications. Having not noticed the female, the worker stopped in front of a hybrid who curled in on himself. The almost threatening glare of the worker scared the girl as he forced the hybrids lips apart, dumping the array of medications into his mouth.

“Hey.. hey, what are you doing?” her voice came out, a stuttering mess, goodbye to that good first impression, “Stop that, what do you think you’re doing? Don’t grab them like that.”

This gained the workers attention, hand ripping itself away from the hybrid at the new appearance, “I’m just giving them their medications, what do you think I’m doing? Are you an adopter or something?”

“I’m the new worker for this station. You can go, I’ll finish up here, thank you.”

The worker only rolled his eyes and moved to place their medications back onto the tray before leaving through the door they came in from. She was truly shocked at how harshly the worker was treating the hybrids. That was completely unneeded. She was sure the hybrids would take their meds without violence.

She sighed in relief that the worker was gone before once again sinking into her thoughts. She had just done that little show in front of seven hybrids, the ones she was supposed to be caring for. Her stuttering and lack of confidence probably did not give the best look.

Trying her best to build up just a tad bit more confidence, she stepped into the circle of hybrids and hurried to the medications tray. She could do this, she knew she could, but now she was anxious that she gave a bad first impression.

“You got this, don’t even worry about it. So what you got scared? Anyone would be after seeing that.. Right?” she whispered to herself as she glanced over the paperwork one more time, “Don’t chicken out now.”

From what she could tell, the medications they were being given weren’t really hybrid medications. Seemed more like meds you would be giving your actual cat or dog, not a hybrid. What hybrid needs flea medications? Could hybrids even get fleas?

A lot of the ones she was seeing did differ depending on the hybrid taking them. A wolf hybrid within the group would be taking medications to calm down the alpha effects within their body, seeing as they are being shoved into a group of unknown hybrids. A few were being given anti-anxiety medications. One was being given heat suppressors, which was confusing, wouldn’t they all be receiving them if in a center?

Finally turning towards the hybrids, she swallowed harshly and tried to put a hybrid on the faces. She could tell who the wolf was in the pack, the intimidating aura gave that away very quickly. Some of them were harder to tell from the others, granted, she could just look at the list, but she wouldn’t be able to have them introduce themselves. First impressions.

Stepping towards the one who she saw being manhandled, she glanced over the hybrids features, sighing when the red marks from the worker came into view. She bent down a bit to give them the look over, finger trailing over the red marks the workers hand had made. She grimaced at the light whine the figure made at her touching, hand pulling back without a second thought.

“Would you like a drink? I’m sure you’re not feeling too well with what had happened. Taking pills with no drink sounds quite painful.” Y/N smiled lightly, waiting for a reply, hoping that the hybrid wouldn’t be too scared of her.

Once the hybrid nodded, she returned the gesture and quickly walked over to the door the worker stepped into. When she glanced into the room, she furrowed her eyebrows. With a slight groan, she stepped back into the room and pursed her lips. She did have drinks for herself.

It wouldn’t be too bad if she skipped out on them today. She’ll make sure to order some for them tomorrow morning. She wonders if they’d be able to give her suggestions for what kind of drinks they would like. Hopefully after this introduction, they’d trust her a little bit more.

“Seeing as I don’t plan on asking the person from before, I’ll be right back, I need to grab everyone something to drink, okay? Don’t go too far.” She tried to joke around before she exited the room.

It only took about ten minutes before the female was stepping back into the room, with Chanyeol. All the hybrids bodies stiffened at the sight of the man. She was smiling at him before showing him where to sit down the items she had brought.

“Thank you so much, Chan, I promise I’ll ask about getting drinks from the cafeteria next time but the worker that was here seemed a bit too hostile towards everyone.” She mumbled, though the hybrids could hear everything she was saying.

“I’ll have to talk to them about that. I can’t believe they would handle the hybrids like that. Disgusting behavior. But, next time you need anything, write it down and send it over in a text until we can get you a work phone, okay?” Chanyeol added on as they walked back towards the door.

She nodded quickly and moved to push him out of the room, “Go, go! You’ll be late.”

Happy with everything, she walked back into the hybrid circle. Thankfully, Chanyeol was there to help her with the drinks. She had gone grocery shopping and decided that because it was chilly out, her drinks would be alright in the boot of her car. She was correct and glad she left them.

She quickly grabbed one of the milks and stepped back towards the skittish hybrid from before. The second she held the drink out, the hybrid hesitantly took the drink.

“I apologize for taking so long, I had to go out to my car and then Chanyeol stopped me. I hope your throat feels much better. Oh! I also grabbed some cream from my car for your face.” she muttered out, hands shoving into her pocket.

Pulling out the cream, she put a small dot on her finger before glancing up at the hybrid. Once again, hesitant, the hybrid gave a slight nod and turned his head to the side. Gently, the girl applied the cream to the marks left on his face.

“I read on your paperwork that you’re a Samoyed? I mean, your ears kind of give it away too.” She smiled as she pulled her hand back, “I used to have a close friend who was a Samoyed, she always had such bright white ears. It didn’t help that she kept dyeing her hair black and left her ears out.”

This caught the hybrids attention, “You’ve met a Samoyed before? I’ve never seen another one-”

“My older brother used to have a close friend who was Samoyed. She was always so active, I could never keep up with her. Always had such amazing stamina, my little chubby legs could never.”

She could only smile at the memories, she missed the hybrid. Her brother wasn’t too happy when it came to the topic, but he would talk about it if needed. She was taken away by a center because she wasn’t actually adopted. She was a stray he had found and decided to keep. When they found out, they took her away.

“Her name was Mina. She was a lovely person!” happy to be speaking about her, she watched the hybrid sip on his milk, “What’s your name?”

“Oh.. I’m Jimin. They didn’t tell you beforehand?” The hybrid asked, quietly, almost unsure of himself.

“It’s on the paperwork, but I would like to meet you guys how anyone would normally meet someone new, you know? I don’t care what they write on paper.”

The hybrid nodded at her words, going back to his drink. She took this as a sign to move along and meet the other hybrids, not sure how long it had been since she started talking to Jimin. He was a very quiet dog hybrid, she wondered if the other canines were the same.

She turned to grab another milk, glancing over the paperwork to know which pills were for the next hybrid. She knew he was a wolf hybrid, but they did not have the pills ordered correctly. If she knew they were this disorganized, she would’ve grabbed their medication herself.

“It’s the one with the large red pill.” a voice pulled her from her concentration.

Trusting the hybrid, she grabbed the cap of pills and stepped towards the wolf hybrid. She was not the best when it came to meeting new people, she had a good reason to speak with Jimin normally. He needed cream for his marks, but, the wolf hybrid was intimidating.

“Thank you for helping me. The worker seems to really not like his job. He’s made it very confusing for everyone but himself.” she spoke softly, knowing wolf hybrids spoke more confidently when the others were more submissive sounding.

Granted, it may have been a stereotype that she learned from schooling. She wasn’t too sure but she wasn’t going to test that logic either. Wolves seemed to be the most difficult hybrids to deal with when it came to tempers and aggression.

The wolf showed no aggression towards her, she felt like she was safe.

“The names Namjoon,” the wolf started, taking the items from her, “Yeah, he’s not the best worker here, you saw how he treated Jimin.”

“I’m still really sorry about that. I was in shock or I would’ve spoken up sooner. I did not think that the workers were so.. harsh.” she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Don’t worry about it, a lot of us are used to it. Jimin just seems to be his main target most of the time. None of us understand why. Maybe because he’s the smallest, but eh, not much we can do about it.”

“I promise to try my best and not let that happen again. I’m your new caregiver anyways, he should stay gone. Or I’ll speak to Chanyeol again. He’s my friend, so, he should do something, right?”

She was speaking more to herself at this point, the wolf could tell. Though, he was confused about how she assumed Chanyeol was any better than the worker from before. He’s beaten the hybrids in the room. He’s done a lot worse and yet, she had no idea.

“It’s nice to meet you, Namjoon. I’m happy to be your new caregiver. I promise to do my best.” she spoke out a minute later, smiling at the wolf.

The hybrids in the room weren’t in a pack together, but he still appreciated her assuming they were. That means he would be making most of the decisions for the group. He had been here the longest and he knew the most, so this would help the group as a whole.

Watching her step away to grab the next set of medications, the wolf glanced around the room. He caught eyes with Seokjin, only giving a slight nod his way. The hybrid dropped his shoulders in relief. The eldest was the most worried about the group, sensing that she was a very new employee. Ignorance is bliss.

She hesitated when she had to step towards the next hybrid, him already giving her a nasty look. Swallowing her nerves, she gave a small smile and held the milk out for him.

“I.. I’m assuming you’re Suga? I think you’re the only feline in the room..” she whispered, the confidence draining from her body.

The hybrid took the milk and meds, downing them within seconds. He shrugged his shoulders at her words. He wasn’t too sure why she was so terrified of him. He knew he had a resting bitch face, but he couldn’t do anything to her while she was here.

“It’s Yoongi.” he spoke, licking over his lips, “Do you have anymore milk?”

She quickly nodded, moving to the box to grab another bottle for the cat. Once he got the bottle, he smiled at her to try and ease her nerves. The room was suffocating in them, he could barely breathe. She wasn’t entirely confused about the cat, but, she knew this was going to be quite the relationship between client and worker until they were separated into their own sections for hybrids.

“Yoongi? It’s pretty, means shine, a lovely name” She commented as she stepped over to the next hybrid.

Taking a break from the hybrids, she slowly walked back towards the medicine tray. She had already met three hybrids who all had very different personalities. Jimin was shy and quiet, not too sure what to say whenever he said anything. It’s almost like he triple checked in his mind before he spoke to her.

Namjoon knew what he was saying and was confident in himself, she was surprised that he was even sent to a center, honestly. Wolf hybrids weren’t entirely rare to see in the hybrid world, but seeing them in a center was a rare sight. They would rather send them in the wild than in a center full of hybrids. Sometimes its too much for them to concentrate or create bonds.

Though very much intimidated by the feline, Yoongi seemed to be a interesting one. Why did they give him a nickname like Suga? Was he returned from an adopter? He didn’t seem to keen on talking with her. Though, that could be a trauma response as well. Most hybrids go through trauma within just ten years of life.

“Are you alright?” a voice questioned beside her, scaring her

She pushed away from the new voice, hand slamming over her heart in quick movement. She didn’t mean to freak out over one of the hybrids speaking to her, she was just lost in thought.

“I am so sorry, I did not mean to freak out like that. I was just in thought. I have a bad memory, so remembering names is a bit hard.” she quickly moved to apologize, bowing slightly towards the hybrid.

“You were just staring at the table, I assumed you needed a bit of help.” Namjoon sheepishly acknowledged, “It’s okay if you don’t!”

“No, no, please, they’re not labeled and I don’t want to mix any medications up. I appreciate the help, I do. Again, I’m really sorry for getting scared, I should’ve been paying attention.”

Shaking his head, the wolf smiled and quickly went to put the medicines in order for the last four hybrids. He quietly named off the hybrids breeds in order for her not to mix them up. She mentally begged that he did not believe she couldn’t do her job. She was just nervous and trying to remember names.

“Thank you again, Namjoon, I get overwhelmed when things aren’t in order, I wish I had gotten the meds myself.” she admitted, muttering out a little curse towards the other worker.

Once again shaking his head, he moved back towards his seat. She appreciated the help, seeing as she almost gave the wrong hybrid the heat suppressant. She was glad she wouldn’t be messing up their medications. God knows how upset Chanyeol would be with her.

“Hi, uh, I want to assume you’re the fox hybrid?” quietly, she walked over to the male with the more pointed ears.

“Ah, yes, that’s me. My name is Seokjin, by the way, it’s lovely to meet you.” He was happy to take the items from her grasp, thankful for his meds.

“Its lovely to meet you as well, Seokjin, I hope we have a nice time working together.”

She couldn’t help the smile from appearing on her face, heart calming down. She was so worried to meet these hybrids and yet they’ve all been kind to her. Hell, Yoongi could’ve reacted a lot worse than he did, but he did introduce himself willingly.

“I.. I like your hair color.” she whispered, nervous now that she complimented without thinking.

“Thank you. I had just gotten it done before I was pushed into here. I think it’s a lovely orange shade.” Seokjin laughed at the compliment, thankful at a change in atmosphere.

“Ah, compliment me next, please? Pretty please?” another voice cut in between the two of them.

Y/N glanced over and caught the second dog hybrid pouting at the two of them. Nodding at his request, she quickly grabbed his things and came back over to speak with the excited pup. She was happy that one or two of them were happy to talk with her.

“I’m Taehyung, but you can call me Tae, I don’t mind, I feel like we’ll get close anyways!” He spoke, voice deep but louder than most of the other hybrids she met already.

“If you want me to call you Tae, I don’t mind at all. It’s a beautiful nickname.” She nodded at his words, opening his milk for him as his tail slapped against another hybrids chair.

She wanted to question why he sat sideways, but she as not going to do that just yet. He seemed extremely comfortable with her already, she wouldn’t wanna ruin that.

Grabbing the drink from her, making sure to be calm enough to not drop it, he quickly brought it to his mouth, gulping down the liquid. Without thinking, she tapped his wrist gently, whining at how quickly he drank.

“Be careful, Tae, you’ll end up with a stomach ache if you keep drinking so fast.” she rushed out, almost thankful when he pulls the drink away from his mouth.

Whining back at the worker, the pup listened and pulled the bottle from his lips, licking the milk that was strapped above his lip. She held the pill bottle towards him, tilting her head to see if he would be another willing hybrid, only to have the pill bottle pushed back towards her.

“You don’t want to take your pills? Why not? They’re supposed to make you feel really good and make sure your body is healthy.” She frowned, holding the pills up again.

“You take the pills for me then if that’s what they’re supposed to do. Pills are no no’s, you can’t take them, they’ll hurt you.” He sarcastically commented after her

“Hm, okay, how about we make a deal then? If you can take all your pills, i’ll give you another drink, how does that sound?”

He took a minute to think about the deal. It was obvious she was trying to bribe him into taking the meds, but this is the most fun he’s had in a while with any worker here. Pursing his lips just slightly, he looked over the girls face and hummed.

Seeing how hopeful she looked, he sighed in defeat and nodded at her words. Taking the cup of pills, he dumped them in his mouth and quickly drank the rest of his milk. Clapping her hands happily, she quickly moved back to grab him another milk, opting to grab a strawberry milk as a treat.

Taking the drink, he was happy to take little sips this time, wanting to savor the drink.

“So, I have a quick question to ask you, Tae, you know.. do dogs like to sniff hands like cats do? I know the full animal sniff the rears of their playmates but what do hybrids do?” She questioned with genuine confusion, looking away from the pup

“I do not.. and hybrids sniff as well, we just don’t sniff their asses like the full animals do. Also, Yoongi doesn’t do the whole sniffing thing either, he’s too mean, plus he has a sensitive nose, it always shows when Jimin and I are around him, but he never has an issue with Namjoon!” the pup almost vented to the worker.

She didn’t mind letting the canine to vent to her, she kind of found it cute. He did not mind talking to a stranger about the problems within the hybrid group. Though, she wasn’t surprised that he and Yoongi didn’t get along. Steretypically cats and dogs have never gotten along too well. Especially when they’re much older.

“I wouldn’t think he did, he didn’t seem so pleased with my presence, but it's something I knew was going to happen. And its nice to meet you, Taehyung, it’s a nice name, something unique.” She nodded at his words, stepping back towards the middle so she could move on, but still wanted to talk to the pup

“My owner gave it to me! she’s a really nice person, you know? She always gave me meat, so much meat, but then she stopped coming home, I think that maybe she was just visiting her family and they brought me here to watch after me.” He spoke loud enough so she could hear while she stepped away.

Turning her back to the hybrid, she frowned lightly. This could only mean two things and both ways, she didn’t like the idea of him finding out one day. The owner either passed away while away from the house or she had given up ownership to the center. Both ways are heartbreaking.

It wasn’t uncommon for hybrids to be taken from their owners either, it just seemed to more reasonable for someone to give up their ownership than the hybrid just be taken away. By law, it had to be a huge reason for your hybrid to be taken from you. Most places, the law passes over abuse, most mean trafficking or invalid adoptions. It was hard to learn in school, but one day it will change, everyone was sure of it.

Without speaking another word about the issue, she found herself standing in front of another hybrid, softening when their features formed into worry, probably realizing what the boy next to him had meant by what he said. He looked up at her and frowned, mentally asking if she understood.

“Will they ever tell him what happened? He hasn’t stopped talking about her since he got here and its been weeks. He thinks he’s going back with her when she gets back..” The hybrid started, a low whine falling from their throat.

“I don’t know when the center thinks would be the best time to tell him. I just know that when he is told, he’ll need some comforting. I know hybrids can read feelings and emotions a lot better than humans can, so, do you think you’d be able to help out?” she questioned softly, not sure how else to approach the situation.

“I could do my best. I’m just not too sure how much the poor thing could take. He’s like.. In love with the girl or something. It’s always Jieun this.. Jieun that. He never stops talking about her. Even Yoongi tried to say something and he just refused to take it as truth. He almost fought with the dude.. Taehyung did. Its weird.”

Not sure what else to say to the poor hybrid, she gently handed over the milk and pills. Maybe she’ll talk to Chanyeol about the situation and see what he thinks about it all. Hopefully when she gets close enough to the hybrid, she’ll be able to talk to him about it.

Taehyung seemed to be an extremely hopeful hybrid. It’s not something rare to see, but in a center it is. He seemed to be around her age as well in human years, meaning that he was old enough to forget all about child-like hopes and dreams. She’s curious about who his last owner happened to be.

