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moonjxsung · 7 months

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When the Rain Stops

Read part 2 here.

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 9.8k

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, mentions of cheating, brief comment about calories, use of pet names, sex in a public establishment (no one is around), oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting

Synopsis: A passing storm during a road trip forces you to seek shelter in a little dive bar on the outskirts of town, and you find yourself drawn to the bartender.

18+. Mdni!

•

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, wringing out your stringy wet hair onto the black carpet below you. You know the weather forecast predicted rain- hell, your family even warned you about it when you left their place this morning. But true to your bad luck, you severely underestimated just how much of it. Now, you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere while you wait for the storm to pass.

Okay, maybe not technically the middle of nowhere. But a shitty dive bar surrounded by nothing for miles upon miles isn’t really something to write home about. You know it could be worse- at least here you have access to unlimited alcohol and mozzarella sticks. But a quick look around tells you that’s not enough to redeem it for you.

The place is undoubtedly small, pool tables and red leather booths housing most of the space. Where there’s vacancy at the tables, the servers haven’t bothered to clean up yet, passing by stacks of dirty plates and silverware to serve guests sitting at other tables. A group of men chatter amongst themselves at one of the pool tables, and a single man is sat at the open bar.

You settle on a spot at the open bar, sitting two barstools away from the man and drying your feet on the rug below you.

“What can I get you?” A voice overhead says dryly, and you respond without looking up.

“Just a Coke, maybe? Diet, please.”

You hear the man scoff a little as he retreats, and then you finally look up, slightly offended at his reaction.

He’s walking away from the bar when you see him, only the back of his head visible from behind the counter where you’re sat.

As he disappears into the back to grab a coke, you pull your cell phone out of your bag. You wipe raindrops off the screen with the sleeve of your sweater, pushing the lock button to catch up on unread texts. There are only two, both from your parents, warning you about the rain and requesting you turn back for the night.

You shoot them back a text, assuring them you’ve found someplace safe to stay, and that you won’t be driving in this rain until the storm blows over. But the truth is, you’re rather unsure of that yourself. Your phone currently reads at 26% battery, the storm is predicted to go on for several hours, and there are seemingly no hotels nearby to stay the night. Chances are, you’re going to be here for a good while.

A veiny hand places an iced glass of your Diet Coke in front of you as you finish sending the texts, and you look up to lock eyes with the bartender.

He’s rather tall, with light brown hair that falls just above his soft round eyes, totally contradicting the sharpness in his jawline and nose bridge. The man is dressed formally in a white button-up shirt and a black tie, rolled up halfway at the sleeves, the top two buttons undone to reveal just a glimpse of his broadened chest.

“Is that it?” He asks. His stare is cold and serious, and you find yourself a little intimidated in this proximity to him.

“Yes, thank you. Do you happen to have a phone charger?”

He scoffs again.

“This isn’t a convenience store.”

“I’m aware,” you reply with narrowed eyes. “I just need to make a few calls.”

“There’s a pay phone in the back.”

It’s your turn to scoff. He’s calculated with his words, like he’s trying his best to get you to leave the bar. But you’re as stubborn as they come, and it’ll take a lot more than rude customer service to make you leave in this storm.

“Look, I’m not using a pay phone unless you’re supplying quarters. You don’t have an iPhone charger?”

He rolls his eyes.

“No, I don’t have an iPhone charger. And I’m not supplying you with anything- this isn’t a convenience store. Unless you want a vodka sprite or some chicken wings, I think we’re all done here.”

Before you can reply, he turns on his heel, making his way back to the kitchen and disappearing behind the double doors once again.

The doors swing in and out a few times before coming to a halt, and you stare through the circular window as he resumes cooking something in the kitchen.

Unpleasant- the personalities of everyone in your parents’ neighboring town, miles away from your apartment in the city. It reminds you precisely why you seldom visit these parts.

“Don’t take it personal,” a voice from beside you says. He shifts to face you from his bar stool. “He’s always like that.”

The stranger is well-dressed in a coat and slacks, his black hair styled neatly out of his face.

“Surprised he keeps any business at all with an attitude like that.”

“The locals don’t get the worst of it,” he continues. “Mostly us city-dwellers he despises.”

A small smile forms on your face. “You’re from the city too?”

“Yeah!” he replies enthusiastically. “I’m just passing through for the weekend.”

“Me too! Though I got stuck on the way back home. Doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to leave for a few hours.”

“Oh yeah,” the man says. “It’s really bad out there.”

You shift your attention to the large window at the back of the bar- the rain is still coming down in sheets over the glistening black pavement, nothing visible beyond the blurry traffic lights as the trees melt into an abyss of darkness. The roads appear empty and the parking lot seems fuller than usual for a bar like this.

“I’m Jisung, by the way,” he says finally.

You turn back to him and nod once. “Y/n. It’s great to meet you.”

As Jisung indulges you in conversation about city life, you learn he’s a businessman who visits the area on Saturdays when he gathers in the town with old friends. He also lives alone in a high-rise apartment, he’s single, and he comes to this particular dive bar for the chicken wings. Ones he insists you have to try, so you waive over the bartender to place another order.

“Excuse me, could we get an order of chicken wings?”

The bartender scribbles something and walks away quickly, hardly acknowledging you the way he did earlier.

“You know,” Jisung says. “Maybe the rain isn’t such a bad thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve been talking to the prettiest girl in this bar for the last 30 minutes. Beats being stuck in traffic any day.”

You feel your whole face turn a bright shade of crimson as he grins flirtatiously. Of course, the other way around stands true, too; his features resemble that of a model’s, and you're pretty sure the other girls in the bar have been eyeing him since you walked in.

Before you can respond, the bartender returns, setting a plate down in front of you and some silverware.

“Enjoy,” he says plainly, and he blinks a few times before leaving again.

“Jeez, it’s like he doesn’t even want to work here,” you tell Jisung.

He says nothing in response- he simply slides the plate over to you, ushering for you to choose a piece.

And you do, carefully balancing the saucy cut between your forefinger and thumb as Jisung taps his against yours.

“Cheers,” he says happily. “To the rain.”

The chicken is the best you’ve had in a while- in fact, you can’t recall having better food at any bar before this.

“Wow, you were right, Jisung. this is phenomenal!”

“It’s Minho’s recipe,” he replies with a mouthful of food.

“Who’s Minho?”

Jisung nods in the direction of the bar, where the bartender is cleaning off a glass with a white towel. He raises his eyebrows once at you, as if to confirm he’s indeed the topic of conversation, and you turn back to Jisung.

“It’s really good,” you say loudly, with the intention of Minho hearing your compliment.

But Minho doesn’t respond, instead sauntering over and refilling your Diet Coke. His eyes visibly avoid yours, guarded, like you might instigate another quarreling match with him at any given second. But he also blinks rapidly as he pours your beverage, almost as if he’s trying not to say something himself. You analyze his mannerisms briefly, before brushing them off and enjoying your food again. He’s probably just still peeved from earlier.

“Do you want to play a round of pool?” Jisung interrupts your thoughts. “Not to scare you, but I’m kind of terrible at it.”

His eyes form little crescents as he laughs loudly, and the gloomy vibe in the bar seems to brighten from the sound alone.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

Three rounds in, Jisung is practically sober again, reeling off the high from winning three times against you. He might be terrible, but you’re evidently far worse than he claims to be.

“If I win this match, you let me take you out on a date. How does that sound?” Jisung says through laughter, though he’s entirely serious about the proposal.

Your cue stick prods at his ribs as you smile back in agreement. “And if you lose?”

“I won’t lose,” Jisung retorts. “Might as well pick a restaurant now.”

It’s a failure already, Jisung having only two stripes left while you’re still stuck with all 8 solids. He takes his aim at the cue ball, halting his laughter briefly to position his cue stick, and then cheering loudly as the ball disappears into its nearest hole. You watch with bated breath as he repeats the process, only this time, he misses.

“Hey,” you whine. “You only brought up our proposal midway through this round. At least I deserve a chance card!”

He scoffs. “Pick a chance then. I doubt it’ll get you 7 balls closer to your competition.”

You scan the room in deep thought, one hand resting under your chin and atop the cue stick; and then, the idea hits you.

“He’ll play for me,” you announce, nodding toward the direction of where Minho is wiping down the counter with a rag. He looks up momentarily, furrowing his brows when he notices the shared looks of you and Jisung.

“Get over here!” Jisung shouts, and a few patrons of the tables nearby encourage the invitation, cheering and applauding.

“No,” Minho says as he shakes his head shyly. “I’m busy.”

“There’s literally no one around,” Jisung retorts. “Come on, I know you can try at least once.”

“He’s scared he’ll lose,” you chime in. “And then you’ll have to take me out on a date.”

You swear you see Minho’s eyes narrow, and then he dries his hands with the same rag before setting it down.

“One round only. If I win, you tip double.”

“Deal,” says Jisung, and you watch Minho strut over to the table.

He’s taller than you assumed, towering over you in a black pair of slacks that lengthen his muscular legs. In preparation, Minho cuffs up his sleeves a few more times, buttoning them at the forearm and loosening his collar. You try your hardest not to stare, but it’s a seemingly impossible task, you quickly realize, as he takes your cue stick and positions himself over the table. One loose strand of brown hair falls into his face, and you resist the urge to move it out of the way for him.