Unlike Taehyung though, Seokjin seemed to be a very calm hybrid. He didn’t seem to mind talking to her like they were old friends. He was nice to speak with, very well educated and talked as if he had been with a high-class family. She wonders why they would give up such a delightful hybrid.

Feeling the atmosphere change, the hybrid in front of her pat her arm and got her attention, only giving a small smile, holding the cup back up towards her. They both knew the pup would be told sometime while here and they both knew that it wouldn’t be a pretty picture the minute he actually realized he had been abandoned.

“We’ll try and let him know slowly, so it doesn’t hurt him too much as he realizes. It’ll be a lot for him, but I think he’ll come out fine with a bunch of friends around him, you know?” she smiles, glancing over the canine one last time.

“I hope so, he’s a lovely kid, just has a childlike way of thinking. He’s hopeful,” the hybrid shrugged, turning back towards the girl with a nod, “I’m Hoseok, by the way, It’s nice to meet you finally, I’ve been waiting so long.”

She blushed, realizing she had been taking her time with meeting most of the hybrids, having talked to the five before him for over two hours. She hadn’t even realized how long it had taken her to introduce herself to them all. This is probably why she was a good fit for the job. She can have time pass really easily.

“You’re a red panda, right? A rare sight to see.” She admitted, trying to change topics.

“I am! I’m quite rare on this side of the world, yes, I’m not originally from here.” Hoseok nods,

“They really don’t teach us about red pandas in school, you know? We learn the very basics about pandas. I don’t think I learned anything about red pandas.”

Laughing at her comment, the hybrid shook his head. Of course it was rare to see red pandas talked about in schooling, they’re mostly only learned about when it came to natural habitat. Most of the time, they were taught in places like India and China, where you could actually find them. Not here.

“I guess we’ll both be teaching each other something. If you don’t mind.. I would like to learn about hybrid things as well! We can be each others teachers.” Hoseok smiled, hopeful.

“I would love that, actually. I would love to learn about red pandas. You are someone I take care of, I’d like to know more about you and your hybrid side. I’m sure there’s so much to learn as well. I’m excited.” She bounced on the balls of her feet.

Making plans with the hybrids was nice, she felt like she was getting along with mostly everybody. Standing back at the medicine table, she realized she only had one more pill cup left.

Glancing over at the last hybrid, she swallowed. She could tell why the hybrid was sent into a center. It broke her heart, but she knew how people and hybrids were. If they didn’t fit the usual stereotype of the hybrid, they weren’t wanted or cared about.

Most bunnies had small figures, shorter in height, smaller in size, most were grey or white colored, and they had more feminine features as well. This bunny seemed to be quite the opposite. His shoulders weren’t the broadest, but he definitely looked more masculine than feminine besides maybe his facial features. He was built larger than most as well, seemed about a few inches from six foot, larger thighs and biceps, he looked more like a man than a boy.

If she were seeing them from far away, ears hidden, she would assume the Samoyed and bunny were the opposite species. The pup had a figure closer to a stereotypical bunny while the bunny had the stereotypical body of a dog, she thought the stereotype breaking of both species was adorable. She loved the idea that you would be surprised seeing their species.

“The most rare breed of rabbit..” she spoke quietly as she red over the paperwork, glancing back over to the boy.

How in the world did one of the most rare breeds of rabbit end up in a center?

“Blanc De Hotot.. You are the most rare rabbit to exist. How are you here?” her voice came out weak, now that she was standing closer to the hybrid.

No, she did not realize how harsh the comment came out or how wrong it could sound to any of the hybrids in the room. She was completely shocked that someone willingly got rid of him. He was the most rare.

“When you aren’t sought after in sex work, they don’t want you anymore.” the hybrid spit, rolling his eyes are her comment, though, he was confused on how he was a rare breed.

“I’m sorry to hear that, I’m glad you refused such terrible work, I would rather be on the streets than to be forced to sleep with people I didn’t know. It’s a harsh business to work in, especially for hybrids.” her voice was barely audible by the human ear.

He tensed at her words but kept his eyes down as he grabbed the items from her hands, allowing himself to take the medications. It wasn’t the fact that he hated the sex work, it gave him a place to stay while also relieving himself of anger or frustration. But once he couldn’t take the work, he was shoved into the streets, a bunny who had only known labs and then sex work from a young age.

“At least while you’re here, you can take care of yourself and then get an owner who will take you in with care and not with ideas of slaving you around.” She smiled happily, completely confusing the poor bunny.

He was going to be sold off to someone else? He had no idea they they took in animals just to sell them off when they felt like it. He left for a reason. He wanted to live on his own and become his own person. He didn’t want to just be sold off to someone else. He’d rather staying this room with the people he had gotten used to being around, people who would become his friends or family, people he trusted to leave him in his own room without bothering him.

Anger built inside the bunny, fingers squeezing the milk bottle until the liquid exploded on both him and the worker, resulting in a small squeal falling from her lips as the cold liquid soaked into her clothing. He pushed up from his seat before slamming the bottle against the females chest, hearing the side doors shove open.

“Jungkook.. Please don’t.” her small voice came out, hands wiping at the wet feeling on her chest.

“They plan on reselling us? They plan on taking us in and then shipping us off to some new owner?” He snapped towards the male, ears twitching at the anger radiating from him

“No, no that’s not what i meant, that’s not what i meant at all.” The female tried to calm the hybrid down as well, letting the milk drop to the floor.

His hands raised before she was shoved to the side, hands gripping onto the medicine tray as the bunny stormed his way towards a side door. She whipped around and faced the fox hybrid, eyes widened before she realized exactly why the bunny stopped being forced into sexual work, he had a temper, a bad temper.

The same worker from before found his way next to the girl, smirk filling his lips as he watched her realized she had to actually be strong around the hybrids. She only rolled her eyes, wiping her clothes with her free hand, smiling sadly at the fox, hoping his body would relax from what happened.

“You can leave. I’ll clean up here and try speaking with the hybrid.” The girl muttered, grabbing the milk bottle from the floor.

“There’s not way you’ll make it a week. Chanyeol was an idiot for thinking you were a good fit with this group. They’re a group of unwanted hybrids with bad tempers. You’ll figure it out. Ones already shown his true colors. Just wait.” the man spoke, smirk only widening as the girl stared at him.

‘I do not care who you are or who you think you are to be speaking to me like that. These are my hybrids now. I want you out of this room or I will be calling Chanyeol. Do you think he’ll take sides with his friend or some rude worker who attacked a hybrid and threw milk on his friend before trying to scare her off?”

She knew what she said was manipulative or against her own morals but she refused to let some man sit here and tell her she wasn’t strong enough for this job. She would not back down. This is the job she wanted and the job she fought years of school for.

“Get out of my room.” her voice cracked as she spoke, but the fear now crawling up her legs was something she or the hybrids couldn’t ignore.

The male instantly went for the door after her threats, leaving the girl to bend over to try and calm her anxiety down. How the hell she had the balls to say that, she will never know. It scared her thinking on it.

“I’ll check on Jungkook and when I get back, I would like to know what you guys would like to eat or drink from now on. I’ll be ordering food from the cafeteria now and I would like for it to be something you guys will actually like.” she spoke, now quiet, scared she would sound too harsh.

Without giving any of them time to answer her or say anything, she made her way towards the door that Jungkook stormed off into. She took a deep breath, thinking about what to say when she’s in front of him. She hopes it’ll work out.

“I’ll go in and try to speak with him, if you hear any commotion, please do come in after me, you have every right to manhandle me if anything is happening as well, I get I'm not strong looking, but I do kick shins really well.” she spoke to the other hybrids.

Knocking gently, she pushed her way into the room when she hear a grunt in reply. When she closed the door, she gently backed up so her body was pressed into the cold metal. This is her time to try and make amends with the hybrid. If he forgave her or not was not up to her, this would take time.

Now that she looks around, it looks like a casual college kids room. posters rested against the walls here and there, a laptop even sat on a nightstand. How he was able to have one, she wouldn’t question. Weirdly enough, the room almost reminded her of her older brothers college dorm when he was still in college.

“Why are you in here?” the bunny snapped from his bed, hands bunched up in his lap.

“Jungkook, I want to apologize for what I said,” she bent her head down, trying to seem less intimidating, “I don’t think you’ll be sold off if you don’t want it. I make all final decisions, If you don’t want adopted, I can refuse any offers made until you know what you want. I can’t promise you that the others wont want to leave though, that’s up to them.”

The boy stayed quiet, watching the female as she waited for his reply. He wouldn’t be so forgiving, he couldn’t. He’s seen how horrible humans were. How horrible they would treat others and then how quick they would be to manipulate them into liking them after all of it. He couldn’t trust humans. He could trust Namjoon. Only Namjoon was trustworthy.

“I do not want to be sold off into another family. It’s bad enough being treated like another slave here, I don’t want to be owned by anyone. If you ever sell me off, I don’t know what I’ll do, but It will not be pretty.” The rabbit snapped out, standing from his bed to try and look big.

He didn’t need to try and look anything when the female was shaking like a leaf in front of him. How little was she told when she decided to take the job offer? How little does she know about this place?

“When things come out of the dark, I don’t want you to change your mind about this. If you’re here to be a caregiver, you stay. You are not allowed to leave, you hear me? Chanyeol can make you think what you want.. but when you see the truth.. you cant leave.”

hi <3

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andrew-minyards-bitch · 3 years

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Aftg characters as conversations I've had with my friends (irl and online)

Nicky: Abby you're a milf

Abby: I'm a what? What does that mean?

Allison: it means mother I'd love to fuck

Abby: i- okay

Kevin: wait do any of us remember our childhood??

Neil and Jean: no lmaoo

Andrew: well I do

Betsy: that's a sign of childhood trauma you dumb fucks

Aaron: I fucking hate math, I will fraction fraction flip over the math teacher

Neil: math is so easy??

Aaron: shut the fuck up you stupid mf

Nicky *Literally anyone of the characters tbh*: I don't know why I'd have to go to conversion therapy when I've been listening to "oh lord come take me to church.." for years now

Matt: I want a hug

Neil: um.. what do you want me to do about it?

Matt: god you're so irresponsive

Renee: I love your voice it's so soothing and relaxing

Allison: okay so kiss me

Kevin: rule number one: I never ever make mistakes, if you feel as though you aren't learning correctly then that is on you not me

Neil: no it's so on me for not getting it

Jean: you know when you think about it,, riko's five foot five.. so ANYWAYS petition for kevin and I to beat the shit out of him

Kevin: agreed, my six foot two tall ass will be able to beat him no problem

Nicky: *long bus ride for tournament* I shited in tennessee

Aaron: we're in kentucky now??

Dan: shit here too

Matt: I wish I could have shited back in tennessee

Allison: thank you nicky for giving me a new life long goal

Neil: yeah you should do a bucket list and shit on all the fifty states

Dan: why is it that when kids play they sound like they're dying? They yell and scream so much

Wymack: And its so disappointing when you look over and they're still there,, fucking breathing and still alive,, like what the hell just fucking die already

Renee: I'm going to steal your cat

Andrew: bitch I will sue you

Andrew: *high on medication drugs* a purp- a squa- (while pointing at a black dot)

Aaron: *laughing in tears* a purple square?!?

Andrew: you have a knife kink

Neil: no?? I?? Don't??

Andrew: yes you do, you literally told me you ratatouille fuck!

Neil: yeah well that was sarcasm

Any one of the foxes: Kevin can you give me a brief info about this date in history?

Kevin: you do remember the last time you asked me this?

Foxes: yeah I got a whole list :)

Matt: my dad full on punched me when I was three

Dan: what!?

Allison: I love milfs/dilfs especially when it's from anime

Nicky: wait Kevin! How olds coach?

Kevin: n o

Andrew: I will literally drown you bitch I hate you so much

Renee: um thanks?

Also andrew helps dyes Renee hair and he said this before they start

Andrew: *has to wash Renee's hair now*

Renee: *thinks andrew's going to drown her* AHHHHHH

Allison: *holds renee* he's not going to actually murder you?!!

Random girl in the other exy team: um heyyy

Neil: she's so annoying help!

Dan: I know just ignore her

Allison: if she tries to get the ball out of my racquet one more time I won't hesitate to beat her bitch ass up

Betsy: will you ever do drugs??

Aaron and Andrew: ...

Betsy: answer me!

Nicky: I love Jeremy so much

Jean and Kevin: get in line

#aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #tfc #kevin day #neil josten #aaron minyard #jeremy knox #jean moreau #renison #renee walker #allison reynolds #jerejean #matt boyd #nicky hemmick #dan wilds

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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

these violent delights, pt. i

In an immersive theme park where cutting-edge technology makes your wildest dreams come true, the line between fantasy and reality begins to blur. enter westworld, where artificially intelligent automatons known as ‘hosts’ are programmed to fulfill your every delight.

(westworld AU, eventual host!dabi x reader, host!keigo takami x reader, eventual shouto todoroki x f!reader)

part one | part two | part three

featuring: hanta sero, denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, momo yaoyozoru, eijirou kirishima

part one: you prepare to enter the park for the bachelorette party your bridesmaids wanted. meanwhile, westworld’s capable employees prepare to roll out the latest programming update.

wc: 8.7k

pt. i warnings: smut (18+!), sci-fi dystopia, artificial intelligence, medical/surgical procedures, body modification. gun violence, robbery, kidnapping, drinking, death, no beta we die like teddy

notes: this is part one of my entry for The Smut Pile’s Western Collab! this is my very first server collab and I am so thrilled to be kicking it off with this plot monster. this is the first of three parts- it leans a little heavy on the world building, so stay tuned for parts two and three. the action dials up from here, promise! i’m excited to be putting out one of my first plot-heavy stories on this blog!

please note: part one borrows several events from season one, episodes one and two of the series. the story will branch off in its own direction in parts two and three. you do not need to be familiar with Westworld to enjoy this fic- so please give it a try! 💖

(MASTERLIST)

“This doesn’t feel right.”

Livestock Management technician Hanta Sero drifts idly from tool cart to operating table with his raven hair pulled back. He’s clad in a protective latex apron and gloves, approaching the table with a blowtorch in one hand and a long, slim pair of forceps in the other.

“That’s what it says here.” Denki Kaminari stands across the black-tiled room, his back reflected in the glass walls of the operating facility. He scrolls mindfully through a folding datapad with a crease of deep concentration in his golden brow.

Snapping his datapad shut, he lifts his chin to find Sero’s conflicted gaze across the lab.

“The specifications were pretty precise.”

“I know what the briefing said,” Sero retorts. “I just…”

He ignites the blowtorch and takes a deep breath, letting his gaze over slowly over the pale, unmarked flesh of the body stretched out on the table in front of him.

“What?” Kaminari takes in the sight before him. He lifts his eyebrows. “Oh. Well-“

He gets up from his stool, tugging his gloves back over his shirtsleeves and crossing the room toward Sero and the body in question. He picks up a scalpel, making a clean little cut just below the subject’s left nipple without any hesitation.

“Dude, stop!” Sero reaches with the hand still clutching his forceps, blanching as a thin well of blood trickles onto pristine flesh.

“He’s offline,” Denki chuckles. “He can’t feel a thing. You’ve patched these guys up a thousand times, Sero. What’s the problem?”

“I dunno,” Sero muses, drawing the back of one glove nervously over his temple. “I dunno. I think they’re starting to get too real. It’s messing with me.” He shoots Denki a weak chuckle and shakes his head.

“What do they need this guy all burned up for, anyway?”

“Momo told me he’s for the new narrative,” Denki replies, puzzling over the red hair and immaculate pale skin of their unsuspecting victim. “Some kind of grizzly new villain who’s supposed to stir up trouble.”

“Better make him extra fucked up, then.” The blowtorch, extinguished in Sero’s panic, is ignited again, but he’s still hesitating.

“Hey,” Denki prompts. “Why don’t we start with the system update? That’ll kill some time. And then- hey.” He reaches across the tool cart, grabbing for the bottle of black hair dye that came with the host’s modification kit. He shakes it in Sero’s face, letting a smug grin cross his features.

“I’ll do the carpet if you do the drapes.”

Sero and Denki find their rhythm easily enough. Before long, the tension dispels and they’re letting conversation flow smoothly between them, making weekend plans while Sero pushes polished silver staples into the now-scarred flesh of the transformed host.

“This guy’s older than he looks,” Denki quips from the tool cart, where he’s selecting an appropriately sized needle for the delicate work ahead of him. “His systems haven’t been updated in years.”

“I’ve never seen him in the park before,” Sero admits. He’s finishing the clean row of staples that trail from the corner of the host’s mouth to his ear, struggling to push the staple into the skin at the edges of his face. The sharp prongs don’t hold as well in the spots where the muscle and flesh thin to just skin stretched over bone. He looks up in frustration, shaking the spots from his concentrated gaze.

“Whoa,” he starts as he spots the way that Denki’s moved up between the host’s lean thighs. “You’re really gonna-“

“That’s what it says in the briefing,” Denki presses. He’s got the aforementioned needle in one hand and a bowl of curved barbells in the other; he’s gone a little grin about the gills, too.

“Sick fucks,” Sero snorts, shaking his head. “Doesn’t feel very historically accurate, does it?”

“Please,” Denki pushes. “If you think this has ever been about history, you’re in for a nasty surprise.”

“Christ, you wanna talk about nasty surprises,” Sero replies, blanching and averting his eyes while Denki inserts the first piercing. “Just wait’ll the guests get a look at him.”

"Bakugou's outdone himself this time," Denki agrees, brow furrowed with sympathy and panicked concentration as he unscrews the first barbell. "Those idiots won't know what hit 'em.”

“Bring yourself back online.”