The tables nearby are quiet as Minho pulls back, and then aims, the first of your solids rolling into the hole with ease.

“Oh fuck you,” Jisung groans, and Minho positions himself over the next target. Aim, roll back, perfect shot.

Tables around you begin to gather around yours, watching silently as Minho repeats his method. Aim, roll, shoot. The heavy sound of a solid rolling down the velvety surface, and the satisfying plink as it finds its home inside the hole.

Only two solids remain, and Jisung rests his head on his cue stick as Minho takes aim again. “I can’t watch. Someone tell me if he gets it.”

Aim… roll… and double plink- both solids disappear into the hole beneath them, effectively ending the match between the two. The patrons clap and cheer loudly, and Jisung throws his hands in the air, groaning in annoyance. “Fuck, man! You didn’t say you knew how to play pool?”

Minho shrugs, not a hint of a smile on his face as he retrieves the balls and organizes them on the table again. Jisung slides him a twenty, and he shoots you a quick glance, nodding once as he leaves the table and disappears back into the kitchen. You wonder again what he’s thinking about, briefly worried you’ve annoyed him by pulling him away from his work.

“Hey,” Jisung says, snapping you out of your tranced state. “Did you want to… maybe… get out of here? I know a hotel just a few blocks from the bar. We can walk fast.”

You think it over momentarily, weighing your options. The rain has no intention of stopping anytime soon, and you’re dying for a shower at this point. You’re also persuaded by the idea of a warm bed- not to mention, a warm body, for the night.

“Sure! I’m just going to run to the bathroom, I’ll meet you outside.”

The reflection in the mirror looks rough, staring back at you like this, desperately fixing the smudged makeup to the best of your ability and spritzing perfume. It’s been a while since you hooked up with a random person- especially one from a dive bar like this, but somehow you trust him. He’s funny, sweet, and he’s undoubtedly attractive. Plus, maybe a hookup will distract you from the current state of things.

When you exit, you make your way past the barstools, thanking Minho briefly. His lips curl up into a hint of a smile, and you can’t help but feel bad for him- he’s stuck in this shitty bar regardless, dealing with obnoxious patrons seeking shelter from the storm and cleaning up after their drunken messes. He may be a little rude, but it’s deserved, you think, as he cleans off your dishes.

Finally exiting the bar, you look around for Jisung, shielding your eyes from sheets of rain and squinting against the dark sky. The only source of light is a hanging light beside the wooden bar sign, and it illuminates nothing past your immediate eyesight.

“Jisung?” You call, being met only with the sounds of heavy rainfall and swaying leaves.

“Jisung?”

The wind blows violently, and you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering against the brutal cold. A man enters the bar beside you, keeping the door open and ushering you inside. And you do enter again, marching straight to the bar to search for Jisung.

“Excuse me,” you say to Minho, who is busy preparing a beer on tap for another patron. “Did you see the man who was here earlier? Tall, black hair, suit?”

“You mean Jisung?” He says without looking at you, and you perk up at his name.

“Yes! Did you see where he went?”

“Yeah,” Minho replies dryly. “I told him you changed your mind about him.”

“You- what?”

Minho says nothing again, filling another mug of beer and sliding it across the counter to a patron.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“He’s bad news,” Minho shrugs.

The words circle in your head for a good minute while you make sense of them. Minho ruined your chances at going home with Jisung- because he’s “bad news”? What does he even know about him?

“Why do you say that?” The question escapes your lips before you can ponder a more insightful one.

“I know him,” he replies casually. “Like I said- bad news.”

Frustration builds up steadily inside of you, turning your ears a bright shade of crimson and knitting your brows together in pure confusion.

“Who are you to determine that? You’re just a bartender! It’s none of your damn business who I leave with!”

He slaps a palm on the counter, not particularly hard, but enough to startle you a little.

“Actually, it is. I have a legal obligation to ensure my patrons don’t leave here inebriated behind a vehicle, or with strange men. And I saved you from the latter. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” You scoff. “Since I walked in here you’ve been nothing but a complete douche! There’s nothing to thank you for.”

“Then don’t,” Minho says. “I did my part either way.”

You stutter momentarily, settling on silence as he exits back to the kitchen and leaves you standing at the counter. The current state of things feels much like they did when you first entered- drenched from the rain, frustrated, and annoyed with the bartender. Only now, you can add cockblocked to the list, all thanks to Minho.

Two hours past the incident, your phone is completely dead. It’s just past 11 when the rain stills just for a little bit, and hoards of patrons file out of the bar to complete their short trips home. You remain stuck however, knowing the rain will pick up again if you attempt the six hour drive back right now. The bar is nearly empty at this hour, only two people sat at a far table, and the quiet swing of jazz music is now audible from your little booth. The peeling leather of the red seats below you is rather itchy, and the dim lantern hanging over you gives an orange-ish glow to the wooden table beneath you. You scribble mindless doodles on a stack of napkins in front of you, trying your best to pass the agonizing time spent here.

As you finalize the petals of a messy flower drawn on the napkin, a plate is set down in front of you, along with a glass of what you presume is Diet Coke. The smell instantly makes your mouth water- a cheesy omelet coupled with a side of french fries, steam still wafting off the plate and up into the glow of the booth’s lighting. You look up to see none other than Minho, and before you can protest, he slides into the booth across from you, setting a fork down on your napkin.

“You should eat,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s on me,” Minho emphasizes, and you finally look up from your drawing.

“Look,” he begins. “Jisung has been coming here for years. He’s a cool dude, I get it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly like I have a chance with him anymore,” you turn back to your drawing.

“He’s also married,” Minho finishes.

At that, your head snaps up at him, eyes widened in shock.

“What? But he said-”

“Yeah, that’s what he always says. It’s kind of his thing- picking up girls from the bar and taking them to that one hotel. I told you, he’s bad news.”

Silence washes over the booth as you swallow nervously. He shrugs apologetically, fiddling with his fingers as you begin to speak.

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t. I just didn’t want you to come back here crying tomorrow morning like the last girl did.”

It hits you like a ton of bricks- Minho really was looking after you. You’d almost left this strange dive bar, in the middle of nowhere, to sleep with a married man in a sketchy hotel. In hindsight, it was stupid you ever agreed.

“At least eat some fries,” he says, and you remember the plate in front of you. You comply with his request, taking a bite of the still-warm fries which almost melt on your tongue.

“These are really good,” you tell him. “He was right about the food, at least.”

“I’m kind of a big deal here,” Minho says as he leans back. He smirks- the first time you’ve seen an expression on his face tonight.

“I’m sure. How did you get so good at pool, anyway?”

“I work at a dive bar,” Minho says. “Girls ask me to play with them all the time.”

“Do they now? Your reluctance earlier says otherwise.”

“Oh they do,” Minho says. “When they’re as shitty as you, I’m the chance card.”

“Hey!” You shout. Minho giggles, his head thrown back as his eyes form little crescents in amusement. His laugh makes you laugh, too, the musical sound of it making your heartbeat quicken a little. It’s melodic and lighthearted, and you almost forget you’re stuck with him in this hell of a bar. There’s a glow to him at this time of night.

“Run it back,” you say as his laughter dies down. “And I’ll show you I’m not entirely terrible.”

“Better hope you don’t lose,” he says. “You won’t have a chance card this time.”

You still suck at pool. Minho clears the table in two quick rounds, and you’ve barely had time to practice with your cue stick because it’s hardly ever your turn.

“Alright,” Minho says. “I’ll let you have this turn. It’s boring watching you stand there all night.”

You approach the table, positioning your cue stick and taking aim at your first solid of the match.

“Use your thumb on the front hand,” he chimes in.

“Like this?”

“No, it should be between your thumb and pointer finger.”

“Like I’m pinching it?” You ask confused, and Minho chuckles.

“Here.”

Before you can adjust your cue stick again, Minho is behind you, one hand finding yours at the front of the cue stick and positioning it between your thumb and pointer finger like he explained. His hands are cold to the touch, and you’re intimidated having him this close to you. The other hand gently grips your elbow, moving it back a little as he scans the current trajectory. His face is dangerously close to yours, hair falling beautifully into his eyes as he moves, lips parted in concentration and the gentle flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks.

“There. Try now.”

You do as he instructs, rolling back and taking aim at your solid. Aim, shoot… and the familiar roll of your ball across the table. Only this time, it’s followed by the satisfying sound of falling into its respective hole.

“Oh my gosh!” You exclaim. “That’s only the third one I’ve gotten tonight!”

Minho chuckles, amused with your ardent reaction. “Your aim isn’t bad at all. It’s just your positioning.”

He turns to smile at you, momentarily unaware of how close he is to you. He’s towering over you, lips pulled into a mischievous grin as your eyes glimmer, still reeling off the high of scoring. For a brief second, your eyes flicker down to his lips, maybe a little too obviously, and then back up at his eyes.

“I should probably get back to the kitchen,” Minho says nervously. “I think that table ordered drinks like one round ago.”

“Yeah,” you reply, a little hurt that he’s leaving again. “I’m pretty tired, anyway.”

“You want something else to eat?”

“I’m fine, thanks. Good luck with work, though!” You avert his gaze fully now, mentally tracing the pattern on the rug below you.

When Minho leaves, you can’t help but mentally scold yourself. He’s just a bartender- one whose job is to serve you drinks and keep you out of trouble here. Not some friend to stand around and play pool with, regardless of how good he is, or hypnotizing it feels when he touches you.

At 1am, the bar is officially empty. The last few patrons leave after a round of gin vodkas, somehow getting an Uber despite the storm and leaving home for the night. You debate getting a room at the nearby hotel, but there’s no way you’ll be able to reserve a room this late, and your phone is still dead. It would probably be smart to attempt some method of getting home, but a part of you strangely doesn’t want to leave the bar anymore. It feels like a vessel into another universe, like time doesn’t exist here, like the storm or the ride home aren’t important as long as you’re sat in this little booth. You’re well aware the bar closes in an hour, but you’d rather wait until the hour to decide what to do.

Of course, part of it could be the bartender. You don’t want to like Minho, but you can’t quite make sense of him, either. He’s attractive, but reserved. He’s outgoing, but he has his guard up. And his walls break down when he’s enjoying himself, but he builds them up quickly again, and you can’t understand what triggers it. He’s much like the bar is- safe and homely, yet mysterious and alluring.

As you take a sip of your Diet Coke, neck craned to watch the show playing on the tv above you, a familiar face scoots into the booth across from you.

“Subway,” he says.

“What?”

“Jeopardy. Restaurants by slogan: Eat Fresh. It’s Subway.” He's referring to the episode of Jeopardy you’ve been watching for the past half hour.

“Everyone knows that,” you say with a smile.

You expect him to defend himself, but instead he laughs and shakes his head.

“Either our diet cokes are really good, or you’re not in any rush to get home.”

You sigh, swirling your straw around your third can of Coke and shrugging.

“I can’t make it home in this rain. The roads are closed going my direction, anyway.”

“Where’s home?”

“Far from here. In the city.”

Minho sits back comfortably now, arms crossed in front of him as he listens to you speak.

“City girl. I guessed it.”

“What gave me away?” You ask with a smile.

“iPhone charger request. And you drink Diet Coke exclusively.”

“I don’t like to waste my calories!” You argue.

“You’re in a dive bar.”

The two of you share laughter at your admission, and you can feel your cheeks heat up again. He sure knows how to make you laugh.

“I’ll probably get a motel room for tonight,” you say. “I think there’s one walking distance from here.”

“The nearest one is a shithole. I’m pretty sure someone died there, like, a few months ago.”

You exhale deeply, poking around at your drink with your straw.

“I have work on Monday. I have to get some shut-eye or I won’t be able to get home even if it does stop raining.”

Minho glances around the bar, observing the vacant tables and empty parking lot.

“Yah, Jeongin-ah!” He shouts suddenly, and a figure appears around the kitchen door, peering over at your table.

“Yeah?”

“Clock out,” Minho says. “We’re closing an hour early.”

“An hour? But what if-”

“No one else is coming in this rain. Just grab your stuff And get home safely. I’ll handle the rest of the tables.”

Jeongin’s gaze darts over at you quickly, and then back to Minho, as he nods without saying another word. He disappears into the kitchen once again, presumably to gather his belongings.

“You don’t have to close on account of me,” you say finally, a little unsure of his motives. “I can walk to the motel from here.”

He scoffs, sliding out from the booth and gathering a stack of dirty dishes from the table beside you. “I told you, it’s not safe. You can chill here for the next hour while I do closing procedures, and if it’s still raining, I can at least give you a ride there.”

“Why should I trust you?” You ask, hint of sarcasm present in your voice, but still cautious.

“Technically you shouldn’t,” he says with a smile. “But you’re free to call the cops on me whenever you want.”

“Nice try. My phone's dead.” You shoot him a smile, knowing he’s just messing with you, but wanting to entertain his little game nonetheless.

“Back room, third drawer in the file cabinet. There should be a phone charger there.”

You gasp and scoff. “I thought this wasn’t a convenience store!”

“It’s not,” Minho says, flashing you a toothy smile as he makes his way to the kitchen and calls out over his shoulder. “It’s a dive bar. My dive bar.”

Minho scrubs grease off the plates while you dry mugs on the counter adjacent to him and arrange them neatly in a row.

“So you haven’t left this town in years?” You ask Minho, continuing the conversation you’ve been having with him for the past 45 minutes.

“I drive to the city probably once a year,” he replies. “Hate it.”

“Why?”

“It’s too busy. I prefer simple. Simple people, simple places. A simple life.”

“How can you say that when you’ve never experienced it the other way around before?”

“Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Experienced a simpler life. Outside of the city.”

“Well… kind of. I mean, I moved out the second I turned 18. Grew up in the suburbs, but I traveled to the city every chance I got. I always knew I wanted to be there.”

“So you’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible?”

“I guess not.”

He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.

“I grew up in the city.”

“You did?”

“Hated it,” Minho says.

“Why’s that?”

“I was… easily distracted. Got involved with a lot of bad crowds. Never knew what I wanted. Worked as a private chef for a while, actually.”

You stop drying the mug you’re working on and look at him in utter shock.

“You?”

“Me,” he affirms with a chuckle. “I quit one random day five years ago and moved out here with every penny I saved. Obtained ownership of this bar and haven’t looked back since.”

You nod at his words, resuming your task as he shuts off the water.

“Takes some courage, I’ll give you that.”

Minho leans back against the counter and rests his hands on the table behind him. He smirks at you knowingly, and you can feel his eyes pierce through you out of your peripheral vision.

“What?” You say with a blushing grin.

“Nothing,” he replies. “You make a good employee here.”

“Yeah, right,” you say sarcastically, lining up the last mug on the counter and turning around to face him.

“I’d probably start a fire with running water or something crazy.”

He laughs again, shaking his head as you cross your arms.

“I need to close up the registers,” Minho says. “You want to hang out here until I’m done?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he bows slightly.

“I’ll try to be fast.”

Minho leaves to the back office as you wipe your hands with a dish rag, smiling in a daze.

While Minho counts change in the office, you explore the place a bit, making your way around the pool tables to the back of the bar. It’s then that you notice a tall staircase almost hidden away in a back corner. You slowly make your way up the stairs, tip-toeing so as not to startle Minho while he’s in the office closing up for the night. The creaky wooden stairs are muffled by the sound of the rain outside.

When you reach the top, you lean on the banister, looking down on the bar and taking in the view. It looks especially charming like this, illuminated only by the golden neon sign hung over the bar counter and reflecting off the big glass cabinets. Entrance through a small doorway leads to a single, dark room, and you turn on the dim light to explore the room.

There are only two things in the room- another pool table, visibly much older than the others downstairs, and an old arcade game. Upon closer inspection, you find that the game is a run-down version of Pac-Man, one of your favorite arcade games growing up. The giant yellow display is decorated with whimsical little drawings of Pac-Man and ghosts, and you can’t help but crack a smile at the sight, remembering the days you used to play as a kid.

You try the on switch, being met with a buzzing noise and the glow of red marquee lights, but nothing appears on the screen. Bummer, you think to yourself.

“It’s never turned on,” a voice says behind you, and you let out a shout, startled at the sudden noise.

When you turn around, Minho is standing with his hands in his pockets, a black blazer thrown over his button up shirt and a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Got it as a donation a few months ago and it’s lived up here ever since. I think it’d be a hit, if it actually worked.”

You turn back to the machine, observing the gentle hum from the static on the monitor display.

“It’s probably something with the PCB,” you reply, and Minho turns to look at you.

“The what?”

“The printed circuit board,” You repeat, setting your purse down on the floor beside you. “You have a screwdriver?”

Minho’s brows furrow together in confusion, but he nods slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

He leaves momentarily and returns with the requested tool, watching as you drop to your knees and unscrew the door to the cabinet.

“The lights turn on, which is a good thing,” you explain to him. “Means the monitor is still in good condition. So It’s probably just slowed down with general wear.”

When the cabinet door is off, Minho leans back against the pool table and observes as you pull out little parts from the myriad of pieces along the circuit.

“I figured,” You say, sitting back with a tissue in hand. “The EPROMs and ROMs are all warped.”

You pull a bobby pin out from your hair, gently wiggling the pins back in place before cleaning them off with a tissue.

Minho is lost as he watches you, mouth agape at the level of focus in your expression, tongue poking out between your lips as you move with purpose and determination. He realizes he may have undermined you this whole time, thinking secretly you’d crave a simpler life, when all along it was your intelligence and wit that drew you to the city. You’re as complex as the city, he thinks. You can’t be confined within the safety of these four walls like he can. And maybe he’s complex, too. But he’s not sure of himself the way you seem to be.

When you’re finished wiping down the acronyms of pieces, you fit them back in and screw back on the door. Minho watches curiously as you plug in the machine again, reaching around the frame for the switch and flipping it on.

The familiar hum of the screen starts up again, only this time it flashes a bright white color, and then displays PAC-MAN as soft music begins to play.

“Holy shit,” Minho says with a breathy chuckle. “That would've been thousands to get repaired.”

“Take it as a thank you,” you say. “For helping me out tonight.”