Head of Programming Shouto Todoroki sits in front of the park’s newest addition, datapad spread across his lap. Sero and Denki’s work paid off; the new host is looking fiercer than ever.

Not new enough for Shouto’s tastes, though. He can still see the blue glint when “Dabi,” as his new narrative calls him, shifts into wakefulness and lets his eyes flutter open. He shoots Shouto a sinister grin but does not move from his seat.

Shouto doesn’t want to believe what they’ve done to him. He’s still nude, putting all his new modifications on brilliant display. The staples in his flesh look angry and inflamed. The scars, done perfectly to appear long-healed, still make his blood curdle.

He can’t even think about the flashes of silver that catch the light when Dabi crosses his legs.

“And who are you supposed to be?" Dabi growls an opening line that shakes Shouto more than it ought to. He sports a brand new drawl that fits the world he’ll be slotted into soon enough, but it’s too much, bouncing off the pristine glass and shiny tile beneath his bare feet.

“Lose the accent,” Shouto commands. Dabi's expression shifts a little, but he does not drop eye contact.

Shouto can’t help but wonder if they all stare like this. He hasn’t been alone with a host in a very long time. Especially not one with this kind of significance.

“Do you know where you are?” He presses, determined to push forward. The sooner he gets Dabi through analysis, the sooner he can pretend like the unsettling host doesn’t exist.

But Dabi’s voice with no drawl is even more spine-chilling.

“I am in a dream.”

“And… do you want to wake up from this dream?”

Dabi’s eyes drift away in a direction they’re not supposed to. For a moment, he casts his gaze down and to the left, letting it sweep across the edge of the room as his brow creases with terrifying subtlety.

The gesture is minuscule, almost as if he's recalling a distant memory. For a moment, Shouto can only admire its beauty.

Then he realizes it’s not supposed to be there.

“Yes,” Dabi continues, his voice soft and lilting and almost wistful. “I’m terrified.”

“Freeze all motor functions.” Shouto’s heart pounds in his chilled throat. His extremities have gone cold. But Dabi follows his instructions to the letter, freezing before he can even blink. Shouto questions why he expected any differently.

Not two minutes later, Head of Behaviour Momo Yaoyorozu ducks gracefully into Dabi’s glass prison. Shouto is still sitting exactly where he began, perched on a little rolling leather stool. Six feet away, Dabi has not moved, bare and frozen on a stool of his own.

"I got your page," Momo soothes, shutting the door quietly behind her and unfolding her datapad. The hinges go rigid when they sit flat, blending seamlessly into a broad tablet that she taps and scrolls quietly through.

“I checked his programming on the way over. There’s something new here,” she concludes. “But I don’t know who added it. Must have been one of the interns, or-“

“I know who it was,” Shou answers grimly, already scrolling meticulously through the lines of code that make up Dabi’s new personality. Momo freezes, looking up at him with cold surprise.

“You don’t think…”

“I do,” he confirms. He takes a deep breath to quell his racing heart and shoots his closest colleague a shaky look. “You’re going to want to see this.”

“Incredible,” Momo gasps a few moments later when Shouto asks Dabi the same series of questions and gets the same frightening response. He knows why it shakes him as much as it does, but it hasn’t occurred to him that someone like Momo would actually… appreciate them.

“It’s like he’s-“ she starts, then stops herself. The conclusion she’s drawn should be as impossible as it sounds. But it’s staring them both in the face.

“Like he’s remembering something.” She finishes her thought this time, and Shou clenches his jaw.

"He must have slipped the code into the update," he determines. "In the programming, he's calling them Reveries."

“Kind of poetic,” Momo muses, still admiring the way that Dabi’s eyes seem to mist as they stare into the middle-distance. “It makes him look so real.”

“The code pulls memories from his earlier programming,” Shouto continues, looking up at Momo and waiting for her to be as spooked as he is.

He’s almost frightened that she’ll be defensive. But she’s sharper than he’s given her credit for, and that revelation is enough to pull her from her stupor.

“That could cause a lot of problems,” she muses. “Especially if the loops haven’t been closed properly. They’re supposed to be wiped after every cycle, but if there are links pulling them back…”

“I know,” Shouto emphasizes. Momo straightens, planting matter-of-fact hands on matter-of-fact hips.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do,” he confesses, turning back to catch another blood-chilling glimpse of the all-too-familiar host. “I can’t just pull the programming out from under him. He’ll know.”

“You can’t send him into the park with it. If it’s slotted in with the update, he could spread it to the other hosts.”

Shouto pushes his datapad aside and leans forward, steepling his fingers as he sighs deeply and descends into even deeper thought.

Momo’s right. With the Reveries included, the update has potentially disastrous consequences. But that’s operating on the assumption that his father makes mistakes, which most people would confirm is simply impossible.

If he clears the programming before letting Dabi go through, however, he’ll be facing the wrath of his father.

Shou purses his lips, lacing his fingers together but leaving the pointers extended and pursing his lips against the smooth joints.

“I think we’re going to have to.”

The glossy, perfect train- the first of many you'll take today, as you're told- pulls into a station that's even whiter than the train itself. Polished white floors and perfect whitewashed columns are the first things you see out the massive panoramic windows as the cars pull to a complete stop. When the doors glide open, your maid of honour touches your sleeve as the other girls filter out of your private compartment and onto the platform.

You’re far from the only ones disembarking the train. The rest of the platform is soon crowded by immaculately-dressed guests from all over the world. They bow and shift like a flock of starlings, moving in stark contrast past the perfectly-still bodies of the white-clad staff waiting to greet them.

A tall, statuesque woman with raven hair steps forward, addressing your maid of honour by name. She gives you an apologetic wave and a see you in there before disappearing amid the writhing sea of people.

You’ve been reading up on this place for weeks, scouring pamphlets and websites and guest reviews for every detail about the induction process you can glean from public knowledge. Details of the park itself are kept very private, but you’ve learned all you can about the way you’ll be introduced to it.

This place was not your first choice for the occasion at hand, but your friends practically insisted. You know it’s for selfish reasons- it’s the only chance they’re ever going to get to see the place for themselves- but you can already think of several places you’d rather celebrate your coming nuptials.

Not exactly your typical bachelorette party fare. But your friends agreed to wear matching dresses in that shade of pale green you couldn’t stay away from, so you’re giving them this.

Before long the platform is nearly cleared. You’re just starting to make your way toward the escalator, wondering what exactly became of the host who was supposed to greet you, when a soft croon of your name over one shoulder nearly shocks you out of your sandals.

Your host has arrived, and he’s even more gorgeous than you feared. Graceful and lithe-looking, he’s clad in a pristine white suit and turtleneck that contrasts the bold flashes of his golden hair perfectly. He shoots you a smooth smile, lit by razor-sharp tawny eyes and as he turns his face to catch the light, you can see that his jaw is grazed by the barest hint of scruff- perfectly groomed, just like the rest of him.

"Hello," you greet, trying not to lose your breath. You clasp the fingers of your right hand around the ring finger on your left- the remnants of your favourite new nervous habit. You've taken to twisting your engagement ring in moments of idleness or anxiety, but for safety's sake, you've left the flashy diamond at home.

You know you’re engaged. That’s what matters most.

“Good,” the host croons. You’re getting quickly used to his honeyed brogue, strong and low and sweet as he takes your hand and drops a suave kiss to your knuckles. “I’m glad you found your way here.” He jerks his head toward the emptying escalator, eyes never leaving yours.

“Follow me.”

As you’re ascending through the polished storeys of the park’s immaculate headquarters, your attendant rattles off a long list of mundane medical questions. He’s tapping away on a datapad as he walks, and you’re sure that whatever information he’s taking down will be swept away for later use.

Finally, he brings you to a plain-looking white door. He tucks away the datapad and slips his hands into his pockets. He’s graceful and perfect- too perfect. You’re starting to suspect that he’s no ordinary employee.

“Go on,” he urges, nodding toward the door. You shoot him a sideways little glance but step forward, hooking your fingers around the polished handle and pushing it open. You step inside.

The interior of the room- or closet, as it would be better described- is lit almost exclusively by glowing strip lights hidden in the crevices of the doorway, racks of clothing, and bordering a large series of mirrors that stud each wall.

It’s the biggest walk-in closet you’ve ever seen. And it’s filled to the brim with racks of clothing, all appropriate to the vague late-19th century setting of the park.

“Everything is bespoke,” pipes your immaculate attendant as he shuts the door behind him, “and exactly your size.” Painfully, you remember being asked for your body measurements in anticipation of this visit. Did they custom-tailor everything for each guest?

Or are you being given special treatment?

“You can pick out anything you’d like,” he continues, moving toward you, “and your other clothes will be waiting for you when you’ve finished your stay.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you muse, fingering the raspberry-coloured silk of a lavish-looking day dress.

“The clothes you choose will determine the course of your experience.”

Your attendant is right beside you now, so close that you can see the way his golden eyelashes brush his tanned cheeks. He’s leaning in to examine the silk same as you, but his shoulder pushes just a little close to be solely practical. As he grips the material between lithe fingers, he lifts his gaze to yours on purpose. There’s a charming lilt to his smile that you can’t help but admire.

He pauses, dropping the silk and turning to face you head-on. Though the smile has slipped from his features, he still eyes you with interest.

“You want to ask, don’t you?”

Your brain catches up immediately, confusion swelling and fading in the span of a heartbeat. It tightens to thick dread in your chest.

He’s right. You do.

“Are you real?” The words sound even more ridiculous in the air between you than they did in your head. But ever since you boarded the train it felt like you could never be sure. And he’s perfect. Too perfect. Even the way he takes your question seems scripted and rehearsed.

He gives a low chuckle and takes your hands, stroking smooth thumbs over the backs of your knuckles. Then he peeks up at you from beneath flawless dark lashes and flashes a hint of pearly canine as he speaks.

“If you can’t tell, does it really matter?”

You don’t need him to expand.

“Come,” he prompts gently, dropping one hand to pull open a drawer of delicate slips and shifts, sitting in neat, folded piles of undyed linen. Some are plain, others trimmed excessively with lace and ribbons. You’re drawn to the coloured ribbons immediately- pale peach, soft blue, mint green. But the brassy gold of your attendant’s eyes is even more magnetic and you can’t look away for longer than a handful of seconds.

“You know,” he continues, squeezing your fingers gently and moving back in to run his knuckles up the inside of your wrist. Every single one of his touches is delicate, fluttering like a songbird against your skin. But there’s nothing gentle about the way he looks at you.

“Some of these clothes are a little difficult to put on alone.”

He does not explain further, but he watches as you’re drawn to the same conclusion that he is.

You have to roll this one over in your mind for a long while. You left your engagement ring behind, but the engagement itself still stands. Then again, he told you to enjoy yourself here. ‘Make every use of the park’s benefits,’ he’d suggested.

He’s just a computer, you tell yourself. A glorified sex toy. Maybe he walks and talks and flirts like a real human being, but…

There’s something about him that’s making it hard to turn him down.

After a silence long enough for any normal person to question, you look up at your attendant once more. He’s patiently awaiting your response, having gone uncomfortably still. You're not even sure he'd blink if you stare long enough.

You give a tight little nod and he’s smiling again, the same lazy smile as before. His default expression, you’re beginning to gather. He reaches for your coat.

“Wait.” You stop him with one hand on either forearm. He’s touched you before, but it’s still shocking how warm he is. Even though the sleeves of his perfect white jacket, he feels unquestionably alive.

"Don't you have a name or something?"

“Of course I do,” he responds. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Um…” Your brow knits. “Yes.”

He slips around behind you, curling his fingers into the open folds of your jacket and beginning to slide the weighty material off your shoulders. As he does, he leans forward, letting his lips draw close to your ear and making you shiver.

“Call me Keigo.”

“Keigo,” you repeat. It’s pretty and rolls easily from your mouth in a slow purr of desire. You can’t help yourself anymore. Keigo’s been programmed to put you at ease, but he’s doing much more for you now.

He undresses you methodically, pausing only briefly to run a hand down the curve of your waist or dip his fingers under the point of your chin when he catches you looking down. Even when you’re standing completely naked in front of him, he does not move to touch you in any untoward manner.

Whatever unspoken arrangement you thought you had formed is obviously not as unspoken as you’d hoped.

With his help, you select some period-appropriate undergarments. He helps you into your breezy linen shift first, lovingly tying the drawstrings into a neat little bow at the centre front. The corset is not as uncomfortable as you'd anticipated, fitting you devastatingly well. Keigo’s skilled hands pull the laces with precise tension, and the whole time he breathes soft commands and inquiries over your shoulder.

“Too tight?” He whispers, holding the laces taught at your waist. You take a slow, deep breath, then shake your head.

“Good.”

He ties the laces off and helps you into two petticoats- one of plain white cotton, the other of decorative silk and lace. Then he sits you on a cool, leather-covered sofa on one edge of the room and drops to his knees in front of you.

“Uh-“ you start, but he produces a pair of silk stockings from seemingly nowhere, smirking over the tops of your knees.

“Let’s get this out of the way.”

He pushes your airy petticoats up from your ankles, letting the backs of his palms brush the insides of your knees. He shoves the material up to your thighs and your confusion is multiplied now- is this what you think it is?

The way he admires your thighs as you shyly press them together certainly makes it seem so.

"Keigo," you gasp, curling your fingers against the edge of the sofa. The leather is supple and delicate beneath your touch like you could tear it if you wanted to.

He looks up just in time to watch you hook a bare thigh over his shoulder, and his brows shoot into his pointed hairline.

You’ve decided what you want out of this trip.

"Dove," he chides, setting down the stockings and pushing them gently aside. He takes both hands up the backs of your calves, stroking perfectly manicured fingernails into the tender skin at the backs of your knees.

He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. His face disappears behind the swath of frothy white petticoats gathered in your lap, but you feel his hot breath on your skin clear as day.

“If you wanted something from me,” he purrs, “all you had to do was ask.”

“I’m asking now,” you hum, letting your head fall back against the back of the couch. He’s easy enough to convince. Somehow, the fact that you didn’t have to work very hard for this almost makes it feel more acceptable.

“Here’s my answer,” he replies, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh. You let out a strangled gasp, thigh jolting against his face as he slips his hand under the other leg- still hooked over his shoulder. You let out a low, shaky breath, trying not to think about the mark he’ll leave.

He pushes your leg away after biting it, shoving your knees apart and leaning eagerly forward. His head is fully buried under your gathered petticoats at this point, and you can feel him nosing his way into the crook of your groin, sliding a few free fingers up to prod gently for your hair-dusted folds.

“Wet already, bluebird?” He chuckles into your skin, sending shivers up your spine. “I’m flattered.”

“Stop,” you groan. There’s heat rushing to your cheeks with every word that tumbles out of his pretty mouth. You don’t want any of this to stop, but the heat between your legs is the one quickly growing unbearable.

“Do you want me to?” Keigo sits back almost immediately, ridding you of the delicious tingles his close breath were sending across your skin.

“No, no!” You yelp sharply, indignantly, digging your bare heel into his back to keep him close. He stops as soon as you apply pressure, letting out a quiet little chuckle.

“Keep going,” you pant, curling your toes against his pretty jacket.

“Your wish is my command,” he hums, already leaning into your flesh again. He does not hesitate this time, burying his head between your legs and giving the weeping slit of your cunt a long lick.

His first touch is all it takes to remind you how long it’s been.

“Fuck,” you gasp, low and languid. He doesn’t hesitate to close his lips around your swelling clit and suck. He makes sharp, sloppy noises with his lips and tongue, and the way they resonate in your ears near-doubles your pleasure. He’s eating you out perfectly, with terrifying precision. The strength of his jaw and tongue remains almost painfully consistent.

All the better for drowning him out. Despite his easy-flowing attitude and suave charm, he’s not a person. And it isn’t unfaithful to want him like this.

Even if you know he wouldn’t like it.

Keigo is diligent and careful, plunging his tongue in and out of your needy hole before finding the nub of your clit again, hard and sensitive. When he flicks the tip of his tongue against the tender front of it your legs spasm and you cry out softly as sensitive goosebumps rush across your ribcage.

“Like that,” you plead breathlessly, drawing your foot up between his shoulder blades as the tension builds. “Again, please.”

You’re holding the swells of your petticoats up around your thighs for him, but your fingers are beginning to clench in the delicate material. You’re not going to last long at all beneath a tongue as talented as his.

“Don’t worry, dove,” he purrs into your body, sending thick vibrations through every nerve in your system, “I won’t leave you unsatisfied.”

As he settles into his rhythm again, he plunges two fingers into your messy depths. He curls them tightly inside you, massaging your tender walls with a blunt and careful touch.

It takes little more than a few methodical strokes to make you fall. You cum with a tight little squeal, closing your thighs tightly around his head while you spasm and buck and sigh. He’s attentive enough to keep pumping his fingers through your orgasm, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible and greedily lapping at the wetness that trickles from your clenching pussy.

"That's it," he soothes, easing you down from your high with one calming hand on the column of your twitching thigh. As you settle, sweat-soaked, back into your seat he surfaces, sweat and shiny, sticky fluid sticking in the bristles of his perfect scruff. He licks his lips and you realize you’ve unconsciously mirrored him, doing the same.

In the moments directly following your peak you say nothing, looking down to meet his brassy gaze as deep uncertainty settles into your gut.

What happens now?

Keigo sits back on his haunches, pulling the folded pocket square from his breast and mopping up the mess on his chin and jaw like he'd done nothing more than spill a glass of wine or splash water over his lips.

“Much better,” he croons, reaching for the discarded stockings from before. “Feeling a little more relaxed?”

You swallow hard.

“I’d say so.”

His smile is surprisingly bright and sunny.