You hoist yourself up on the pool table and gesture to the display as he stares in awe. “Try it!”

Minho presses the red START button, chuckling when the familiar tune starts up and the game begins. He makes it through a few rows before getting eaten by a pixelated ghost, groaning when the game flashes GAME OVER and starts up another round.

But he doesn’t resume playing, instead turning around to face you with an unmoving expression.

“It’s drizzling,” he says, looking past you out the little window.

“Mhm,” you reply, though you’re not registering a word he's saying anymore. He’s dangerously close to you again, eye-level with you while you’re sat atop the pool table and not taking your gaze off him.

He seems to be trembling with anticipation, his gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes, hoping you’ll notice the motion and do something, anything with it.

“We should probably get going,” You say in a whisper.

He swallows cautiously. “Yeah.”

“Right now that the rain is a little lighter.”

“Yeah,” he says again, though neither of you make any move to leave.

“Thanks for tonight,” you reply, your eyes fully locked on his lips now.

Minho begins to say something, but his voice hitches in his throat, instead opting to swallow and and take a single step forward. And before you can say another word, his face tilts in front of you, gently pressing his lips to yours.

He kisses you gently, but he doesn’t waste any time, hands caressing your waist in his embrace and pressing up against you. He tastes like mint, his tongue mixing the flavor with the taste of Diet Coke still in your mouth. When he pulls away, he says nothing, searching your expression for a sign of how you’re feeling. You say nothing, too, eyes flickering over his serious gaze and waiting for him to break the silence.

When he still doesn’t talk, you reach out to grab his collar, pulling him toward you again. You kiss him first this time, slipping your tongue inside his parted lips to taste him fully, gripping his collar like you might lose him if you let go.

“Fuck,” Minho says, pulling away and breathing heavily. He squeezes his eyes shut, a nervous expression tugging at his lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t do this,” Minho replies. “With patrons. I just… I don’t know what got into me…”

His words trail off as you work little kisses down his jawline and neck, nibbling over his clavicle and humming greedily against him.

“What if I wanted you to?”

Minho stares at the ceiling as you work him, breath hitching in his throat as you trail even lower.

You pull away from him, tilting his gaze down to meet yours with a hand on his cheek.

“Say you don’t want to kiss me again,” you clarify. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

His eyes narrow, piercing through yours as his hands rest gently on your upper thighs.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” Minho says seriously.

Your heart drops instantly, the anticipation that had built up pending his answer quickly fizzling as his words pierce through you. Your throat is dry, dozens of questions circling your mind, but nothing that comes to fruition amidst your disappointment. Guess it wasn’t the way you’d read into it all night.

“Okay.” Your voice is shaky, doing nothing to mask your disappointment.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” Minho says again quickly, his thumbs tracing circle patterns on your thighs. He leans in again, lips just barely grazing over yours as he speaks in a whisper. “I want you right here, on this table, right now. I want to do a lot more than just kiss you.”

Your heartbeat resumes, pulsing wildly as he scans your face for a reaction. You don’t grant him one through your facial expressions- rather, you pull him in by his collar once again, closing the gap between you and kissing him even harder this time. You can feel Minho smirking into the kiss, amused with how desperate you are at the simple admission.

His hands snake up your sweater, grabbing desperately at your lower back and pressing into you with his hips. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, neck craned to the side for easy access while he begins to work kisses down your neck now.

“You really suck at pool,” Minho says as he smiles against your skin. His lips find yours again, giving you repeated chaste kisses as you tangle your hands in his hair. His lips feel familiar on yours- almost like you’ve done this a hundred times before. You can’t imagine a version of him you weren’t kissing like this.

“You’re calculated,” you say, smiling as you loosen the black tie around his neck.

“How so?”

“No phone charger, you only agree to play pool when a date with Jisung is on the line, and you’ve gotten me to stick around this long? You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

Minho throws his head back a little, his eyebrows arching as he laughs loudly.

“You might be a genius at fixing arcade games, but you don’t have everything figured out the way you think you do.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He pulls away again, completing your task of loosening his tie, and then discarding it completely on the table beside you.

“It stopped raining 15 minutes ago,” he says slyly. “And suddenly you’re in no rush to go home anymore.”

His eyebrows are raised as his hands caress your thighs, moving higher until he’s grazing your hip bones with his fingertips. You don’t reply, suddenly hot at his words, and knowing he’s in fact entirely correct about it. It’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting around for all night- a break in the rainfall to get back to your car and make it to a hotel for the night. But paired against the other opportunity right in front of you- the one wearing nothing but a loosened white shirt and a devilish smirk on his face, you can’t do much but resort to the latter.

“You gonna spread for me?” Minho asks in a gentle teasing tone, his voice much quieter than before as your breath hitches in your throat. You nod, disregarding his first statement and doing as you’re told, slipping off your jeans and opening your legs just enough so that he can move his fingertips to graze your inner thighs. It feels dirty like this, so sinful for your skin to make contact with the velvety table below you. But you’re too dazed with lust, completely encapsulated by his movements to do anything except obey him.

“Good girl,” Minho replies, and your heartbeat quickens at the praise.

His hands dance in gentle back and forth motions along your thighs, gradually getting closer to your core, until his middle finger rests gently atop your clothed clit.

Your eyes dart down to his hand briefly, waiting desperately for him to touch you, to kiss you, anything.

“Look at me,” Minho says.

And you do, making eye contact again with his cold stare, piercing salaciously through your doe eyes.

Another smirk grows on his face as he crouches lower, and lower, dropping to his knees until he’s eye level with your aching pussy.

“Please…” you say, resting your weight back on your palms and spreading your legs further for him. Your breaths are labored, eyebrows arched up at just the thought of his tongue on you.

“Please what?”

“Please, would you… eat me out?” You request quietly, somehow internally panicked that he’ll decline.

But he doesn’t- instead he loops a finger through your underwear, pulling down in a sudden motion, eyes widened at the sight of you like this. You’re swollen with arousal, clit visibly quivering at the proximity of his breath against your folds. Your pussy is deliciously sopping for him, glazed juices painting your cunt all for him.

“God,” he breaks the silence. “You’re soaking. I could probably put it in now and you’d take it, wouldn’t you?”

You don’t answer him, tucking strands of hair behind your ears and looking down on him with anticipation.

“Okay,” Minho says with a slight chuckle. “Just relax for me.”

And without wasting another minute, his hands find purchase on your knees, scooting you closer to the edge of the table before finally burying his face in you. His tongue licks a long stripe along your pussy, smiling at the taste, before his lips latch themselves around your clit and suck harshly.

Your eyes roll back almost instantly, completely lost in the sensation of his tongue gliding back and forth over your folds like a starved animal. His plump lips remain latched to your clit, suckling with lewd wet noises and basking in the flavor of your arousal for him. As your legs tremble with pleasure, your hands quickly find themselves tangled in his hair, grinding him up against you and using his face to satisfy the delicious ache between your legs. Minho is well aware of your desperation, pulling away mere centimeters to grin at your reaction.

“Don’t stop,” you say, massaging his tresses in encouragement to keep going. Minho chuckles, this time latching on to your bundle of nerves with a gentle graze of his bunny teeth. He nibbles tenderly, eyes rolling up to watch your reaction as you sense the shift in his actions.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out frantically. “That feels so fucking good."

Minho smiles into your pussy, giving one small lick with his tongue before utilizing his velvety lips on your clit once again.

“Mmh…” he hums into your pussy, sending divine vibrations that tickle your arousal and instinctively make you moan for him.

“You taste so good,” Minho says between suckling. “I wanna make you cum for me.”

You nod down at him, rubbing little circles on his scalp and throwing your head back when he dips his tongue into your entrance.

“Oh god!”

At first he takes little kitten licks at your entrance, coming back up to kiss your clit repeatedly while you wait in anticipation. And then he brings a hand up to your entrance, sliding one finger in and working it around your pussy as he continues the unwavering attention on your bundle of nerves.

“Yeah, just like that,” you encourage him.

“You like it when I do both at once?” Minho inquires with a knowing smile.

“Yes, fuck” you can hardly answer him between the high-pitched moans that fill the dark room.

“Like when I fill you up?” A kiss on your clit. “Like when I taste you?” He laps at your folds. “Like when I fuck you like this?” Two fingers pump in and out of you now, smearing your arousal back on your clit which he wastes no time lapping up on his tongue.

“Yes, fuck Minho! Please, I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum, then. Want you to make a mess on my face.”

His fingers pump at an even faster pace while he sucks your clit between his teeth and emits a deep moan against your wetness. The vibration of his voice gives attention to the rest of your aching pussy, which finally contracts desperately around his fingers as you leak cum on his tongue. Minho licks you clean, chuckling against you when he takes your clit between his teeth again and hears you gasp in overstimulation.

Both of you say nothing as he stands back up, eye-level to you once again, his chin glazed in your juices. He rests his hands on your thighs as he did before, leaning in to press a sweet kiss on your lips and smile against you. Your hands toy with his belt buckle, tracing the pattern in your fingertips before slowly undoing the buckle and snaking the belt out from the loops on his trousers.

“Let me return the favor?” You ask against his lips, and he takes a sharp breath when you unzip his pants.

“Can I be honest?” Minho replies, and you pull away to look him in the eyes. His round eyes are dark, hooded with lust and curiously peering back at you.

He grins sheepishly, massaging your thighs with the palms of his hands as he speaks. “I think I’ve been hard for you the second you walked in here.”

The words make your heart flutter, suddenly much more aware of his contact against your skin, an insatiable desire to satisfy him and let him do whatever he may please.

Maybe you were the one mistaken all night- maybe Minho’s curt attitude and cold demeanor wasn’t in fact discourteousness at all. Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. And now here you are, each drawn to the other like moths to a burning flame, eager to explore and make the fleeting moment last in any way you could.

You laugh at his admission, moving strands of hair out from his face and tucking your face in the crook of his neck, where he presses a chaste kiss to your temple through nervous laughter of his own.

“Yeah?” You say finally. “What are you going to do about it?”

Minho narrows his eyes with a challenging expression, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you off the table, where he now towers over you and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Turn around,” he orders candidly. Your heart flutters again at the implication- him ordering you around like this when he’s already satisfied you once. But the tone he maintains is both sweet and inviting, and you know his intentions are the same as yours.

You follow his command, facing the pool table as he presses you against the edge, arms wrapping around your waist and peppering your shoulders in little kisses.

His hands snake up your sweater, where he now cups your breasts in his large palms and unclasps your bra. Once you’re bare, you hear him pull down his trousers, the muffled sound sending chills down your spine. If you weren’t dripping with anticipation before, you certainly are now. Minho latches his lips onto your throat, suckling just enough to mark purple bruises along your neck and collarbones. Part of you wants to deny him the little pleasure, reminding him that you have work on Monday and you can’t show up looking like you spent the weekend at a frat party. But the way his skewed front teeth nibble at your flesh stings delightfully, and you can’t bring yourself to protest it.

It’s then that you feel him behind you- his erection pressing into your upper thigh. He pushes into you with force, grinding softly on your skin and moaning against your neck when he feels you lean back into him.

One of your hands reaches out to palm him over the fabric of his boxers, and he lets out a soft whimper at the contact.

“Jesus,” he says “I can’t wait anymore. Prop your leg up for me, baby. On the- yeah, just like that.”

He guides you with one hand, moving your thigh up so that he has better access to your cunt as he palms himself more with his other hand.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, now freeing his cock from his boxers and tapping gently at your entrance. The sensation of his bare flesh against yours has you in a daze, desperate to be filled up by him.

“Mhm,” you say, drunk off the feeling of him behind you like this.

“Gonna put it in now, okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathing heavily as he jerks himself a few times. And without another minute to spare, he’s sliding himself inside of you, bottoming out almost instantaneously as your pussy takes him with ease.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out. “You’re so big.”

Minho smiles against your neck, pressing one chaste kiss and gathering your hair out from in front of your face.

He starts with gentle thrusts, panting in your ear and letting his hands wander all over your body as he moves. Your eyebrows arch up in pleasure, mouth agape as he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of his thrusting teeming all around you.

“God, you take me so well,” Minho breathes. “You’re so wet for me still.”

You can barely respond to him, one hand reaching up to tilt his jaw toward you so you can kiss him on the mouth again, your lips drooling with saliva and fucked-out with pleasure.

“I’m close,” Minho says into your mouth, pausing his thrusts momentarily to then pick up the pace again, much faster and with even more force.

“Ah- me too.”

As he moves in and out of your sopping cunt, one of his hands sprawls out across your tummy, pushing down with gentle pressure as he thrusts. You feel your insides contract at the sensation, now much closer to your release.

“Fuck, M-Min I’m gonna,”

He smiles against your neck again, amused with your reaction to the little move.

“Let go,” he says breathlessly into your ear. “I know you can give me a second one.”

His hand pushes down a little more, now tickling your insides with the constrained sensation against your abdomen.

And between his thrusts, you feel yourself let go around him, letting out a series of breathy moans as you cum on his still-moving cock. Only this time, you let go of everything, trickling fluids over him and the edge of the table, soaking the floor with remnants of you.

Minho’s orgasm follows just seconds after, breathing out melodic whimpers and moans as he feels you squirt, shooting ropes of his cum inside of you and fondling your breasts through his orgasm. He thrusts every last drop back into you, pulling out when he feels you shudder from overstimulation once again.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses as he pulls out. “You made a mess for me, baby.”

When you’re both finished, you’re quick to dress yourself, pulling your sweater back over your head and buttoning your jeans once again. Minho turns around while you get dressed, well aware that he was inside of you just minutes ago, but wanting to respect your boundaries now that you’re no longer being intimate. He gets dressed too, observing through the little window how the rain hasn’t started again in the entirety you’ve been up here. When you’re done, he turns back around, shooting you a little smile as you fix your hair.

“What?” You inquire, mirroring his expression as he stares back at you.

“Where have you been?” Minho asks simply.

“Hm?”

“Where have you been all my life?”

You cock your head a little, not missing the way he blinks nervously a few times after asking the question.

“Not the suburbs,” you reply with a smile. “That’s for sure.”

The gentle lull of jazz music rings through Minho’s ears as he wakes, glancing around to take in his surroundings. He’s sprawled out on the dingy red couch in the back room, still wearing last night’s clothes, hair glued to his forehead under a sheen layer of sweat. The clamoring of dishes startles him, and he furrows his brows together in annoyance as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Minho?” A voice says, and he shuts his eyes preemptively at the inquiry. “Did you…sleep here?”

When his eyelids flutter open again, he’s met with Jeongin, who’s already showered and dressed for his noon opening shift, clutching the till in both hands as he observes Minho’s disheveled state.

Beside him, the little folding table is in disarray, empty bottles of coke and peanut shells scattered everywhere. His mind goes back to last night- the arcade game, kissing you in the spare room upstairs. Fucking you over the pool table at ungodly hours of the night.

After you’d both finished, you agreed to stay in the back room downstairs until daylight when it was a bit safer to be on the road again. You and Minho chatted over diet cokes and a game of cards, between makeout sessions and desperate groping at each other in the dim light of the room. He wanted so badly to make love to you all over again, resisting the urge only because he didn’t want you to think all of this was just for sex. And maybe it started that way, when he fled back to the kitchen after helping you adjust your cue stick during a round of pool in an attempt to hide his raging hard-on. But somewhere along the way, he was also encapsulated by you- by your endearing obsession with Diet Coke, your ability to carry a conversation with a total stranger in these circumstances, and undoubtedly, your unique talent at fixing things.

It was just past 5 when you left, doing a double-take at Minho’s snoring figure to ensure he was actually asleep. You wanted to thank him- in fact, you stood over him for several minutes, playing the conversation in your head of how this would go.

“I’m leaving now- thanks for the life-changing sex and the free sodas. Call me if you’re ever in the city you despise.”

There was no good way to go about it- any which way, you knew that the two of you were destined for very different things, to live completely separate lives.

“You’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible,” Minho had said to you earlier, and you knew he was right, even still longing to one day get out of this province, and maybe even this country. A simpler life scared you- exactly what Minho chased after. And perhaps by extension, chasing after Minho scared you, too.

The dive bar suddenly feels suffocating to Minho, still looming with the rotten scent of cigarettes and beers. For the first time ever, he feels boxed in, much too confined by the four walls and the foggy window at the back.

“I’m leaving,” Minho says, quickly gathering his bag and his blazer from off the floor.

“Where are you going?” Jeongin asks, still holding the till and scanning Minho with a worried expression on his face.

Minho isn’t sure where- in fact, he’s not quite sure about anything right now. All he knows is that you’ve sparked something in him, something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. The days of working as a private chef paint vivid memories in his mind, days which he still had passion within him, trying new recipes late through the night and never ceasing to better his methods. A time that now feels one lifetime ago, much more complex in juxtaposition with this new life. Except maybe simple wasn’t the solution all along- for once, he’s determined to bask in all your complexities, even if it means sacrificing everything he left the city to pursue.

“I’m going to the city,” Minho says, combing through his hair with his fingers.

“The city? I thought you hated it there?”

Minho says nothing, sauntering to the door and fishing his car keys out of the drawer by the register.

“Oh, and Jeongin-ah?”

“Yes?”

“Call someone to move that arcade game downstairs.”

“The Pac-Man one? It doesn’t work-”

“It does now,” Minho replies. “Just promise me it’ll be down here when I get back.”

“Sure thing. But- how’d you get it to work?”

And without looking back, Minho approaches the double doors, keys in hand, no particular destination in mind. The gray clouds have nearly cleared up by now, fresh hues of blue painting the vast sky that overlooks the day ahead. The city calls out to him from afar, bustling traffic and busy roads clouded in pollution. But this time, he answers, in hopes you’ll be there, too.

*Part 2 out now, available here.