“Good.” He hooks his fingers under your knee again, unhooking your leg from his shoulder. Sliding a palm down to your ankle, he fits one stocking deftly over your foot and slides it up your calf, continuing his work as if uninterrupted. He fits the stockings over your knees and ties them off carefully with slips of silk ribbon, sitting the knots just below your knees so the stockings won't fall. Then, he gets to his feet and offers you a hand.

“Let’s pick out the rest of your clothes, shall we?”

The park is even more immersive than you imagined. The photos do it no justice. When you step off the (genuine steam-powered) train at Sweetwater Station, it’s accompanied by a very real twinge of anxiety. The village is like a scene out of a Clint Eastwood movie. Only there are no cardboard sets here. The saloon doors really swing inward. The shops and businesses that line the main street are built from real, weathered lumber. The dust that’s kicked up by the hosts that go about their daily lives is already beginning to coat your new boots.

You sneeze.

“God bless you,” greets a kind stranger in a rough-hewn grey coat and white hat. He’s got a very apparent drawl to his voice, but the glint in his blue eyes is kind.

Back at the facility, guests and hosts were easy enough to distinguish from one another. Out here, it’s a little more difficult. You’re not sure whether to believe that everyone is real or assume they’re all fake.

Luckily, there are four women beside you whose humanity you are acutely aware of. You’re lucky enough to have found your bridesmaids on the train in- all clustered in the bar car, but together nonetheless.

And they’ve insisted on keeping the party going.

“C’mon, bride-to-be,” your maid of honour chides, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of your reverie. “I know exactly where we need to go first.”

“It’s not even noon yet,” you protest, but the others are already miles ahead of you. You’re dragged easily into the broad, dusty street and toward those broad, swinging doors. The saloon stands proudly in the centre of town on a prominent corner with faded signs advertising its wares. And your maid of honour eagerly bats the doors open, striding boldly into the sun-soaked saloon.

The tables are surprisingly crowded for this time of day. It’s most likely a flood of guests, disembarking the train and heading straight for the local watering hole for a real taste of the action. Beyond their idle chatter tinkles the bright keys of a player piano against one wall. You can see the player scroll turning in the piano’s upright fixture, but that doesn’t change the unsettling way that the keys seem to press themselves.

It’s an eerie fixture in a town populated by walking, talking player pianos.

The man behind the bar bleeds Old West stereotypes from every pore. He’s got a huge, exaggerated greying moustache and a tweed waistcoat with shirtsleeves bound back for work. He’s polishing an empty glass with a cotton rag, but you spot him just in time to watch him politely greet a guest and reach behind him for a frosted bottle of unlabeled whisky.

The only other fixtures in the place are the women patrolling it, clad in colourful, lacy outfits that you’re certain violate some kind of historical convention. But they’re all breathtakingly beautiful, bosoms heaving over tightly laced corsets and fluttering from table to table like songbirds. They seem to provide little more than decoration and, as you settle into a table not far from the door, they fade easily into the background.

Until one of them screams.

You’ve read as many stories as you could scour the internet for before coming here. You know this place can get intense. Details of the park’s narratives and interactive storylines are kept under wraps as much as possible, so you can’t be sure whether this is out of the ordinary or not.

But when you whip around to find the source of the blood-curdling shriek, it doesn’t feel scripted.

It doesn’t feel scripted when the pretty girl in peach lace flings herself to the feet of a brand-new guest, here with his wife and their young son gaping from across the table. It doesn’t feel like she’s supposed to be wracked with sobs having never exchanged a word with this man.

It doesn’t feel like she should be pleading with him.

But the sobs wrack her body anyway, and her rosy little cheeks are flushed deeply now as she sniffles and blubbers.

“My daughter,” she begs hoarsely. “My girl, my daughter, please, I know you have her. Give her back to me, please. I know you took her. Give her back to me, I’ll do anything.”

Whether the father-of-one knows what she's talking about or not he's white as a sheet, stumbling backwards against the edge of his wife's table and pushing his arms forward, trying to keep her away.

The player piano finishes its tune, keys stilling as the saloon’s patrons look on in shock. And for an honest handful of heartbeats, the saloon is silent save for the host’s ragged sobs.

It takes a few moments for the player scroll to re-align itself before the tune restarts, and as the familiar notes cycle back through the saloon the host re-centres herself, climbing to her feet. There's a hardened resolve on her tear-stained face as her target looks around, gathering his wife and son with a this is bullshit and turning to leave.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me-“ the host begins to snarl. She lunches for the man, hands outstretched for the back of his brand new jacket, or maybe the brim of his crisp Stetson.

“Freeze all motor functions!”

A deep voice booms from the door of the saloon, amplified and simultaneously muffled with the use of a megaphone. The girl, and every other host in the saloon, freezes in place as though they’ve been paused. They don’t just stand still- they’re paralyzed. The smiling bartender is stalled with a glass in his hand; he doesn’t even blink.

In the doorway stands a hulking man of at least six and a half feet, seeming nearly as broad across the shoulders as he is tall. He wears a black uniform, armored black vest and heavy combat boots with a head of brilliant red hair spilling over his shoulders. As he lowers the megaphone he’s grinning, the bare flash of a sharp canine catching the low light of the bar.

“Sorry for the intrusion, folks,” he declares, striding across the floorboards toward the frozen host. Her expression is paused in a sneer of sheer horror and aggression, her hand outstretched for the man who has long since stepped aside.

The red-haired guardian angel, who has the name Kirishima stitched neatly onto the breast of his protective gear in white thread, catches your gaze. He shoots you a familiar little wink and a nod, a soft y’alright? escaping his throat in a quiet little growl.

You lick your lips, nodding slowly. Kirishima averts his gaze and reaches for the frozen host. As soon as he touches her skin she goes limp, falling easily into his powerful hold. He hoists her body over one shoulder and surveys the saloon, touching two fingertips to his forehead in a bright little salute.

“Please, don’t let me intrude on your stay any longer,” he continues. “As you were, everybody. Resume.”

The last word seems to be a command for the hosts in the room, as they spin to life again. They resume their rounds as if no time had passed at all; as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever transgressed.

Spooked, but encouraged by Kirishima’s smooth removal of the offending host, the guests around you go hesitantly back to their conversations. The player piano, also halted by Kirishima’s commands, has resumed its delicate play, and slowly the environment returns to the way it was before.

Your friends are among those willing to brush off the incident.

"What happened?" mumbles your maid of honour across the table, as if the host were still around to overhear her. As if the host's friends might be listening in to see if anybody's talking about her.

“No idea,” quips one of the other girls. “Must be some kind of glitch.” She looks over her shoulder, watching the remaining hosts at the bar. “I wonder if it happens often.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Head of Narrative Katsuki Bakugou slams a stack of papers onto the table in front of him, disrupting the intricate hologram that provides a real-time, scale model of the park to the room’s occupants.

“Katsuki!” Momo scolds, watching the hologram stutter and flicker. It’s not the first table he’s damaged.

“You’re not pulling my fucking narrative. It rolls out today. Do you have any idea how many writers I had busting ass on that thing?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she retorts, tapping the screen of the datapad she’s got hooked tightly in the crook of her other arm. “You saw the host that Eijirou pulled, didn’t you? The fact that he had to step in at all means things got way out of hand…”

“Bullshit,” Katsuki retorts, sweeping his papers off the holo-table (and shattering the image one more time). “That was a fucking glitch. You don’t even have the results back from Behaviour yet.”

“I already know what they’re going to say,” Momo continues.

“That’s right,” Katsuki snarls. “I forgot you know everything around here.”

“She was carrying the latest update. There must be something wrong with the code.” Momo tries not to remember Dabi and his distant stare. She swallows the part about the extra coding slipped in by the man who could do no wrong.

She flips her datapad shut- it’s doing her any good, since Katsuki’s right. The results from Behaviour regarding the misaligned host won’t be ready for some time.

“You can’t. Pull. That. Narrative.” Katsuki’s squared up now, all the gathered papers tucked under his arm. His jaw is ticked, nostrils flaring as his eyes flash. “An entire trainload of guests is wandering around Sweetwater looking for the stories they fucking paid for. If you pull the plug, there’s nothing left.”

He’s right again.

“Look.” Katsuki crosses to the holo-table one more time, only this time it’s without the murderous intent in his gaze. For once he’s ready to use the table as intended, pin-pointing the broad, dusty street of Sweetwater’s main strip and bringing up a live feed of the bustling little town.

"Dabi is riding through here in less than two hours," he continues. "Dial-up his aggression a little. Make him shoot up the place. If you want to pull the hosts, at least let them go out with a bang.”

Momo isn’t convinced. But it’s the closest thing to a happy medium she can picture at the moment. Katsuki, as prolific as ever, knows how to think on his feet.

“How many d’you think he’ll take out?” She probes quietly, quirking an interested brow.

“Enough to keep the guests AND your Doctor Frankensteins entertained while I find us some more loopholes.”

Her mind races through more questions. But the panic, fluttering high and shallow in her chest, has somehow been replaced by a delicate sort of reassurance.

She flips open the datapad one more time, activating the remote host commands available only to an employee of her standing. Finding Dabi’s program file, she does exactly as Katsuki suggests and dials up the aggression in his behaviour stats by eighty percent.

“This had better work,” she threatens softly, but Katsuki’s already folding his arms across his chest, looking far too satisfied with himself. His ego is insufferable, but his talent is unmatched. Worth suffering for.

His mouth splits into a triumphant grin as he shoots an idle glance at the live Sweetwater feed. The only stage he’s ever needed.

“’Course it will.”

The afternoon sun has nearly dipped behind the tallest rooftops in Sweetwater when your friends stumble out of the saloon. Your friends are already tipsy, giggling and clutching each other as they try not to trip over the hems of their skirts. They’re all a little too eager to pull out the extravagant lace fans that pair perfectly with their colourful dresses and fan at their heaving bosoms.

As you bound down the steps and into the dirt road, you dive seamlessly into the milling crowd of hosts and guests, starting to swim. If you’re about to be caught in the eye of a devastatingly orchestrated narrative maelstrom, you’re blissfully unaware.

“Give me the time,” Katsuki grunts from the Sweetwater side of the holo-table. Momo glances up at the digital clock on the wall.

“Thirteen fifty-eight, forty-two,” she notes. Katsuki’s got the camera feed trained on a lone trio of riders, clad in black and plodding steadily toward Sweetwater. He watches carefully, keeping an eye turned on the clock.

“They’re going to be late,” he grunts bitterly, folding his arms over his chest. Sero, Denki and Kirishima, who have all crowded around the holo-table on their lunch breaks to watch the show, snort in near-unison.

“I don’t think anyone down there’s keeping track,” Denki quips, smoothing his palms down the front of his crisp shirt, apronless for once. Katsuki shoots him a vicious glare.

“You wanna go back to your sewing room or what?”

Denki goes quiet.

Inside the park, the sun passes behind a cloud. The light shifts just enough to draw your gaze, and when you look up, you’re among the first to spot a few dark shapes approaching. They’re close enough that you can make them out as riders, all on horses as black as the wide-brimmed hats on their heads.

There’s something about them, their precise formation and the slow, plodding, deliberate pace of their horses that holds your attention. You can’t quite write them off as guests, no matter how much they stand out from the dully-dressed villagers around you.

You glance across the street just long enough to spot a WANTED poster tacked to a column not far off. You can’t make out any of the writing on it, but the face is distinct- dark, shaded patches covering his jaw, chin and lower lip, carving out two shadowy patches under his eyes.

There’s something about the narrow shape of his cheeks that pulls familiar.

But you don’t have to wonder much longer.

The three riders ride quietly into town, the crowd parting around them with little more than low murmurs and dull, lidded fear. They pull to a stop in front of the saloon, barely twenty feet from you.

The cowboy in the grey tweed coat who caught your eye fresh off the train approaches the riders. He’s got a revolver holstered on one hip, and he draws it slowly out of its pouch as he squares up with the horse at the lead of the pack.

“Haven’t you seen the signs with your mug on ‘em?” He drawls, his face drawn into an expression of tense righteousness. He jerks his chin toward the nearest one, the WANTED sign you’d seen seconds earlier. “You’re not welcome here, Dabi.”

The taller rider in the centre- Dabi- tilts his chin into the sunlight, and that’s when you catch sight of its purplish colour. His face glints with silver, a perfect match for the drawing posted across the street.

He does not hesitate, drawing his own revolver in one smooth motion and shooting the cowboy in the chest. The gun discharges with a crack that’s louder than you ever imagined it could be, punctuated by the screams of bystanders nearby.

As the village descends into panic you stand there dumbstruck, watching the chaos unfold.

“Wait for it,” Katsuki grunts, hiding his satisfied grin as his colleagues watch in rapt fascination. Sero hasn’t blinked since the action began.

“You sure?” Dabi rasps, voice muffled by the feed. He produces a shiny golden badge and flipping it, like a silver dollar, onto the expiring corpse of the righteous host.

“No,” Denki whines. “He killed the sheriff?”

“Shut up and keep watching,” Katsuki growls, quelling the proud adrenaline pumping through his veins. There’s nothing quite like seeing his hard work come to life- supremely worth fighting with Momo over.

Dabi smirks, tipping the brim of his hat.

“Seems like invitation enough to me.”

He swings capably off his horse and you can’t deny your fascination with the mystery surrounding him. You should be terrified, but there’s something about the cool confidence with which he carries himself that you can’t quite put aside.

If the women flocking to the windows on either side of the street are any indication, you’re not the only one who feels that way. In a brief moment of lucidity, you take a glance around you. Your bridesmaids have disappeared, disappearing in the panicked mass of flooding crowds after the scarred rider fired his first shot.

He’s followed by a second rider on his right flank, both quickly disappearing into the bar. The third rider- a petite blonde woman swathed in a heavy coat- gets down off her horse and turns quickly toward her saddlebags. When she comes around the front side of her steed, she’s got a shotgun in her hands.

She’s loading it. The pandemonium amplifies. At her feet, there’s a long, thick coil of rope that’s partially unwound and trailing into the saloon. It’s unwinding slowly, with dull screams and shattering glass echoing from inside.

That’s all you have time to notice before another shot goes off in front of you. The little blonde girl’s levelled her shotgun, emptying her rounds at anyone who raises a weapon against her. You’re barely standing ten feet away. But she passes you clean over.

Is it because you're a guest? The only ones who have fallen at her hand are the hosts, capable of being hurt by her gunshots. The guests who haven't taken off are clustered in the windows of shops or hiding behind broad wooden columns, but there is no fear painted on their faces.

You know the hosts can’t hurt you. But there’s something about the thrill of it all that sends adrenaline pumping through your veins anyway. There’s a cool mystery to all of the black-clad riders.

A part of you wants to join them. If you can be anyone you want in here… why not one of them? Why not swing cooly down from your horse and terrorize, when there are no consequences to your actions?

You take one step backwards, then another. Your senses are finally coming back to you. You should run. Disengage. Maybe you can’t be caught in the crossfire, but you can’t stand dumbly in the empty street, either.

Something has to change.

Before you can make it to the safety of a storefront, a pattern of three gunshots in tight succession from inside the saloon triggers something in the blonde, still picking off hosts. There are bodies littering the street.

She lowers her shotgun and hops back onto her horse, spurring it on with a sharp whistle. The beast takes off without hesitation, and it’s then that you realize the other end of the coiled rope is wound around her saddlehorn. As the horse strains its haunches and pushes forward the rope goes taut. And as the pair of them take off down the street, the spoils emerge: a heavy wrought iron safe, bursting out of the saloon doors and leaving nothing but splintered remains in its wake.

It bounces and rolls down the steps and slides smoothly as soon as it hits the dirt street. The blonde shooter and her horse disappear, safe in tow.

You wonder what became of the bartender inside and his friendly moustache.

Dabi emerges seconds later, a fresh rifle clutched lazily in one hand. His companion’s lost his hat in the turmoil inside- he’s blonde, too, with a deep scar splitting his forehead from hairline to brow.

"Let today be a lesson for every one of you," Dabi calls, re-cocking his shotgun as he surveys the fresh bodies and fleeing guests. You've stopped dead all over again, drawn to him like a magnet despite your best judgement.

He levels the shotgun, aiming it about five feet to your right. You follow his gaze. In the window over your shoulder, with her hands pressed to the glass, is a little girl no older than five. She’s watching Dabi and his riders with fearful fascination and does not seem to realize that she’s been targeted.

You don’t care if she’s a guest or not. She’s a human girl with big, lively eyes, and your adrenal glands work faster than your sense of logic.

Dabi shuts one eye, tilting his head. The corner of one lip curls ever so slightly as he concentrates, taking aim. “And that lesson is-“

“Stop.” You step in front of the window, spreading your arms and drawing his attention for the first time. When he looks at you over the top of his shotgun, his expression goes slack. He drops the shotgun and his eyes are wide, wider than they’re supposed to be, almost.

You’re close enough to see that they’re a shocking shade of blue. That blue strikes an achingly familiar chord in your heart.

You recognize those eyes.

“What the fuck!”

If the holo-table didn’t weigh half a ton, Katsuki would’ve flipped it on its end. The feed is as smooth as ever, but his face has gone scarlet as he paces away from the table, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“What? What’s wrong?” Kirishima’s well past the end of his lunch break by now, but there’s no way in hell he’s going back to work before seeing the way this plays out.

“He stopped,” Katsuki growls. “He’s not s’posed to fucking stop.”

Dabi’s been stopped on the brink of a speech that took Katsuki days to put together. He’s been waiting to hear it delivered for weeks. It’s the speech that Dabi’s entire narrative was hinged on, forged out of countless sleepless nights and careless notes scribbled idly on coffee breaks.