#stray kids #skz smut #lee minho #lee know #stray kids hard hours #lee know smut #lee know scenarios #skz x reader #skz hard hours #stray kids x you #skz #fanfic #Spotify

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magicalmanhattanproject · 7 months

Text

so i wanna talk about 2b2t, specifically as a backstory for qfit. because the thing is everyone talks about 2b2t as a wasteland and a wreck and a bombed out warzone and like. it sure as hell isn't not that. but it's also a server that people keep on coming to. it's a server that takes pride in actively murdering new members, but it's a server that keeps on having new members

so, what's the draw? what keeps people coming and coming back?

well, the thing about an anarchy server is that it has no rules, be they rules of society or rules of reality

the way i think about 2b2t is that it's a fucked up wonderland. like you know when someone makes a deal with a sinister fairy and it comes true in the worst way for them possible? that's how everything works on 2b.

you want infinite blocks for your builds? sure, the griefers have infinite tnt too. you want infinite totems to stay alive? sure, end crystal pvp means you're gonna need every last one of them. you want fame and fortune for griefing a legendary build? sure, you got a target on your back for the rest of your life though

but the thing is that the metaphorical fucked up fairies are busy. it's down to the individual server members to take care of the double dealing and the double crossing and the wreaking of havoc. and they do! with delight! but they can't* be everywhere at once.

so, you have a chance. you can get lucky. you can get lucky for a while. you can build a nice little life for yourself. you can even get it off the back of tearing other people down if you're quick and you're clever and that's much faster and easier than trying to grind your own resources the vanilla way when every moment is a race against the clock before your base gets found and griefed but you can try and you can do pretty well and you can try again and you can try to get revenge and you can make friends and you can make enemies and you can have everything you ever wanted for the low, low price of everything you ever had and why not pay it when you can just build it all back up again

the other things about 2b2t that i think points to fucked up fairy wonderland instead of standard wartime dystopia is so much of how the server works is really best understood as necromancy-adjacent. so every account is a different person, right? well, some people have a half dozen faces just in case someone finds out where one sleeps. sometimes. there was that one time one guy's shambling corpse** just got reanimated by a completely different guy who took over his identity and no one really minded when they found out

there's an entire population of bots that move and act like players and communicate in all the ways players can barring hte most intimate*** and they literally can't be distinguished from players in most circumstances but they're used as delivery drones so they'll bring you a package and then die in front of you so you can't follow them back to the cache

like this is just!! a thing!!! that people live with!!!!!!!

2b2t has highway unions!! it also has collectives who go around destroying the highways!! there are compassionate souls making community areas!! those areas are griefed to hell and back but not beyond recognizibility!!

it's all just an absolutely fascinating world and it deserves to be explored in how it affects fit's character a lot more than just "ptsd from bombs" even though that's also a massive part of it

*NOCOM notwithstanding

**To be clear bc it wasn't a roleplay bit, the original player is still alive, but he's got no intention of returning to 2b2t so his cubito is definitely dead.

***They can like spam crouch and send messages in chat and you're not gonna want to hop in a vc with a rando from 2b2t

#sorrelposting #qsmp #fitmc #qsmp fitmc

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matrixbearer2024 · 1 month

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Tiny Vox part 2?

Idk if you'll use this but I just want to give it to you.

I kind of headcannon tiny vox the be dumber, because the unprepared small body can't load all his data very well. So I imagine Vox, being stupidly in love, trying the help them when they are doing the dishes or working on their hobby bit he is just making more of a mess and smiling dumbly in love. Like when reader likes to draw heb grabs a random coloured pencil and bring it to them. You know just adorable but unhelpful.

Pocket-sized Partner: VoxPet™️ Care Guide

Tiny!Vox x Reader

A/N: So uhhh- here's a teeny little Headcanon thing while I write the continuation for the VoxPet series because I love smol TV guy. That and I'm starting to slightly feel the burnout, well- I can't tell if that's the right term since I'm starting to look at my ideas and realize that they're starting to lack the coherence and polish they used to. ANYWAY! Here's a Headcanon list for the small guy before I post the continuation for it- so I hope you guys enjoy! Happy reading!

So given Vox's mostly bionic/mechanical biology, it makes sense that he doesn't necessarily regenerate the same as other more organic(flesh-based) sinners.

Instead, he has spare bodies to upload his consciousness and switch into if the one he's using gets damaged and needs repairs or is just not worth saving.

Hence he has a couple spares lying around.

It's just in this instance, the only spare he had left was in a less than desirable condition-

And the others were still broken or just beyond repair.

Having a his brain be it's own practical digital entity also plays into this, I'd think in his paranoia he'd have copies of his own data stored in cloud servers all over the pride ring too.

So it won't be easy should someone try to get rid of him.

Anyway, back to the body switching.

So this new body Vox took is a very underpowered and overutilized little thing.

Imagine running a Skyrim with over a thousand mods on the highest graphics using a 7 year old dell laptop.

Yeah. That's what Vox is currently doing.

The small body is already running at full capacity with his overload of data and it's not even all of it.

Just the basic necessities like his personality and habits.

Like, what make Vox- vox.

Everything else like his schedules, alarms, work, etc.

They're just uploaded to a cloud server with the rest of his complete data.

Oh I forgot to mention, in his haste to make this tiny cute form-

He totally forgot to give it the ability to form even basic speech patterns.

Hence the squeaking and beeping.

He actually can't talk, not that the small body would even have any more processing room if he did do that.

Vox merely figured that you'd probably find some enjoyment anyway in his predicament until the new spare parts arrived and he didn't want to keep moving around dripping coolant and blood accompanied by some sparking wires.

Let's not even mention the cracked screen.

His face being messed up was probably the least of his issues there too.

So you kind of had to take care of him as that small little guy in that hastily put together body.

Also, because it's so underpowered and practically at it's peak use-

Vox can't actually really use his powers much.

Which he didn't realize only until after he flipped out when Velvette and Valentino found him when the staff were panicking from him suddenly going AWOL.

In this tiny body, he only has his generally human memorization skills to recall important things.

Not his flawless computer memory, which was lumped in with the data this body couldn't hold.

He did thank his lucky stars that you weren't so upset about the state he was in though.

You'd often flip the hell out when he got hurt or just had blatant disregard for his own wellbeing.

I mean, when you can switch bodies like the socks on your feet would you be careful too?

I wouldn't, I'd try every single way to die just out of sheer curiosity and boredom-

Anyway, after you got over the initial shock of seeing your boyfriend all plushie sized and everything-

You better bet he got fucking spoiled.

Literally like a chihuahua in a purse moment.

Y'all know those build a bear clothes and accessories?

Yeah no you'd dress Vox up and down in those tiny things and he just couldn't stop you.

He could figure out how to delete all the photos you'd taken when he got back to normal.

But if being treated like a doll was all it took for you to just drown him in kisses and hugs-

You better bet this man would go ahead and pull something like this again.

Plus the compulsion to just aggressively cuddle the life out of him-

Well he's already dead but the point stands.

He can't help but soak up your affection like a thirsty sponge though.

You do eventually realize that he actually has to be plugged in to recharge though.

Plugged in by a port on the back of his teeny head.

What, where did you think he'd put it?

You're glad that Vox tends to leave all sorts of cords of different lengths around your apartment.

Something to do with his work?

You had half a brain to tie him up with those said cords sometimes-

It was irritating at first but after you organized them to keep, at least you didn't dispose of them since you needed them now-

For once the hardware spaghetti was actually useful.

And thank goodness for the long wire, because he'd become extremely clingy after all the attention and affection you'd given him.

Tiny dude was sitting on your lap being pet and coddled while charging.

All while you were reading a book.

Yep. He was a spoiled little shit.

You also realized that he didn't need to eat because of the charging thing-

But he could if he wanted to.

As proven when Vox just took a small part of your meal and slowly ate it.

It wasn't even a full bite for you but it looked comically big in his tiny hands.

He installed a proper digestive system but not a text to speech thing.

Sometimes you wondered if your boyfriend's priorities were a little more wayside that you originally took them for.

He was so cute trying to help you with the dishes though.

Couldn't really do much because of how small he was-

Not to mention the fact you didn't even want to risk any more damage to him since electronics and water are generally not a good mix-

But he tried, and you'd count him being adorable as helpful emotional support anyway.

Even if he really didn't do anything aside from play with the bubbles and smile cutely at you.

If he didn't have an empire and corporation to run you might actually just keep him like this-

Even when you were looking over at some documents his secretary sent over to sign-

You guessed it was because Vel mentioned that Vox was in your care for the time being.

He was wobbling around holding a pen that was probably half his size.

Again cute as hell, but an unhelpful distraction-

Now when you went to sleep?

You plugged Vox in again and just cuddled him against your chest.

The same thing happens when he "sleeps" whether big or in this form anyway.

Screen dims and then his company logo screensaver pops up.

Anyway, I say sleep in quotations because Vox doesn't actually sleep in the conventional sense.

It's just one of the many ways he can physically recharge.

So if he does sleep it's often by choice or because he just passes out.

If he wanted to keep going physically, Vox could just directly connect himself into a power outlet and not ever run out of juice.

Mentally though- it's why he actually needs our version of sleep.

Or periods of system shutdown where he can actually mentally recuperate.

Otherwise he'd be a cracked out delirious mf hyped up on caffeine.

Which he is sometimes regardless.

Either way, you'd pet and cuddle him until he fell asleep before you would also succumb to slumber.

When you woke up though, he somehow ended up cuddling your face.

You had no idea when that even happened.

He greeted you with a happy beep and a heart on his tiny face when you woke up though.