“Holy shit.” There’s a genuine shock in Denki’s voice that’s enough to make Katsuki turn around. Denki’s gone white, Sero beside him, too.

“You’d better get over here and see this, dude,” Kirishima mutters, jerking his chin toward the feed. Momo’s watching over his shoulder, too, one hand pressed to her pursed lips.

“That’s a guest, isn’t it?” Sero quips. Silence settles over the room.

“I’ll get Shouto,” Momo declares, turning away and opening up her datapad.

“What’s going on?” Shouto bursts into the holo-room not two minutes later, mismatched eyes lit up with urgent concern. “Did I read your message right? I-“

Katsuki’s pacing the room, quieter than ever. Denki, Sero and Kirishima are still gathered around the feed, winding back the stream to replay the events that have sent them all spiralling. Momo’s the only one who even acknowledges his presence.

“Something’s happening in the park,” she explains, hushed and tight as she meets him at the door. “Another updated host is off-script.”

“How bad is it this time?” Shouto asks, hiding the dread that’s spreading in his gut. He had hoped that the girl from the saloon was just an unexpected glitch, but the results from Behaviour told another story.

Still, two deviances in just the first day of the update feels worse than he dreaded.

“You’d better take a look for yourself.”

Momo leads him to the holo-table and the feed, letting the other boys step aside. Shouto steps up to the projection, watching Dabi ride into town. Watching him break into the saloon with Twice and Toga, two other repurposed hosts, by his side.

He watches Toga ride off with the safe behind her and watches Dabi start his speech. And then, from a near-birds-eye view, he watches Dabi spot you of all people. Dabi lowers his rifle and strides toward you.

Shou’s heart leaps into his throat.

With dull horror he watches Dabi slip a leather-gloved hand under your chin. He watches you tilt your jaw into his touch. You’re fascinated by him. Even though the dust and pixels it's painfully obvious.

Dabi seems to notice, too, since he stoops low and hoists you over his shoulder without another word. You struggle, but he holds you fast. He strides across the road to his horse and sets you- still squirming and fighting- in the saddle, climbing on behind you and grabbing you tightly before you can escape.

Just before he spurs his gargantuan black steed forward, he pauses to glance over his shoulder. Shouto can’t be certain, but for a moment it seems like Dabi’s found the camera, staring plainly up at Shouto through its low-quality lens.

A breath passes. He looks away, gives a whistle, and disappears into the wilds beyond the town.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Kirishima presses. “Katsuki, you didn’t program him to kidnap a guest, did you?”

“Of course not,” Katsuki snarls from across the room, his nerves fraying dangerously. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Do I look like a walking liability to you?”

“Look, it’s fine,” Denki chimes in. “It’s not like he can hurt her or anything. Just chalk it up to the park experience. Tell her Dabi kidnaps random nobodies all the time.”

The room goes quiet as a crypt. Kirishima looks at Shouto. Shouto looks at Katsuki. Katsuki looks at Momo, and Momo takes a slow, deep breath.

“Do you want to tell him, Shouto?” she asks, “or should I?”

Shouto closes his eyes and tries to quell the panic rising in the back of his throat. He shoots Denki a cold look, jaw ticked but eyes blazing.

“That’s my fiancé,” he mutters, low and shaky. “Dabi kidnapped my fiancé.”

#hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #dabi #hawks #hawks smut #hanta sero #denki kaminari #eijirou kirishima #katsuki bakugou #momo yaoyorozu #tw guns #tw gun violence #tw death #tw drinking #tw body modification #reader insert #westworld au

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prof-peach · 3 years

Note

Hello professor!

I run a research and rehabilitation center for Ghost types, and I'm somewhat perplexed by a shiny phantump which has recently come into my care.

According to the ranger base that sent him my way he was rejected by his mother, likely due to his coloration, and found entirely alone. Rare in ghost types as they tend to form strong attachments, but sadly not unheard of. Now, introducing pokemon who have never known others of their own kind can be a nightmare (Gastly, for example, tend to mistake the smog released by others for food) but I've never had too much trouble with phantump.

Until this little guy, that is. He has adamantly refused to play with the other phantump, instead clinging to me like a baby komala and wanting to be carried everywhere. Not unusual for insecure phantump, but he seemed entirely unresponsive to my usual techniques for building confidence. After bribing him with some treats and getting my gengar to translate, he confessed to being extremely insecure about his appearance.

I'm unsure if this was brought on by overhearing the rangers theorizing about why he was abandoned, but he's acutely aware that he doesn't look like the other phantump. The little guy is, understandably, terrified of being rejected again, and his social anxiety is through the roof. I've since begin socializing him with some shuppet, and the calmest and most secure phantump in my grove on a one-on-one basis. My local pokemon center has alsi provided me with a mineral powder that I apply to his bark, which makes it look browner and also helps protect against fungal infections.

This has helped him come out of his shell a little, but he's still terribly insecure about his red leaves. I'm reaching out to you as I am, embarrassingly, not very familliar with grass types. I've been told that, as the forests they dwell in are so dark, they don't need to photosynthezise to remain healthy. Still, I'm definitely hesitant to let him simply cover up his leaves. Is there something that could be applied to them, like "hair dye" essentially, that would be safe for my little guy to use until I can build his confidence up to where he's comfortable with his natural splendor?

Alrighty! So this is suuuuper common, shiny Pokemon can feel quite alienated at times for their colourations and general demeanour. For this particular case I’d advise you do a couple things to settle their nerves, some easy, some perhaps a little more tricky.

So, let’s start easy, the foliage is red, this is not only common in some shiny Pokemon, but also in some variant Pokemon, AND actual plants. Where you are, you may have limited access naturally to plants that are red pigmented. Go to a garden centre or nursery, splash a bit of cash and get some seeds, plants, shrubs and trees that are red. Plant them in an adequate accessible area that the phantump can get to with ease. You can find photinia, Berberis, acers, ivy, heuchera, hibiscus, even hazels which will give you nuts for yourself and Pokemon to enjoy come autumn. The red pigment is common, and we find proving this, even in plant form to Pokemon who are also uncommonly red, makes them begin to see their colour as a more normal and acceptable thing. This space will also give them a safe zone where they feel capable of camouflage, and this will instil a sense of security in them, even if they don’t first notice it straight away. Ask the garden centre workers for help should you not know where to plant certain things, or what would suit your location specifically, but there’s a lot to be said about a good old fashioned google, should you feel a little lost about the needs these plants may need.

This red zone seems trivial perhaps, but we’ve studied the effects this has on Pokemon with the very same issue you’re dealing with, and when given the choice, they go and hang out in the red plants far more than the green ones, should they share the same pigments. It helps individuals feel safe, and shows them that red isn’t bad, it’s just different to green, but equally functional, beautiful and capable.

NOW here’s the harder job that will help them gain some serious confidence, but is sure fire with time and patience.

You need to find an organisation, breeder, wild group, or trainer who also has a Pokemon with red pigments. Shiny Pokemon are rare but variants are far easier to find, and you can find red colourations in many grass types, ranging from Bulbasaur through to Eldegoss, and everything in between. The only criteria necessary for this to work for the phantump, is that the helper Pokemon need to be ok with youngsters, ie non hostile, and confident in themselves. There is endless research, countless papers, and a million studies, all proving that putting a Pokemon who is typically different but nervous about that, with others who are different but confident, will boost the nervous pokemons confidence tenfold given time. Many grass specialists exist around the various regions, so get on the internet or ask at local Pokemon centres and the likes, see what you can find close by, and organise socialising sessions for the phantump to mix with these other red pigment Pokemon. This whole process will take anything up to a year or two, just continuous care, repetition, and mixing with social confident Pokemon like themselves.

I’ll say right now, this is harder with phantump, ghost Pokemon can be a little more nervous, sometimes skittish, so y’all just need some patience with them, it’s hard to feel like you’re different from those around you, so put yourself in their shoes and just take things one day at a time.

I will also offer our labs services should you struggle to find somewhere local, we can make room for the little fella should you have no other options, though it is best to keep them in a location they feel more comfortable with, at least at the start. They’d have a chance to meet not only a huge number of other Pokemon who are red pigmented, but also we have one other shiny phantump in our care who has no issue with his physical appearance thanks to exactly the methods I’ve suggested above. Once they’ve gained confidence we would return them to your care, with a far more robust outlook on life.

With this in mind, weigh out your options, and try to show them others like themselves, be them plant or Pokemon, who have a bit more confidence to pass on words of wisdom, support, and company. This issue can indeed be resolved, it just can be a little tricky if you’re new to this species temperament when they feel isolated or self conscious like yours does. Covering up who they are is a temporary fix, and will not install long term confidence in themselves, dyes for plant matter are a little dangerous when over used, and can damage leaves and healthy growth, we don’t advise it in grass types too much to avoid damaging their soft squishy parts.

Good luck and hopefully you can find more just like them, to show them that it’s ok to be red, it’s not unusual, or wrong, and plenty of things have that pigmentation.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

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letsfluxshitup · 3 years

Text

companionship is stored in the fried bread [ao3]

Techno wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here, (somewhat) prisoner at his own kitchen table, as Tommy furiously kneaded dough in front of him.

bedrock bros but with old routines and new trauma aka tommy and techno fry bread

Techno wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here, (somewhat) prisoner at his own kitchen table, as Tommy furiously kneaded dough in front of him.

He remembered waking up from another week long nap, Phil recounting any news he'd picked up, and stumbling back towards his bedroom. He'd barely made it to the stairs before his door had flung open, bouncing off of the wall and slamming shut again.

Techno blinked at the door, before it was flung open again, this time much gentler and followed by a string of curses and taunts.

"Your fuckin door sucks, y'know that? Trying to lock me out? Stubbed my fuckin toe on it, you should get a new one, piece of garbage attacked me." Tommy hissed as he walked through the door, not hesitating to slam it behind him. The door swung back and hit him from behind, bouncing off of a spare shoe that had fallen in the way.

Tommy paused, face and shoulders scrunched up as he sucked in a deep breath, cheeks and ears flushing red in Tommy's signature lead up to I'm

-going-to-throw-a-tantrum-but-it's-not-called-a-tantrum-technoblade-I-am-not-a-child-technoblade-but-that-will-not-stop-me-from-bursting-your-eardrums-because-I've-been-inconvenienced-technoblade.

"Are you hungry?" Techno blurted out, remembering back to SMP Earth, and the foolproof method of derailing a Tommy Innit Tantrum— offering food and/or shiny things.

Tommy deflated in one long exhale, shoulders relaxing and face smoothing as he grinned at Techno.

"Actually, I am, big man! What do you have available? I'm quite hungry actually, I've been walking for a very long time, and it's very rude of you, actually, to not offer me something to eat sooner," Tommy inhaled again, catching his breath. "Did you know that, Techno? Did you know you're very rude?"

"I'm aware," Techno deadpanned, spinning on his heel and heading for the kitchen. Tommy was directly behind him, stepping on his heels more often than not.

Techno gestured towards the kitchen table, in what should have been a universally recognizable symbol of please-sit-down-you're-in-the-way, which Tommy completely ignored by climbing on to his counter to dig in his cupboard.

RaccoonInnit, echoed in his head, startling him slightly since Chat had been unusually quiet since Tommy had appeared.

Techno sighed deeply as the voices picked up slightly, humming their thoughts into his ears. Mostly protect-protect-protect, but there wasn't really anything to protect him from. If he slipped and broke his neck from falling off the counter then that was his own problem.

That train of thought earned him a near unanimous shriek of voices, demanding he make sure Tommy didn't fall.

He sighed again, ending it off with a slight growl as he moved towards Tommy, figuring he may as well entertain the voices for now.

Tommy's head whipped around at the sound of the growl, and he reeled back as Techno moved closer, a stuttering of "sorry- sorry- I didn't-" cut off as he slipped off the counter.

Techno lunged forward without thinking, catching Tommy around the shoulders and lowering him to the ground. Tommy's eyes were wide as he made eye contact with Techno, terror twisting Techno's stomach as Tommy let out a childlike little whimper.

Techno opened his mouth, to speak, to apologize, to break the silence, but was awarded with a face full of sweaty hand, Tommy smacking him away and cursing up a storm as he stumbled to his feet.

When Tommy made it out of arm's reach he paused, shifting from foot to foot, glancing between Techno and the doorway.

Techno blinked, slowly rising to his feet, hands spread out.

"Sorry," he rumbled, voices in his head screaming for him to apologize, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Tommy huffed, puffing up again, forcing his shoulders back and head held high.

"You didn't scare me, dickhead, just startled me a little." He grumbled, arms crossed as he deflated slightly.

Techno certainly wasn't going to argue semantics after nearly causing the kid to crack his head open, and instead brushed the non existent dirt off of his pants.

"So," Tommy huffed, gesturing towards the cabinet. "Where's the flour? I want to fry bread."

He'd managed to sparse through Tommy's nearly incoherent ramblings to pick up that Tommy was hiding from everyone else- or rather, "taking a break, because Big Men don't hide, Technoblade-".

"You needed a break from the drama so you ran to your worst enemy?" Techno deadpanned, reaching for the flour as Tommy sent him a pleading look. His hands were covered in too sticky dough, having ignored Techno's insistence that they needed to add more flour. He couldn't really knead it like that, he was more just squishing it between his fingers.

Techno would be more grossed out if he hadn't watched tommy thoroughly wash his hands. He'd hovered nearby as Tommy aggressively scrubbed before Techno had even let him near the dough, Tommy complaining the whole time about how he knew how to wash his hands and didn't need a babysitter.

Tommy huffed in response, wind whistling between his clenched teeth as he worked the flour into the dough.

"You're not my worst enemy," he snarked, something vulnerable in his eyes and the set of his jaw. "My worst enemy is in prison, currently."

"And hopefully that's where he'll stay," Techno hummed absently, watching as Tommy's shoulders relaxed minutely. "Things have been a lot quieter around here, startin' to wonder if him blaming you for all the problems on the server was just him projecting."

"Yeah, right, of course. He was being a projector and shit," Tommy let out a slightly incredulous laugh, and yeah, Techno realized it was hypocritical of them to place the blame on Dream. But, Tommy looked tired and tense and other t-words with negative meanings that Tommy didn't deserve the weight of.

Tommy rolled out the dough, flour-y hands causing puffs of flour to cling to his shirt and pants and hair. Techno huffed a laugh at the smear of flour across Tommy's cheek, and vaguely gestured towards his own face when Tommy raised a questioning eyebrow.

Tommy immediately swiped a hand across his face, smearing more flour in the process. His eyebrows furrowed, surely able to feel it, and he glowered at Techno, daring him to say something. Techno just snorted as he stood up, ignoring the coos roiling through his head, and waved Tommy away from the rolled out dough.

"We've gotta cut it up now, so we can fry it," Techno said, reaching for the knife he'd left out for this exact reason, carefully watching Tommy for a reaction.

"I know that, dickhead, you don't have to explain," Tommy snapped, head held high, as he watched Techno section up the dough.

Techno kept his eyes on the dough, carefully watching Tommy through his peripherals. In a, frankly, unearned show of trust, Tommy turned his back to him to wash his hands of the flour and sticky dough remnants.

When he was done, though, he whipped back around, watching Techno's hand on the knife. He'd apparently exceeded his reserve of unfounded-trust-for-the-person-who'd-essentially-ruined-his-life for the day.

Which, despite the voices' croons of distress at being untrusted, Techno thought was totally fair.

Tommy was nervous, and on edge, but he didn't seem to be explicitly afraid of Techno, just anxious in general, and Techno wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

Blinking back to the present, realizing he'd just been staring blankly at the cut up bread, he looked to Tommy.

"Do we want to make shapes or just fry as is?" He asked, carefully skirting past Tommy to drop the knife in the sink.

Out of sight, out of mind, hopefully, Techno thought. He quickly rinsed the knife, and cupped his hand to let the water run over the flecks of flour and dough that clung to the sides of the sink.

Tommy opened his mouth to respond and moved past him at the same time, towards the table, shoulder barely brushing across Techno's back. Techno tensed slightly in surprise. Tommy froze, and from the corner of his eye Techno could see he was tensed up as well. After no reaction, Tommy carefully made his way back to the table.

Techno kept fiddling around at the sink, letting Tommy play with the dough while he pretended to be busy. He knew Tommy liked making all sorts of shapes out of the dough, but wouldn't do it if he thought he was wasting Techno's time.

Techno busied himself with finding a proper pot, then filling it with the appropriate amount of oil. He measured it out carefully, and tried not to be bothered about the deafening lack of Tommy's insistence that you didn't have to measure it, the right amount of oil was something you felt in your heart.

He remembered the first handful of times, way back in Hypixel, when Tommy had insisted on teaching him how to fry bread. Those attempts, rife with errors and Tommy shouting about not needing to do silly things like measure, were near disasters, almost always saved by Techno's insistence on following instructions.

Once Tommy's hands stilled and the oil was at the appropriate temperature, Techno consciously relaxed his shoulders and smoothed out his face before turning around, eyeing the flour that had made its home on Tommy's clothes.

"We'll have to get you an apron," he drawled, already thinking about the leftover rolls of cloth he'd made, and if he had any red dye laying around still.

Tommy blinked, hands nervously fluttering at his side, caught off guard. Techno stared blankly back at him, having an idea of what was going through the kid's head.

Technosoft, bounced around in his head and he rolled his eyes when Tommy wasn't looking.

"You're assuming this is gonna be a regular thing?" Tommy tried to snark, but it fell flat, voice coming out too vulnerable and soft. It pitched up at the end, as if asking for permission.

"Yeah," Techno grunted. Tommy's eyes snapped back to him, and narrowed slightly before he huffed.

"Yeah, ok, fine." Tommy crossed his arms in front of himself. "I get it, I get it, you can't live without the great Tommy Innit's amazing fried bread."

Techno snorted as Tommy continued on.

"No, no, I get it, truly, it's just not the same when I don't make it, right? I have the special fried bread making touch, I know, it's a special talent of mine that gets all the ladies." Tommy scooped up the tray of dough, bringing it along to the stove where Techno stood.

"What ladies?" Techno grunted, as he reached for dough to test fry. He ignored the fact that it really didn't taste the same when Tommy wasn't there to help/be a menace.

"I'll have you know, Technoblade, I get lots of ladies-" Tommy puffed up, moving to put his own bit of dough in the oil. Tommy wasn't really paying attention, head tilted up to try his best to look down on someone who was taller than him, as he continued defending himself.

His hand moved down too quickly, and the dough flopped down into the oil, splashing a considerable amount back on to Tommy's fingertips.

Tommy cried out, jerking his hand back to his chest.

There was barely a breath before Techno's hand shot out, grabbing Tommy's around the wrist and dragging his hand towards his face.

Tommy flinched violently, his other hand coming out to swing at Techno, catching him hard across the jaw. Techno let go of Tommy's wrist, shoving him away in surprise, sending him careening into the side of the kitchen counter.

They both stumbled away from each other, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen as the oil kept sizzling away. The only other sound was Tommy's heavy breaths and slight sniffles, and Techno watched as he furiously swiped at his eyes.

"Do not grab me like that, alright?" Tommy snarled, shoulders tensed as he looked ready to run or defend himself.

Techno slowly held his hands up again, forcing himself to relax.

"I'm sorry," he grunted out, "You're right. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

Tommy squinted at him, swaying back on to his heels as he relaxed his arms from where they'd curled up defensively in front of him.

"Sorry for hittin' you." Tommy grumbled slightly, crossing his arms.

"I deserved it," Techno huffed back, scratching the back of his head. "I was just worried about your fingers. Sorry again."

"I accept your apology," Tommy said finally after a tense pause, head tilted back again, a look on his face as if daring him to say something.

"I accept your apology," Techno said back, carefully. Communicating, expressing his feelings and being a "good person" was so hard sometimes. It felt like he was walking on eggshells and if he said the wrong thing everything would fall apart.

Tommy sniffed.

"How's that for communication, huh, Puffy?" He muttered to himself, uncrossing his arms and making his way back to the stove.

"Cmere, dickhead, we have more dough to fry."

Techno relaxed as he made his way back over, and they settled back into banter and teasing.

Techno looked down at their fried bread, an assortment of shapes and figures.

Some were more distinguishable, like the twin T's and the handful of misshapen hearts.

Before Techno could say anything, not that he would've, Tommy started to talk.

"They don't mean anything, dickhead, they're just easy to make. We're not friends or anything, alright?" Tommy puffed himself up again, and Techno absently wondered why he did that, was it subconscious? Was it for confidence or to make himself seem bigger?

Instead of acknowledging anything Tommy said, Techno lightly bumped their heads together. Techno watched as his face flickered through several different emotions, ranging from happy to sad, before he just huffed and turned back to the finished bread.

"Everyone knows the best topping is sugar and cinnamon, I don't know why you even have the honey out," Tommy snarked, aggressively sprinkling sugar on to the bread. The image was kind of ruined by how careful Tommy was being, only covering pieces that were resolutely "his".

"I like the honey," Techno responded, loading his plate with a handful of pieces of bread. He picked up a few plain pieces, unshaped and just flat bits of bread. Tommy slipped a few shaped pieces onto his plate; one that was shaped vaguely like a pig, a crown, and one of the letter T's.

On Tommy's plate was the other T, a bee, and a horribly misshapen cow, along with a majority of the wonky hearts.

Techno drizzled the honey on to his bread, eyeing the excessive amounts of sugar and cinnamon Tommy put on his.

"Y'know, you'd like the honey if you tried it," Techno hummed, ignoring the glower Tommy sent his way.

"You always say that and I never like it," Tommy hissed back, petulant and childish. A warm feeling filled his chest as Tommy settled into their old argument, that Techno knew would eventually devolve into all the other things Techno dared to like that Tommy didn't.

Techno tuned back into-

"You said the same thing about mushroom stew! And cod and broccoli. Who even likes fuckin' broccoli?" Tommy dropped down into the seat next to Techno, pulling his plate to be in front of him. Techno didn't respond, focused on lightly slathering a small piece of fried bread.

3... 2... 1...

"Well, maybe I'll try a little bit," Tommy huffed, accepting the small piece Techno held out to him with a grumbled 'thanks'. Based on his reaction after he stuffed it into his mouth he still didn't like the honey, but he didn't say anything.

They ate in silence, Tommy quickly scoffing down the bread like he was worried someone would take it. Techno ate slower, hoping Tommy would pick up on the fact that he didn't have to choke down his food. This inevitably led to Tommy finishing first, and he silently started cleaning up.

Techno quietly finished up, helping Tommy with the rest of the dishes, before going to settle in the living room. Tommy followed behind him, looking a bit lost.

Techno was hit with the abrupt realization that he didn't want this to end. He liked having Tommy around, his energy filling the house with a warmth Techno never could.

Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his feet.

"I guess I should be heading out then-" Tommy started, eyes flicking to the door.

"No," Techno said, suddenly, too loud and aggressive, making Tommy flinch back.

"I mean- do you, uh, want to have some hot cocoa?" Techno fiddled with his braid, trying his best to give a reassuring smile around his tusks. Based on Tommy's expression it didn't really work, but Tommy stopped looking like he was about to sprint away.

"Sure, I guess," Tommy grinned at him, false bravado coloring his tone. "You missed Big Man Innit? I know, I know, my company is just so great, I see why you wouldn't want to miss out on it."

Tommy practically flounced over to the couch, and flopped down on it, resting his feet on the coffee table. Techno was silently grateful that Tommy was naturally overbearing, and more than willing to make up excuses for the both of them.

Techno retreated back to the kitchen, and it wasn't long before they'd settled into the living room, Techno in his arm chair and Tommy on the couch.

Tommy had loudly insisted on a blanket and pillow, saying he was cold and the couch was uncomfortable, and Techno was quietly hoping he'd just fall asleep there. Then he could avoid kicking him out or, even worse, asking him to stay.

He'd much rather Tommy just take advantage, instead of having a conversation.

Eventually, Tommy's constant stream of chatter petered out, and he slowly slumped back into the couch, falling asleep.

Techno waited until he was sure he was asleep, before carefully checking he wasn't at an awkward angle, he didn't want to deal with the kid complaining about a crick in his neck, ok? He started towards the stairs to his room before hesitating on the first step.

The voices, practically feasting on his reluctance, started loudly protesting at once.

What if a zombie breaks in?

What if the Butcher Army comes back?

What if he has a nightmare?

Techno huffed, ignoring how irrational the last two were, the Butcher Army long disbanded and it's not like Techno cared if the kid had a nightmare.

As if the universe itself was daring him otherwise, a scared whimper broke the silence. Techno looked back to the couch, where Tommy was tightly gripping the blankets around him, and his brow was furrowed. He could see from here how aggressively Tommy was clenching his jaw, and winced in sympathy.

He made his way back over, a quiet rumble in his chest. It was a soothing noise, meant for baby piglins but it worked just as well on Tommy considering how quickly his face smoothed out. Techno settled back into his armchair, accepting that he'd be up late watching over the kid and chasing his nightmares away.

He couldn't believe he'd gotten so soft.

#bedrock bros #tommyinnit #technoblade #fic #dsmp #flux writes

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lancermylove · 3 years

Text

I Love You The Way You Are (HC)

Fandom: BSTS

Pairing: All x fem!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Potato

Prompt: How would the BSTS boys react to finding out MC has insecurities about something with her body (i.e breast size, height, weight, waist size, butt size, etc.)? - Potato

A/N: I think all of us can relate to this in one way or another. Hopefully this hc bring comfort to the readers! Remember that you are beautiful no matter what. 😘

———————————————

Kei noticed you were behaving oddly around him and also knew you were keeping something from him.

Then he overheard you talking to someone on the phone and saying "I don't feel like I'm good enough for him. He's incredible in every way possible; a great singer, a flawless dancer, a talented actor, sexy, well-built, rich...and on top of that, a well-known celebrity. He should be dating someone just as amazing as him..."

The corners of his lips turned down as Kei curled his fists. He was angry at you for saying such a negative thing about yourself. Wasn't good enough? Do you know what you mean to him?

He walked into the room and wrapped his arms tightly around you from behind, "Not good enough? Is that what you think?"

His voice was heavy and drawn, "You are right, I could date anyone I want. Even if I had a chance to date someone else, I would still choose you. Stop being so hard on yourself...I love you just the way you are."

Sotetsu saw you struggling to walk in high heels and heard you mumbling about how uncomfortable it is.

"Then why are you wearing them?" He chuckled.

"I'm short, and I hate being short..."

He would've brushed your words as whining had it not been for the tears in your eyes.

"You are insecure about your height? Why? I like you being short...it makes you a whole lot cuter, especially when you are around me."

"You're just saying that..."

"I am not," he laughed, "but you want to know the best part about you being short?"

Sotetsu lifted you by the waist and held you above him, ignoring your squeals and protests to put you down. "I have fun picking you up and carrying you around."

Ginsei stared at you in shock when he heard you complaining about your nose. "Why don't you like your nose? I don't see anything wrong with it."

"It's not cute enough..."

"Did someone say something to you? If they did, then please ignore their words. Your nose is great as it is. I know I don't have the right to say this since I've my share of insecurities as well, but believe me when I saw you are beautiful."

Ginsei smiled and pinched your nose between his thumb and index finger.

"You...think your fingers are chubby?" Gui mumbled as he pondered over your words. "You don't like them?"

"No, my fingers look unattractive, so..."

He stared at your arms in confusion, "I don't see anything wrong with them."

"Gui, men like a woman with skinny fingers an-"

He interrupted you while shaking his head, "That's not true...I don't see anything wrong with your fingers."

"But, Gui..."

"I like you. The size of your fingers doesn't matter to me..."

Yoshino noticed that you were only wearing open skirts and wondered why. When you told him you thought your thighs were too big, he was at a loss.

"But, (y/n), I l-like your thighs. You look good in everything you wear."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." You didn't believe his words, but Yoshino was determined to make you see the truth.

"I really like to rest my head on your l-lap...your thighs are comfortable, a-and I like to stroke them," he smiled and took hold of your hands. "Please believe me. You are perfect the way you are!"

"Why have you been acting weird the past few days?" Kokuyou asked as he took a seat next to you and pulled out his cigarettes.

"Have I been acting weird?" You asked innocently.

He stared at you before roughly saying, "Drop the act and answer my question."

Averting your eyes, you told him the truth in a quiet voice. "Why do you like me, Kokuyou? I'm not pretty enough to be with someone like you."

He furrowed his eyebrows and growled, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is there a meter somewhere that measures the beauty levels of a woman? Did someone say something to you? Tell me who."

You could sense an air of hostility about him, "N-No...I just t-think..."

"I don't care what you think about this. Stop criticizing yourself and stop listening to dumbasses." Kokuyou grew quiet for a second and exhaled loudly, "If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be with you. You...are beautiful."

Akira stopped walking and looked at you blankly. "You..what?"

"I don't like the size of my butt," you mumbled under your breath, not wanting the people nearby to hear.

"Cutie, I don't know why you don't like it, but if you're followin' some weird trend or listening to other people, then stop," Akira said while ruffling your hair.

"But look at it..."

"I am looking at it and don't see anything wrong with it. Listen, the size of your butt doesn't matter...besides, small butts look cute, and big butts are smackable," he laughed.

"Are you alright?" Sin questioned as he took a seat next to you in the office.

You debated whether or not to tell him the thought on your mind and eventually decided to come clean. "No..."

"Why?"

"I...I see these women with perfect legs and no cellulite...it's so unfair. I can't wear shorts, skirts, or dresses without worrying about the cellulite showing," you muttered with your head lowered.

"There is no point worrying about such trivial matters. It's a way of life, and if someone dislikes you simply for your cellulite, the person does not deserve your attention."

"And you...what you do you think about it?"

Sin chuckled, "I think you are worrying too much. You are beautiful just the way you are."

Taiga noticed you staring in the mirror and touching various parts of your face with a frown. He walked in curiously and asked what you were doing.

"N-Nothing...I..."

"That didn't look like nothing," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "You don't look okay either."

"Why do I look like this? Why...can't I look a little cuter? I mean look at those women that look like flawless dolls."

"You..want to look like a doll? Why?" Taiga was stunned by your reply, "H-Hey, you're telling a gamer you want to look like a doll...have you ever played a horror game? Dolls are the last things any gamer wants to see. Man, I'm terrified of dolls..."

His unexpected response made you laugh and seeing your mood change, Taiga smiled. "I like this you."

When Takami heard that you were insecure about your skin color, he was speechless. "Why...?"

You didn't reply to him; instead, you lowered your eyes and fought back your tears.

"I...I can see why. The media, society, people spouting nonsense...," he gave a small smile and cupped your cheeks, "(y/n), all skin colors are beautiful. The color of skin doesn't determine how beautiful you are nor does it say anything about your skills, intelligence, background..."

"But..."

"Listen, your skin color makes you unique. I mean imagine a world where all of us had the same skin color, same eyes, nose, and mouth. Frankly, that sounds like something straight out of a horror movie."

His words made you giggle. Takami wiped your tears and added, "I love your skin as it is. You are perfect as you are, and I hope you can see that too."

"Rindou, what do you think about my lips?"

"Why do you ask?" He was surprised to hear such an arbitrary question.

"I...hate my lips. Women with plump lips are so lucky."

Rindou cupped your cheeks and looked into your eyes, "Your lips are cute and give you a delicate, feminine look. Women don't need plump lips to look pretty. Don't think less of yourself I like your lips as they are."

"You...don't like your glasses?" Sinju asked, tilting his head to one side. "Why though?"

"I...just don't like them," you said not wanting to give him a full-fledged explanation.

"But your glasses make you look a hundred times cuter," Sinju flashed you a radiant smile. "Are...you worried about getting categorized as a dork, nerd, geek, and all that?"

You didn't give him a reply, but Sinju continued, "You know people nowadays wear glasses as a fashion statement. Doesn't that mean glasses are fashionable?"

Maica stared at your feet silently for a while before looking back at your face. "Your point is?"

"My feet are so big...it bothers me and -"

He interrupted you with a raised eyebrow, "The size of your foot doesn't matter. Some people have small feet, others have large feet. If anyone points out the size of your foot, know that they're insecure about their appearance and are trying to feel better about themselves by pointing out "flaws" in other people."

Maica brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers, “I could care less about you. I love you for who you are, not your shoe size.”

"You have not been eating properly."

You looked at Menou confused, not knowing if he was stating the fact or questioning you.

"Why? Are you not feeling well?"

"I...want to lose weight. My stomach is chubby, and I don't like it."

"Why not?" Menou stifling a yawn and stretched his arms, "I like your chubby stomach. It makes a good pillow...actually, I like sleeping on your stomach more than on a pillow."

"Hair color? What issue do you have with your hair color?"

Yakou was at a loss and couldn't understand what your hair color had to do with your beauty.

"Great...is social media trying to play with your mind? Don't listen to those people," he sighed and cupped your cheeks. "I like your hair color, and it has nothing to do with you as a person or your beauty. Hair color is determined by a pigment called melanin...and people who think otherwise are too stupid to understand."

Seeing you hesitate, Yakou stroked your cheek and whispered, "If you are still uncomfortable with your hair color, then I can help you dye your hair. Though, I would prefer you didn't."

Mokuren poked your upper arm and shrugged. "I don't see anything wrong with your arm."

"It's so flabby though...," you complained.

Team C's leader gave you a puzzled look, "The size of your arms doesn't decide who you are or how beautiful you look. Don't be insecure about such a trivial thing. You need to tell yourself daily that you're beautiful."

Mokuren pressed a kiss on the back of your hand, "Princess, you truly are breathtaking...every part of you is beautiful."

"Dear, is there a reason why you're wearing a heavy layer of foundation? Did something happen?"

You were taken aback by Qu's question, but you should've expected this; being a makeup lover, he would notice right away.

"I...I wanted to hide my freckles," you admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed, "I...don't l-like them."

"Why?" Qu couldn't believe his ears. "Your freckles are cute, and they remind me of stars."

He stepped in front of you and delicately touched your cheeks, "People wish to touch stars, but I am one of the lucky few who can touch them right here."

Kasumi frowned slightly, "Why don't you like your waistline?"

"It's not perfect."

"Please don't be so conscious about your waistline; otherwise, who is going to share donuts with me?"

His comment made you chuckle, "Kasumi..."

He smiled widely and pinched your cheek, "If you still don't feel comfortable with your waistline, then I can help you exercise. So let's eat some donuts, then go exercise, and then eat donuts, and exercise again."

Hari noticed you tugging at your jacket sleeves again and couldn't resist the urge to ask, "Is something the matter?"

"N-Nothing..."

Even though you tried to brush off his concerns, he studied you for a moment and asked, "Are you insecure about the hair on your body?"

You darted your eyes towards him in shock, wondering how he figured it out.

"Did someone say something to you? If so, that person or people need to return to school and pay more attention in their biology class," he frowned, "Every person had hair follicles, so it's natural for hair to grow on their body. It's nothing to be insecure about."

"What does that even mean?" Zakuro chuckled.

"My eyes are not big enough!" You repeated your words and pouted.

"Oya Oya, why would you waste your precious time thinking about that? Women really do worry about the smallest things."