It was probably selfish as hell but now you really wanted to keep him like this just a little longer-

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

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yaksha-lover · 9 months

Text

Wishes of Love

Summary: For Leona’s birthday, you decide to take him out for a date and him something handmade.

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

“I told you, tonight is on me,” you say, tugging him into the restaurant.

The smell of all kinds of delicious grilled meat fills your nose as soon as you enter the restaurant. Based on Leona’s hum of appreciation, you picked the place correctly.

“On you? Have you forgotten I’m a prince? I don’t need anyone to take care of my meals,” he scoffs gently.

“I know you don’t need me to, but I want to anyway. Please? I want to treat you.”

“We’ll see.” Leona rolls his eyes, but it’s mostly just for show.

The server shows you to your table and the two of you take a seat across from each other.

“So, you want to do gifts now or later?”

“Never,” he deadpans.

“Now it is.” You smile at his annoyance, placing a gift bag in front of him. You carried it in from the car, so he’d already known it was coming, but he grumbles about it anyway.

Unwrapping the gift with a wary look, he picks up the dark green scarf you’d crocheted for him. “What the hell is this?”

“A scarf?” You joke, despite the sudden awkwardness you feel. “I made it. I thought you could wear it for your upcoming trip. I know you don’t have many clothes meant for cold weather. You uh- you don’t like it?” you ask. You hadn’t thought he would be jumping with joy, but even this reaction from him was unexpected.

“It’s not that. I told you, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Look, I know it’s probably not of the quality you usually wear, but I thought it could be something special. Sorry, if you really don’t like it I’ll take it back-”

“What, you’re trying to take my gift back now? This is mine,” he says, slipping the scarf around his neck, despite being in the middle of the restaurant and the intense heat of the summer.

“But, Leona-”

“No buts. Keep your grubby herbivore hands off of my scarf.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. Leona never acts straightforward, but you can’t help but enjoy his brand of love.

Despite the strange looks the waiter gives him, Leona refuses to remove the scarf throughout the night. He keeps it snugly wrapped around his neck, one end fashionably thrown behind his back.

The two of you chat lightly throughout the meal, discussing anything and everything. A comfortable silence settles between you as you eat. Leona remains focused on his steak, and you admire how cute he looks so focused on his favourite food.

He speaks suddenly, a few minutes later. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“The trip you mentioned in the north. Falena wants me to go for some diplomatic process, but there’s no reason you can’t come along.”

“I don’t know, Leona…What if your brother is upset? Does he even know you’re seeing someone?”

“Of course he knows about you,” he states bluntly. When he realizes what he’s said, Leona is surprisingly flustered. “I meant, he probably does, I don’t know. Who cares what he thinks?”

“Leona…do you talk about me at home?” you tease him with a cheeky grin.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, ears turned-down.

“You do! You’re so cute,” you laugh.

“Cute?! I’m not cute. You’ll see later tonight, I’m far from the gentle beast you seem to be making me out to be.”

Now it’s your turn to be flustered by his forward words. “Leona, not in public.” You kick him gently under the table.

He snickers at your embarrassment.

You’re tempted to tell the waiter that it’s his birthday so he’ll be forced to suffer the humiliation of having the entire restaurant sing for him, but you know he’ll kill you, so you let him have the last laugh.

In return, he allows you to pay for dinner as you wished. You find out later that he transferred twice the amount of the dinner into your account, but for now you are satisfied at your win. The two of you stand to walk out together, and you hold his hand. Normally he would make a show of complaining about you being clingy, but tonight he releases your hand and wraps his arm around your shoulder instead. It feels safe and warm, being in his arms.

Arriving at the car, he opens the passenger side door for you, motioning for you to get in. The two of you drive home, the radio playing gently in the background. Although the dinner date is technically over, your night with him is only just beginning.

Looking up at the night sky, you silently wish upon a star that you’ll be able to spend many more birthdays with your lion prince.

#happy belated birthday leona 🫶#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar #twst #twisted wonderland

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muwapsturniolo · 3 months

Text

✯Ma Belle Evangeline✯

summary: Black!ballet reader invites the triplets to her recital.

warnings: none besides a couple of pictures of a white girl but I promised I tried to find a picture of a black girl but i couldn't. don't jump me plz.

INSPIRED BY THIS REQUEST! I HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

"Do you think she will like the flowers?" Chris asks swallowing thickly. Nick and Matt roll their eyes for what feels like the thousandth time today. All day Chris has been freaking out.

Why?

Because of Y/N.

The little ballerina made him so nervous and he couldn't figure out why. Every time he was around her he felt this impending sense of doom, but he craved it. In some odd sadistic way, he loved the panic it brought him, how it would make his stomach churn and hard to breathe.

"Chris if you freak out one more time, I'm going to strangle you." Nick snaps as they take their seats. Chris huffs to himself and starts fiddling with his tie. A guy dressed like a server walks around holding out programs. Chris takes one and shows his brothers, "Oh my god they are doing 'Princess and The Frog'! I love that movie!" Nick gasps.

"Look, Y/N is the Prima...what the hell is that?" Chris takes out his phone and looks it up. " it's basically the lead. It says it's usually the best dancer." The boys look at the pamphlet impressed. They knew Y/N was a ballerina, but they didn't know she was that good to be the Prima. Granted they've only known her for two months, but she never bragged about being good.

Soon the lights dim and the boys look towards the stage.

Loud music fills the theatre and that's when they realize there is a live orchestra.

"In the south land, there's a city, way down on the river"

Dancers in different costumes begin to prance around the stage. Of the three boys, Nick is the most entertained. Chris and Matt find it intriguing, but they don't really understand what's going on.

Eventually, the first song ends and the next song starts.

A girl prances out on stage dressed in a brown leotard and tutu. the song picks up and Chris finds himself smiling wide when Y/N joins the girl on stage.

"momma, I don't have time for dancing... that's just gonna have to wait awhile."

Y/N dances elegantly around the stage to the music. her movement fluid and smooth.

The boys watch, happy to see their friend on stage in her element. She's in a yellow leotard and tutu, her hair in a low bun.

Male dancers join the two girls on stage and begin to dance with them, lifting them in the air and doing all types of tricks.

"I'm almost there!"

The spotlight shines on Y/N as she twirls in endless circles before she stops at the exact same time as the music, her form perfect.

The crowd begins to clap and the girl smiles widely as she prances off the stage with the other dancers. "Oh my god Y/N being Tiana is perfect!" Nick excitedly claims as he claps.

Chris couldn't agree more.

The crowd stops clapping and waits for the next part to start.

"Don't you disrespect me, little man!"

Three males suddenly appear on stage. One dressed like a maid, the other a prince, and the last like the Shadowman. Nick bounces in his seat, singing along to the song.

The males move around the stage, their movements enchanting yet exhilarating, matching the vibes of the Shadowman's song perfectly.

"Shake my hand, come on boys won't you shake a poor sinner's hand?"

The drums from the orchestra send vibrations through the audience's bodies. Dancers dressed in black crawl onto the stage, circling the maid and the prince. Following the lyrics, they begin to grab at the prince who looks scared and is trying to get away. They yank at his clothes, pulling him around the stage.

"You can blame my friends on the other side!" the dancers start yanking the prince off stage and the maid chases after them.

The "Shadowman" spins in endless circles before taking a bow.

"Hush!" The lights turn off and you can see the curtain drop. Once again, the crowd applauds.

The production of the performance has been amazing so far.

The costumes, the set design, everything.

The lights turn on, but stay dim as the curtain raises.

"If I were a human being," another male dancer prances onto the stage, dressed in a dark green outfit. Unlike the other dancers, his movements are a bit wonky, signifying the gator named Lewis.

The prince from before joins him, this time in a green suit.

Chris blocks them out until he sees Y/N join them. She's in a green leotard, signifying Tiana's frog form.

He thought the yellow leotard was pretty, but the green just suited her even more.

The trio dances around the stage, all of them dancing in their own styles. It was interesting to see how their dance styles complemented the song.

"When I'm human!"

They all pose and allow the applause to happen before another male comes on stage. His suit a stark difference from the others. Brown with hints of orange and glowing.

" Alright lew lew, let's get to it, darling!"

A country-esque song starts playing, and the original three dancers frown in confusion. More dancers in glowing costumes skip onto stage as the song continues. Y/N and the male dancers join them, mock confusion still on their faces as they jump around on stage.

They are led off stage by one of the dancers as the song ends.

"This is so good, oh my god!" Nick whispers in amazement.

before Matt or Chris can respond,

"look how she light up the sky, Ma Belle Evangline."

Chris feels that same impending doom as Y/N comes onto the stage. Her curls are now down and flowing freely down her back, her skin glowing as the spotlight focuses on her. The slow song continues as she elegantly dances across the stage.

Her eyes are closed as she blissfully moves.

She looks ethereal.

As she dances, it all begins to make sense to Chris.

"I love you, Evangeline."

He has a crush on her.

Chris tunes out the rest of the recital until the end.

It seems like it's the ending dance between the prince and Y/N.

"For the way you changed my plans."

Her dress from before is replaced by an off-white and moss-green one. Her hair up in a high bun as a crown adorns her head, her pointe shoes being a sage green.

Chris feels like the air has been punched out of him as he sees her.