He tilted your chin and looked deep into your eyes, "Your eyes are alluring. When you smile, they sparkle like the stars; when you're sad, they look like glass beads. Your eyes are one of your most attractive features."

You and Mizuki were sitting in the Starless staff room when you asked out of the blue, "Mizuki, do you think my shoulders are broad?"

"Why would ya care about somethin' like that? No, I don't see anythin' wrong with 'em," he mumbled and waited for you to explain the reason behind your question.

"I...think my shoulders are too broad..."

"Baka!" He yelled close your ear, making you wince. "You look good as you are, and if anyone says you don't, then I will kick 'em for ya."

Kongou walked into the locker room and stopped in his tracks when he saw you examining your hips in the mirror. "(Y/N)?"

"O-Oh, Kongou...h-hi," you forced a smile.

"What's wrong? You look upset."

Your lips drew into a straight line as you explained your hatred for your large hips.

"But I like your hips," he smiled, "the way they move when you walk, the curvy shape when you wear jeans...it's really attractive."

A light red spread across his cheeks, "I also like the way they feel when you're close to me."

Ran looked at you blankly, not understanding why you were complaining about your height. "What's wrong with being tall?"

"I tower over everyone...and I feel like a giant," you exhaled loudly.

"But women wear heels or get surgery to look tall, so shouldn't you be happy that you're naturally tall? Besides, I like ya being tall, and I really like your long legs!" He exclaimed with a wide grin.

Heath was going through your photos when he took note of something. “(Y/N), why do you always make the same double peace sign pose?"

"That way my jawline has a V-shape. I wish I naturally had a V-shape jawline...I would look more feminine and cuter."

Heath glanced at you confused. "I don't understand why you would say that. All jawlines are beautiful in their own way. Also, a person's jawline doesn't determine how beautiful they look."

His words caught you by surprise and all you could do was wordlessly stare at him.

"Don't listen to what society, media, or people say. I think your jawline is great, and you're very pretty."

Rico was irritated by your words and wanted to give you an earful but chose to only say, "Who cares about that? But if you're insecure about the size of your breast then wear a bra according. After all, aren't there all types of bras that can either make breasts look bigger or slightly smaller?"

"But Rico..."

"Stop worrying about these useless things. If any girl tells you you're too small or too big, then just tell them to mind their own business," he paused for a moment and frowned. "And if any guy says that to you, then tell me. I will teach him a lesson for staring at your chest."

Unei saw you staring in the mirror, covering your cheeks, and sighing heavily. He asked you what was wrong and why you looked so upset.

"I...I don't like my chubby face."

Unei blinked rapidly, then burrowed his brows in confusion. "Why would you say that? I...like your face."

"You do?"

Unei smiled sweetly and nodded, "You look cute with chubby cheeks, and I...like pinching your cheeks. So, please don't criticize your c-cute face."

———————————————

➣ BSTS Masterlist 1 ➣ BSTS Masterlist 2

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gallifreyan-heart · 3 years

Text

The Husbands of River Song

Okay, this is gonna be a long one, kids. I know it’s the unpopular opinion, but I have issues with River - that’s a post for another day though. 😅

So, now that I’ve finally recovered from Face the Raven - Hell Bent (I mean, recovered as I’m likely ever gonna be), I decided to finally watch this and boy do I have thoughts. I even made gifs. lol.

TL;DR - basically, the whole “in love with River” thing is more kindness than anything and even with the block, he still remembers Clara.

To start though - really, this whole neuro-block thing makes no f***ing sense at all. Like, he doesn’t wonder why there’s graffiti all over the box with the girl from the diner on it?! He sees a message on the chalkboard, but doesn’t react or think ‘hey, that’s weird, someone’s been in here’? So he can remember some of what they did, but not her? 🤦‍♀️ Convoluted much? Ugh. Anyway...

1) The TARDIS was trying to ‘cheer him up’ from a melancholy he couldn’t have understood, right? Obviously it also knew Clara and everything between them, having been there for most of it. The TARDIS’ memories weren’t erased, so that’s a real sad start right off the top. Geez.

2) River - the supposed genius, ‘great love’ of the Doctor, his ‘wife’ of all people, couldn’t figure out it was him? Really? Or as he said, “Seriously?” Even after he flat out said it like 5 times?! Look, Clara MF Oswald would have figured out it was him, I guarantee. Just sayin.

3) DOCTOR: “Stop holding my hand, people don't do that to me.” Ok, ouch, right in the “things he’s forgotten” feels, I see how this is gonna go.

4) Here, however, I think he absolutely was still having bits of memories about Clara (even if he didn’t realize it/couldn’t see her?). The first one that struck me was in the restaurant. I whipped up this GIF - just look at his face here:

He is so uneasy. You can see he’s thinking it’s familiar somehow, but he can’t place it, so it’s upsetting him. Even River asks why he’s frowning. He blames it on concern for the deadlock seal, but I don’t think so... ’cause, well, hello:

5) “I don't like lying down people.” It struck me as such an odd comment. This one may be a stretch, but all I could think was...

6) I’m big into body language cues, especially with people who can’t seem to use their words to say how they feel *cough* 12 *cough*. When Flemming is asking River about the Doctor, he’s watching her. BUT when he says “ You're the woman he loves” - he immediately glares at him & looks away, swallowing hard.

Aversion of the eyes relates to uncomfortable feelings & embarrassment. The hard swallow indicates high stress & embarrassment as well. If the statement were true, there would be no reason for him to feel ashamed. He feels bad. 🤷‍♀️

7) Speaking of body language... her reaction when she finally realizes it’s him:

Looks *super* thrilled, doesn’t she? WTF. To add insult to injury, the first thing she says is that he needs to dye his hair. Are they serious with this? I realize it was supposed to be funny, but I didn’t think it was, she looked 100% dismayed.

8) River asks how he managed to get a new face and he simply replies “ A thing happened.” So...does he not remember what or how? That the only reason he is even still alive is because of a ‘thing’ that is 5″2′, with big brown eyes who loved him so much, that she literally begged the Time Lords to save him? 😒

9) As the towers play music, River notices him looking very sad and even asks if he’s crying. People assume it’s because he knows it’s their last night, BUT I disagree and posit that it was making him think of Clara for several reasons:

Of course he averts the question, but moments later he says... EVERY CHRISTMAS IS LAST CHRISTMAS! Literally. Quoting. Her.

River says she expects him to save her somehow and he flat out tells her I will torture myself for 4.5 billion years and burn this whole fucking universe to the ground to try and save you no. Adding, rather bitterly, that he can’t always save the day and there's no such thing as happy ever after. Hmmm...

The Doctor, about the towers, “when you least expect it, but always when you need it the most (ahem) -pause for him to get INCREDIBLY choked up- there is a song.” Literally the last thing Clara would ever say to him:

You said memories become stories when we forget them. Maybe some of them become songs.

10) RIVER: You can't expect a monolith to love you back.

DOCTOR: No, you can't.

I mean... that seemed pretty clear to me, especially with her reaction.

11) Supposedly a night on Darillium is 24 years, but does that necessarily equate to earth years? This was about the most out of character thing. I’m sorry, but when have you EVER known the Doctor to be able to stand being in one place for a long time (not including 3 because he was exiled without a working TARDIS, so that was unwillingly). Not to mention leaving Earth unprotected for a quarter century???

12) Having the hotel built, making her a sonic and staying with her are all touted as grand gestures that validate his love for her. I've never gotten that vibe with them though. Whenever I see the Doctor interact with River - I feel like it’s watching that one friend that falls all over themselves about a guy who’s really not interested. But he’s nice about it, not wanting to hurt her feelings - because he can see how much she idolizes him and he *does* care for her in his own way. But is River Song his ‘true love’? Absolutely not. Sorry.

13) No Kiss?! You finally have an “age appropriate” (insert eyeroll) woman, they’re in this big romantic setting, on supposedly their last night, on Christmas and nothing? I feel like that kinda speaks volumes on its own.

As an aside, I’d also like to point out in 7x13 when River begged him not to go into his own timestream. He had no idea if he’d make it out alive, which if he didn’t, would have ended their story. Instead, he sweetly kissed her goodbye and yeeted himself right in there with no hesitation - all to save Clara.

Oh, did I mention the 4.5 BILLION YEARS OF TORTURE? Ok, just checking.

Airing only a couple weeks after “Hell Bent” felt like kind of a slap in the face in a way, if that makes sense? Just seemed to me more like fanservice for the Yowzah crowd & Moffat wanting to wrap up her storyline before leaving the show.

This is all just my opinions, and how I see it. It’s okay if we disagree. ✌💙

#doctor who #the husbands of river song #episode thoughts #doctor who christmas special #whouffle #whouffaldi #sorry its so long #clara is the doctors true love #i will die on this hill #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #doctor who season 9 #dw edit #anti river song #anti doctor x river #anti twelve x river

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 4 years

Text

An Accidental Series Of Fortunate Events - Kaminari Denki - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Rating: NSFW 18+ Pairing: Kaminari Denki / F!Reader Words: 6,000 Warnings: Swearing, unprotected sex in an uncomfortable place (aka a vehicle), Denki is an idiot, I make a thinly veiled jab at The Walking Dead cause fuck that show, I was inspired after watching Zombieland, Kirishima with dark hair because who has time to bleach and dye when there are zombies running around?

AN: Another collab piece for the BNHarem server! This month’s theme is Apocalypse, and I got a chance to try my hand at Denki this time around. I think it came out pretty good! Shout outs to my pals @unbreakablekiribaku and @420bakubaby for your encouragement, and to all my loves over in WAP, you know who you are! <3

Check out the rest of the pieces in this collab HERE My Masterlist Buy me a Ko-Fi? ------

Denki sighed, adjusting his backpack as he trudged along the highway. It had been months since the disease had ravaged the country, a plague that no one had foreseen taking the lives of nearly every person in Japan.

He assumed he couldn’t be the only survivor, but he’d yet to see anything that told him otherwise. He didn’t even really understand how he could still be among the living if he was being honest. Denki’s life had always seemed like an accidental series of fortunate events. He got by on sheer luck. He couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

He had tried to search for his friends with the panic hit. The chaos, the recently deceased coming back to life and hungry for humans, the whole thing seemed like something out of a terrible movie or a graphic novel turned TV show that was way too long and drawn out. The only person he’d managed to get a hold of was Sero, and their call had been cut short when the towers had gone down. And that had happened right after the entire city had lost power.

Being a pro hero, he went out into the streets to try and help, attempting to get people to safety and fighting those...things? Zombies? It felt so surreal to even say, even though he had experienced it first hand, watched as the man he saw at the convenience store around the corner from his apartment every morning full-on sprinted at the lady who always walked her Shiba Inu down to the park on Saturdays and ripped her throat out with his teeth.

Shuddering at the memory, he weaved around an abandoned car in the road, peering cautiously into the front seat to make sure that no one was hiding inside and hungry for flesh.

He kept a mental list now of things he had to do, rules he’d made for himself to keep surviving. Double-checking his surroundings was one of them. So when he heard the sound of tires on pavement, the revving of an engine from somewhere behind him, he was prepared, quick to run behind a car that was resting on its side, pressing himself against the undercarriage and listening closely.

Unless the walking dead was able to drive, he finally had an answer as to whether or not he was the last one alive. The question was, was this person going to be a friend or foe?

He heard the engine start to quiet, the sound of the vehicle slowing just beyond where he hid, and braced himself, his first unclenching as lightning coursed along his palms. He chanced a glance over the side of the car when he heard the transmission shift into park, and the sound of the truck door creaking open. What he saw nearly took his breath away.

You were standing on the road, a sawed-off shotgun in hand, your hair tied back and away from your face. Your tattered tank top was streaked in dirt and dried blood, your legs in dark jeans that were tucked into black combat boots. You were beautiful, and you were staring right at him, the gun pointed in his direction.

He ducked back down, his breathing ragged as he tried to figure out what to do now. Did he attack? Did he try to talk to you?

“Hey, Blondie! You gonna hide back there or come out and face me?”

He went rigid, eyes wide. Time to turn on the old Denki charm. He stood, breathing deeply and schooling his features, turning to face you. “Hey, sweet cheeks, what brings you to a place like this?”

You blinked at him, your mouth in a straight line, and he felt his confidence waver. “What does it look like? Just trying to survive. Are you an idiot or something?”

“Hey, no reason to be so harsh, babe. I’m just doing the same as you.” He cocked his hip out and rested his hand on it, shooting you a wink. “I was beginning to think I was alone out here.”

Your eyes drifted away from him and scanned the road, the sound of birds in the distance the only other sign of life. “You’re alone?”

“Course I am. What about you?” He didn’t dare move, trying to keep from staring down the barrel pointed at him. You were just a few feet away, and one pull on the trigger would blow him to pieces.

“There are others. I’m just on a supply run.” You were studying him, looking thoughtful. “Why aren’t you armed?”

He raised a hand, letting the electricity flow down his arm so you could see. “I’m always armed, angel.”

Rolling your eyes, you nodded. “Nice quirk.” You looked impressed, and he couldn’t help but preen a little. Your gun lowered slightly and he felt himself start to relax. “You got a name, blonde?”

“You can call me Kaminari.” He let his hand fall, chancing a step forward. “I don’t mean any harm. Like you said, I’m just trying not to die. Could you maybe put the gun down?”

“Nervous?” Smirking, you lowered the weapon, and he heaved a sigh of relief. “Alright, Kaminari. Why don’t you come with me? You hungry?”

“Starving.” He slumped a bit, finally feeling like you weren’t going to kill him. “I had some jerky for breakfast this morning but it wasn’t great.”

“Tch.” God, you sounded like Bakugou when you made that noise, and it made him miss his explosive friend. “I’ll bring you back to meet the others. If they decide they like you, maybe you could stay with us. We might be able to use that quirk of yours.” You turned back towards the truck you’d arrived in, making to get inside. “No promises, though.”

Denki hesitated for half a second. What if the others you were with didn’t like him? He knew he could be a pain in the ass sometimes. Ultimately he decided to go with you. If your group didn’t like him he could just continue on by himself.

Hurrying around the car, he shrugged off his backpack, opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat beside you. “Hey, you didn’t tell me your name, doll.”

He watched as you settled into the seat, pulling the seat belt across your chest and buckling it. Your eyes met his and you shot him a smile that made his chest tight. “It’s Y/N.”

The car ride back was mostly silent. He was itching to ask you things, the chatterbox in him just wanting to burst forth and talk at you for hours. It had been difficult, being alone, since he’d always been such a social butterfly. When all you had to talk to was yourself for months on end, things could get kind of boring.

However, he didn’t want to scare you off or make you think he was some kind of weirdo, so he stayed mostly silent. He did ask where you were from originally, and about the others you were with, but your answers were short and lacking in detail, and he didn’t want to pry.

“Didn’t you say you were on a supply run?” His eyes were trained on the road ahead, keeping a lookout for the lumbering undead.

“Yeah, I hit up a drug store in the next town over.” You gestured to the back seat. “Medicine and bandages, bottled water, and some canned food. We only take what we need at the moment. We never know how long we’re going to be in one place, so we try to keep it light.”

“That makes sense.” From what he gathered, your group wasn’t large. There were only about 5 of you, so he assumed it was easier for you not to have a large number of things to carry around with you.

“Yeah, we’ve found a house in an abandoned neighborhood to stay in for now. We spent a few days combing through the houses in it, and it looks like the area has been empty for a while.” Your fingers tapped on the steering wheel as you turned the car and took an exit ramp off the highway. “I’m kind of hoping we can stay for a while. It’s nice to sleep on a mattress, and it’s got running water.”

“Oh man, a shower sounds so freaking nice.” Leaning back against the seat, he glanced over at you. “It’s hard when you’re on your own, there’s no one to watch your back.” He shivered when he pictured trying to shower and being attacked by a zombie while he was butt ass naked. “Even going to the bathroom is a risk.”

Snorting, you made a right turn and scrunched your nose. “Imagine dying with your pants around your ankles?”

“My literal worst nightmare.” You both burst into a fit of giggles, and Denki felt the awkward tension in the car ease a bit.

You started pointing out landmarks and abandoned stores. “We’re thinking this was one of the first neighborhoods to evacuate when things got bad. The houses are upscale, so we think they might have been tipped off early. Kind of sucks that the rest of us weren’t prepared at all compared to them.”

Nodding, Denki agreed. “It was absolute chaos in Musutafu. I was on the streets trying to help and just watching people rip each other apart. I’ve never seen anything more terrifying in my life.”

“You’re from Musutafu? So are a few of the people in my group.”

Denki watched out the window as you turned down a side road, the remains of a gated communities’ security booth on your left. The door looked like it had been blown off its hinges, and the windows all around it had been smashed. “Did you check the whole neighborhood?”

“Yeah, we started at one end and searched through all the houses. We were mostly looking for survivors, but we didn’t find anyone.”

You followed the main road as he gazed at the abandoned mini-mansions. Tall grass swayed on every lawn, an obvious tell that it had been some time since there had been any landscaping done. Denki tried to picture what this neighborhood would have looked like before disaster struck, picturesque, with luxury cars in the driveways and well-manicured lawns, kids playing in the street, housewives lounging by their in-ground pools. It was jarring to think it would probably never look that way again.

You pulled the truck into the driveway of a large house at the end of the road, stopping in front of a closed gate. The tall fence connected to it wrapped around the property as far as he could see, and he could just make out a low man-made rock wall just beyond it, like someone had busted up giant slabs of concrete and stacked them all the way around, just to reinforce the fence. He had a feeling that was something that your group had constructed.

“Before we go in, I just want you to know, our self-proclaimed leader can be kind of a dickhead.” You moved to take off your seat belt and shot him a look. “He’s smart as fuck though and he helps protect us, so he’s not all bad. Just keep your head down and don’t provoke him and you’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like someone I used to know. I can handle it, don’t worry.” He cracked his knuckles and grinned at you. “I’m a pro at dealing with dudes like that.”

Eyes rolling, you shook your head. “It’s your funeral.” You got out of the truck and moved to the fence, using a key from your back pocket on the padlock keeping it shut. Denki unbuckled his seat belt and slid into the driver’s seat, watching as you pushed on the gate and walked it forward, clearing the way. Denki drove the truck forward far enough so that you could close the lock the gate behind you. He made to move back over but was surprised when you climbed into the passenger seat. “Just keep going up, we’ll park in the garage.”

He followed your instructions, creeping up the driveway and towards the house, his foot pressing on the break when he noticed the pathway to the garage was blocked.

“Or not.” You sighed. “Just stop here.”

Denki put the truck in park, eyebrows furrowed as he took in the scene before him. There was a car up on cinder blocks, blocking the entrance to the garage. Someone was lying underneath it, their jean-clad legs and black boots the only part of them he could see. He shut the car off and handed you the keys, sliding out of the car when you did.

“E, you’re blocking my spot.” You called, rounding the truck. “Come help me with this stuff and meet the new guy I found.”

“Sorry, Y/N. I’m trying to get this thing to run for us. I didn’t expect to still be working on it when you got back but I’m having trouble.” That voice was familiar, and Denki’s lungs seized in his chest. “Wait, did you say new guy?”

He watched as the man shuffled himself from under the car and stood, his hair long and dark, with red at the tips. Red eyes, pointy teeth. Eijirou Kirishima.

“Kiri?” Pain bloomed through his chest like his heart had stopped beating. He never thought he’d see any of his friends ever again, but here he was, one of his best bros in the entire world.

Kirishima looked up at him, a million emotions flitting across his face before it split into the blinding smile he was used to seeing on his friend’s face. “Denki?”

Denki launched himself at his friend, throwing his arms around him, relief flooding through his entire body. Kirishima picked him up, laughing and hugging him tightly. “Holy shit.” They stayed that way longer than necessary, swaying back and forth and mumbling into each other’s shoulders.

“Thought you were dead, dude. What the fuck?” Red Riot finally put him down, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling,

“I’m a bad bitch, they can’t kill me.” Chuckling wetly, he slapped his friend on the shoulder. “What, you give up on the box dye now that the world is ending?”

“I missed you, dude.” Kiri sighed, choosing to ignore the jab and reaching up to muss Denki’s hair.

“So...do you guys know each other?” Your voice broke them from their reunion.

He had almost forgotten you were standing there. Kiri seemed to be in the same boat. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, Y/N. We’ve known each other since we were 15. Went to UA together.”

“Does that mean-” You started, but Kirishima cut you off.

“Oh my god.” He turned to look at Denki and grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting towards the house. “HEY, SERO?!”

Denki knew he was going to cry for real now. His best friend was alive. The one person that he had been wishing to see this entire time was here, and Denki was going to get to see him again, all thanks to you. If he hadn’t run into you on the highway, this never would have happened. Swallowing thickly, trying to keep his emotions in check, he blinked up at Kirishima. “Sero is here?”

“Bakugou and Mina, too.” His formally red-haired friend turned towards the front door and threw an arm around Denki’s shoulders as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. “The Bakusquad is back together.”

It had been so long since Denki had felt this relaxed. He’d showered and had a hot meal, and now he was lounging on a couch pressed up against Hanta Sero, his best friend. Kirishima and Bakugou were on the opposite couch, leaning against each other. Even though Bakugou had his normal stoic expression on his face, Denki knew he was happy.

Mina was at his feet, chattering on and telling you about UA, and how Denki used to go stupid when he used his quirk too much. Her story came complete with her shooting a thumbs up, crossing her eyes and crying WHEEEEYYY, which had Sero and Kirishima in tears of laughter. Bakugou even cracked a smile, and Denki kind of wanted the floor to swallow him up.

“Hey, do you need to tell her that, Mina?” He kicked his foot out, toes connecting with her back.

“Aw, are you embarrassed, Kami?” Teasing him, she poked his shin, before turning her gaze back to you. “Last I remember, our little Chargebolt here was in the top 20, so I’d say he’s got a handle on his quirk now.”

Denki felt his ears get hot, and he chanced a glance over at you, blushing even harder when you smiled at him. He’d only known you for a few hours and he was already smitten. Sure, it had been a while since he’d had any human contact, and it was hard to jerk it when you were fearing for your life at every moment. So it was only natural that he wanted to catch the attention of the prettiest girl he’d laid eyes on in months, right?

Sero pulled him up not long after, pushing him from the room and out the back sliding door. He leaned against the railing on the wooden patio, his neck craned so he could look up at the sky, and Denki settled beside him, mirroring his posture.

“I can’t believe we found you, man.”

Huffing a breath, Denki nodded. “Yeah, I know. I thought everyone I knew was dead. When we got cut off, I went out to help and figured I’d run into you, but shit was so crazy and I just...I don’t know. I wasn’t ready for that, dude. I became a hero to help people, not kill zombies. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I had to take their lives, even though it was clear that their humanity was gone, you know?”

Humming, Sero bumped their shoulders. “I get you. It’s fine. We all had to wrestle with that. It was hard for all of us.” Sighing, he gripped the railing and hoisted himself up to sit on it, swinging his feet. “The four of us were together, so we decided to stick that way and headed out of the city. We tried to find you, and I was looking for Shinsou too but, we didn’t want to stick around too long.”

A comfortable silence washed over the two of them before Sero continued.

“We found Y/N not long after that, holed up in a convenience store, wielding a shotgun like a champ. She’s badass.” Sero let out a low whistle. “Man, she gave Bakugou the business as soon as he opened his mouth to snark at her. I’ve never seen him shut up so fast. Even Kiri can’t get him to be quiet like that. That’s when we decided to join up with her.”

Denki snorted a laugh, leaning back on his elbows and looking at his friend. “She pointed that thing straight at me and I panicked and called her like 6 different pet names.”

“You’re lucky you’re alive, Kami. She must like you.”

It had been two weeks since Denki had met you on that deserted highway, and you’d reunited him with his friends. Bakugou had been talking about moving on for a few days, but the rest of the group seemed to be comfortable and happy in the house, so he hadn’t been pressing the issue much.

There hadn’t been one attack since Denki had arrived, and from what Mina had told him, they’d only seen a few of the undead since they’d found the place, so no one seemed to be too bothered by it. It still left him feeling uneasy, so used to having to be on alert at all times.

That was the least of his worries when he got to spend time with you, however.

He’d become your official partner when you went on your supply runs, under the guise of keeping you company in the truck when you ventured out into the world. He really just wanted to spend time with you and get to know you better. You had opened up to him more once you realized he was trustworthy, his friendship with the rest of the group enough to prove that to you.

The crush that he had developed on you that first day just seemed to grow more as time went on. He was in too deep, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. In any normal circumstances, you would be completely out of his league, so he knew he had to take this opportunity while it was in front of him.

He really did like you, situation aside. If he wasn’t constantly holed up with you in that house, or that truck, watching your back as you raided abandoned pharmacies and big-box stores for food and clothing and medicine, spending most of his waking moments in your company, he still would have grown fond of you in the way he had. It might have taken longer, but when every day could possibly be your last, there was no reason to pussyfoot around.

Unless your name was Denki Kaminari and you were a goddamn coward.

He was tired of hearing Mina and Sero complain that he was being a pussy, and that he should just make a move. He knew they were right, but there was this little voice in the back of his head that kept repeating the “what if’s”. What if you didn’t like him and you left the group because things got too weird? What if you did like him and he got nervous and fucked shit up? He needed to get out of his own head and just...do something.

He didn’t expect that you were going to beat him to it.

“So,” you said, one hand on the steering wheel and your other elbow leaning against the door as you drove, the window cracked enough to let the breeze blow your hair around. “Are you ever going to kiss me, or are we just going to play this waiting game forever?”

Denki choked on his own spit, sputtering and coughing. “I’m sorry, what?”

Shaking your head, you paused, and he assumed you were waiting for him to stop wheezing. “I mean, am I reading this wrong? You’re into me, right?”

Pushing his hair back from his forehead (which you had generously cut for him the day before), he chanced a glance over at you, steeling himself. ‘Well, yeah, ever since you pointed a gun at me and almost made me wet myself.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Don’t be a wuss, Denki.”

“I love it when you insult me, baby.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he licked his lips. “So, what? You’ve been waiting for me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I didn’t want things to be weird, but I knew I couldn’t be wrong. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” Biting your lip, you turned to look at him for a moment. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since you shot me finger guns and called me babe.”

Rubbing at the back of his neck nervously, he hummed. “Most of the time that scares women away. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with you?”

“We’re all a little crazy, I guess. I think that’s why we’ve survived this long.” Your smile was contagious, and he couldn’t help but grin back, his arm moving across the center console, his hand open and palm up.

You adjusted your grip on the wheel to the other hand, reaching out with your right and letting your fingers slot between his. He squeezed your hand, his eyes fixed out the windshield as you took the familiar highway back towards the house.

The ride back was comfortably silent, your fingers intertwined the whole way. Denki’s heart was pounding against his ribcage as he tried to think of what to do or say next. You, however, had other ideas.

You turned onto the main road that led into the once gated community. He furrowed his brows, confused when you make a left down an unfamiliar street. The houses here were just as abandoned, all of their front doors marked with a spray painted red x.

“We marked them after we went through the houses, so we would remember where we’d already checked. It took us about a week to get through the entire neighborhood.” You explained, somehow knowing what he was thinking.

The road ended in a cul-de-sac, and you pulled the truck around in a circle until it was facing the exit, letting go of his hand so you could shift it into park and turn off the engine. He watched as you unbuckled your seat belt and shifted the seat back away from the steering wheel, his lungs seizing as you climbed over the center console and into his lap.

“Not that I’m complaining, but-” He hands moved to grip your waist and keep you steady as your straddled him, your knees on either side of his hips.

“I’m going to get my kiss, and I’m not going to do it in that house with the rest of those idiots around.” Your hand moved to his hip, fingers pressing the release on his seat belt. He let go of you long enough to pull the offending nylon belt off of him, the sound of the metal slapping against the door as it sprung back into place nearly startling him out of his skin.

“Yes ma’am.” Swallowing thickly, he pushed a piece of your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

The next few moments were in slow motion, eyes fluttering shut, and chests pressing together as you moved closer. His palm slid to cup the side of your neck, your head tilting slightly as your lips finally met.

It took Denki every ounce of control he had not to let his quirk discharge when he finally got to taste your lips. It was everything he’d been hoping for and more. You tasted like the Dr.Pepper you’d gotten when you’d stopped at the pharmacy, and he could smell the scent of your shampoo now that he was close enough. He was addicted almost instantly.

Your lips were soft and pillowy, and he pressed you closer, wanting more. The feel of your hands on his shoulders, nails raking down the front of his t-shirt, and the quiet moan that left you when his right hand squeezed your hip was almost his undoing, but he held on. He would take this at whatever pace you wanted. You were in control.

You pulled away, gasping for air, your nose brushing against his and breath mingling. “You okay?” It was probably a stupid question, but he had to ask. If you felt anything like he did, then you were doing just fine.

“Mmm.” His sentiments exactly. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a smile gracing them. “I kind of want more. Is it too soon? Maybe.”

“Well,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve been telling myself for weeks that we could all die tomorrow, and that I shouldn’t be scared and just go for it, so if that’s what you need to hear…”

“Yep, that’s what I needed.” Blinking at him and biting your lip, your hips ground down against his, the sound of his groan filling the truck. “Fuck it, right? You only live once, and all that shit.”

“Fuck, yes. Bless up, Drake.” He let his hands dip under the hem of your t-shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers sliding over your soft skin.

You sat back and ripped your shirt over your head so suddenly he wasn’t prepared for the movement, and he grabbed your waist again to steady you. “I’ve waited too damn long, Denki. Please, I need you, okay?”

Nodding, he swallowed down his nerves, wanting to show you how much he needed you, too. “You got it, princess. Whatever you want.”

“Shirt off. Pants, too.”

As hot as the moment was, the next few minutes were filled with a lot of giggling and awkward movements as you both tried to undress in the passenger seat of the truck. Denki had the advantage because he was still sitting in the seat, and he just needed to pull his pants and boxers down around his thighs.

You, on the other hand, had your ass pressed against the windshield as you pulled off your boots and tried to tug your skinny jeans down your legs. He tried to help as best he could, keeping you upright and tugging on the denim one-handed until you were able to step out of them. Black lace panties followed, and then you were back on his lap, your mouth pressed to his as your hand wrapped around his aching cock.

Breathless and still laughing, he moaned as your tongues battled for dominance, his hands roaming up and down your sides as you tugged on his hair. Warm fingers moved between the apex of your thighs, dipping through your folds, causing you to break the kiss, throwing your head back. Denki took the opportunity to mouth at your neck, teeth grazing along your skin, biting and sucking marks into your flesh. He inserted one finger inside of you, groaning as your body squeezed around the digit. You were warm and so wet, and he imagined what it would feel like, your muscles clenching down around his cock when he was buried inside of you.

He timed the thrusting of his fingers with the slow drag of your hand around his cock, your moans filling his ears as you rocked back against his hand. He inserted a second finger, scissoring them and stretching you out, taking his time to prepare you. He wanted this to be good, but with the way you felt around him, the way your body felt pressed against him, and the noises you were making, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last.

Thumb rubbing against your clit, he added a third finger, the lewd squelching noises coming from your cunt enough to make his eyes roll back. You were chanting his name in his ear, your forehead pressed against his shoulder as your body rolled against him, your strokes losing momentum. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Pulling his hand from you slowly, he lifted you to sit back a little, adjusting himself and guiding you back towards him. You raised up on your knees, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from biting down on them. You looked so beautiful, and he thanked whoever it was that put him right here in this moment with you.

You smiled at him, and he heard your shaky intake of breath as you lined yourself up and sunk down on his cock. You moaned in tandem, your nails biting into his skin as your grip tightened, hips stilling as he bottomed out inside of you. Denki was grateful for the cracked windows because the breeze that blew through the car felt nice against his burning skin, the beads of sweat dripping down his temple turning cold, and making him shiver.

The realization that even though the windows were cracked open, there was no one around to hear the two of you. Grinning, he thought of all the ways he could make you scream once you were ready for him to move, and he couldn’t wait to hear you cry out his name.

You didn’t keep him waiting long, your cunt squeezing around him was all the indication he needed to start moving. Holding onto your hips tightly, he bucked up into you, reveling in the way you moaned, his toes curling as your hips ground down in sync with his.

Your body welcomed him in with little resistance, gripping his cock, the warm and wet slide as he plunged in and out of you making him dizzy. He focused his attention on unclasping your bra with one hand, pulling it down your arms and letting your breasts spill free from their confines, his head ducking down and his mouth immediately latching onto your hardened nipple.

Your moaning became louder, pussy clenching around him like a vice, unintelligible babbles spilling from your lips as he sucked, teeth grazing the hardened bud, his other hand massaging your other breast.

“Denki, Denki...please. Fuck, I need to come, please.”

Grunting in response, he let your nipple go with a pop, back straightening as he sat up. His fingers brushed along your cheek, turning you to face him properly, his thumb pulling on your bottom lip. “Need to come already, Y/N?”

“Yes, fuck, feels so good, Denki. Please.” Your tongue darted out to lick the pad of his thumb and he shivered again. He could feel the blood in his body traveling south, the wrecked look on your face as you bucked down against him driving him to the edge.

He used his now spit slicked thumb to rub against your clit in tight circles as he slammed into you, teeth nipping on your earlobe as he rasped in your ear. “God, fuck, come for me Y/N. Come on my cock, baby.”

Later on, he would tease you and tell you that even though you were a few blocks away, he wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of your group didn’t hear the noise you made when you reached your end. Your entire body locked up, trembling violently, the cry of his name that left your lips throwing him over the edge as well. He buried his face in your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as his cock twitched, filling you with thick ropes of cum. It was so much that he felt it leaking out of you as you slumped together to catch your breath, even though he was still inside you.

After a while you sat back a little, peering at him with your face still flushed, tears clinging to your lashes.

“You alright?” He brushed the wetness away with his thumb, biting his lip as he gazed at you fondly.

Nodding, you pushed your hair back from your face, a small smile on your lips. “I’m great. That was perfect. God, why did you wait so long, Denki?”

Rolling his eyes, he leaned forward to kiss you softly. “Good things come to those who wait and all that, you know?”

“Okay, but you were just scared I’d reject you, weren’t you?” You pinched his arm playfully, giggling at him when he winced and rubbed at the red mark you’d left.

“Maybe, but it was worth the wait, wasn’t it?”

“You could say that.” Reaching up to pat down his mussed up hair, you fixed him with a serious look. “At least if I die tomorrow, I’ll know I was given the best dicking down I’ve ever received, and that it was from a top 20 pro hero to boot.”

“You just want me for my hero status, babe. Admit it.” He grinned, tickling your side.

“You caught me, Chargebolt. Now, let’s get cleaned up and get back before Bakugou comes looking for us and finds out we fucked in here. He’s going to be so pissed.”

“Let him be pissed.” Denki wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back to him, his lips finding yours again.

And for a few moments, he forgot that the world was ending and that the two of you could be ripped apart in seconds by hungry flesh-eating zombies

You were another accidental fortunate event that he’d stumbled into, and if that’s all that his life was meant to be full of, well, he didn’t mind it at all.

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