Y/N and the prince dance closely, their bodies touching intimately. The dance is full of love, it brings tears to Nick and Matt's eyes, as well as a few other audience members.

It's like Chris is in a trance as he watches her dance.

"You're the best thing I ever knew I needed," the dancer lifts Y/N up above his head and twirls around.

Chris wishes it was him.

"Now it's so clear, I need you here always"

The two stop dancing and hold each other close, foreheads touching as the music slowly comes to a halt.

Everyone stands up and begins to applaud.

A standing ovation.

Chris whistles and claps the hardest, proud of seeing Y/N dominate the stage.

After final bows and such, the triplets walk behind the stage and wait for Y/N.

"Are you guys Nick, Matt, and Chris? Y/N wanted me to grab you and bring you to her." the boys nod and follow the male in tights behind the doors.

They arrive and see Y/N excitedly talking to another girl. She sees the boys and gasps before hugging them.

"Did you guys enjoy the show?"

She was so excited to see what they thought. She was also a bit nervous since they hadn't seen her dance until now.

"Girl, you were amazing! unbelievable!"

"Yeah, you were great. Everyone was!"

"you looked gorgeous on the stage." Y/N can't help but smile widely at them, her heart beating fast due to Chris's comment.

"I umm... I got you these," he says handing her the bouquet of tulips. Y/N stares at them in awe. "Chris.... they're beautiful! you didn't have to get me flowers." she takes the bouquet with soft eyes. Chris smiles at the look on her face, "Yeah but you deserve them. You were amazing on stage and you look gorgeous."

A shy giggle makes its way from Y/N and she looks away from him.

"let's take pictures!" Nick suggests. The group begins to take pictures with Y/N, group ones first then individual.

When it's Chris's turn, Y/N grabs her bouquet and smiles. Chris places his hands on her waist, gripping her softly.

They stop when another dancer walks up to Matt and Nick and begins talking to them.

"Can I tell you something?" Chris asks softly, his hands fiddling with the edge of her tutu. "yeah, sure."

"I get this impending sense of doom when I'm around you. I thought it was bad, but I craved the feeling. It's like I'm addicted. when you were on stage during your solo, I realized something-" Chris finally looks away from her tutu and at her.

"I realized that impending doom was butterflies in my stomach. You make me so damn nervous and it's crazy because I don't get nervous around most girls, but you just drive me crazy, in a good way. I have only known you for two months but I really like you Y/N."

Chris stares, hopeful the ballerina won't turn him down.

"More than friends."

Y/N feels warmth across her whole body.

She also had a crush on the boy, but she never acted on it afraid he would turn her down. Now here he is, confessing his feelings in such a raw way.

"R-really?" Chris nods and moves a bit closer, his hands wrapping around her waist. Their foreheads touch and his eyes gaze at her lips for a moment.

"Be my Evangeline?"

A wide smile breaks across Y/N's face.

Still in her pointe shoes, she goes up on her toes and pulls Chris into a soft kiss.

"Nick, are you crying?"

"Shut the fuck up Matt, this is too cute, and if you tell anyone I cried I'm killing you in your sleep!"

liked by Y/I/N and 613,285 others....

Christophersturniolo: Ma Belle Evangeline, you're the best thing I never knew I needed✨

comments:

fan1: OH MY FUCKING GOD

fan2: THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE WHO KNEW CHRIS WOULD PULL A GIRL, A BALLERINA AT THAT!!!

Y/I/N: you're gonna make me cry Chris omfg

^Christophersturniolo: I'll be over to kiss them away and watch Princess and the Frog with you

mattsturniolo: nick cried when yall kissed and hes crying again at this post😆

^nicksturniolo: matt sleep with one eye open

fan3: LMAO NOT NICK ACTAULLY BEING A BIG SOFTIE

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

yall this is my fav thing i have written!!! i love princess and the frog sm so i was blasting the soundtrack the whole time when writing this! please let me know what yall think!!

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 4 months

Note

Jack Harlow: “I’m in love with you and I’m not afraid to show it.”

"Jack." You tapped his shoulder to try to get his attention, but Jack just let out a sweet hum, his lips vibrating against yours as he kissed you, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other teasing your bare inner thigh. "Jack, baby." You squeezed his arm, but he wouldn't let up, deepening the kiss, his tongue darting in and out of your mouth. "Jackman."

"I'm a little busy right now." He pulled away momentarily, giving you a quick smile before he was latching onto your neck, leaving such intense, wet kisses on your skin, you were sure you'd have a hickey in the morning.

"Ahem." Jack's head was on a swivel, turning to look around at the waiter who was standing behind him, visibly uncomfortable and trying to avoid eye contact as the two of you were getting hot and heavy in a booth of the dark restaurant. Jack turned back to you, his face turning red. "How long has he been standing there?", he gritted out in a whisper.

"Are you ready to order?" You were trying your hardest not to laugh at the scene, Jack hiding his face in your neck from embarrassment while the waiter looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot. "I think we're gonna need another moment." Your server nodded, backing out to run to another table.

Knowing you were in the clear, Jack was back at it, sucking on your ear lobe as you tried to focus on the menu, his hand getting dangerously close to where it shouldn't be. "Jack." You jerked your head back, Jack chasing after you with his mouth. The two of you had been apart for a couple of weeks, and you were the only thing that had been on his mind the entire time he'd been away. All he wanted to do was take you to bed, but you insisted on having a proper date night, so this was his way of compromising.

He let out a groan when you grabbed at his jawline, scratching his beard with your nails. "What do you wanna eat? Aren't you hungry?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" He smirked, playfully nipping at you, letting out a low growl that only you could hear. His pupils were blown, his cheeks a healthy flush; just the sight of you was turning him on, and he was getting increasingly handsy. Thankfully, you were at the back of the restaurant, and no one could really see you.

"Down, boy." You bit at your bottom lip, teasing him, knowing it would only set him off. You wanted to have a little fun, too.

"Give me like, 10 minutes", he counted in his head, being a bit generous if he was honest, "in the bathroom, and I'll show you how much I missed you." Jack was downright feral, and part of you wanted him to have his way with you, but you also missed spending time with him that didn't include your legs shaking.

You let him get a quick peck on the lips before you pushed him away at the chest, one hand holding him at arms length, barely able to contain the beast as you tried to decide on your entree. "I'm thinking about getting the crab cakes. What about you?" You looked at him and his gaze immediately dropped to your lips, basically salivating.

"What the hell has gotten into you, Jack?" Usually your boyfriend was hyperaware of his surroundings when he was in public, paranoid that he'd run into a crazy fan or the paparazzi when he was with you. Tonight, he was different, completely uninhibited. "What? I’m in love with you and I’m not afraid to show it."

He flashed you those pearly whites and you were almost putty in his hands, but remained strong, shifting in your seat and crossing your legs to contain yourself. Jack scooted closer to you, his hands finding your waist.

"Now if you'd just let me do what I want to...". He overpowered you easily, his mouth finding yours again. You were quickly lost in the passion, forgetting where you were for a second, your hands finding his curls. Jack had a way with his tongue, insanely gifted in more ways than one. You broke away only out of necessity when you needed a breath, Jack's lips red and swollen, his chest heaving as he stared you down. "Let's get out of here." You whispered.

"Check, please!" Jack's fist collided with the table so quickly, and with such force, he knocked over the silverware and glasses of water.

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow fanfic

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daisyychainssj · 7 months

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The day people stop saying they want morally grey characters/villains and then cry and throw up when a character is morally grey/a villain is the day I’ll know peace. Bad who was beloved and trusted by the entire island going off the deep end and lying to basically everyone and kidnapping federation workers is INTERESTING!!!! Foolish has literally said from the start that he’s not as adverse to doing things for the feds as the others he sees this as a game, they’re stuck on the island and after 6 months are no closer to leaving fuck it he’s going to just play both sides for the hell of it. Baghera is keeping important secrets about her past and empathising with federation workers, Jaiden has a very close bond with cucurucho a closer bond (in her opinion) than she has with some of the islanders. Max is becoming a code (maybe idk I can’t wait for him to continue his story) and lying to everyone about what’s really going on. Cellbit accidentally fed info to the feds for weeks. Fit is trying to find data about the islanders and is lying to literally every single person except Ramon. Mouse and Tina are helping foolish snitch on those who were breaking the rules. Like let them be fucked up it would be so boring if everyone on the server was a golden boy hero! yaaaaawn. Obviously we’re allowed to discuss their characters and share opinions and critiques but I wish people would stop freaking out any time a character makes a choice that’s not like the perfect and most morally correct one ya know. Let’s just all enjoy our cubitos being a bit fucked up but we love them anyway 🫶🏻

#qsmp #qsmp liveblogging

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rainbowchaox · 8 months

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QSMP! Missa Character Analysis and How it Relates To Pissa

This is like the twin post to the Philza character analysis and how it relates to pissa. If anyone wants to know about how QSMP! Philza as a character and how that relates to pissa. I recommend checking out that post. Everyone really loved that post so I wanted to do a twin post of sorts focusing on our favorite wet cat Missa. Special thanks to @pepper-mintzyy my fandom demon on my shoulder.

Now I was personally introduced to him in Qsmp so I have no prior knowledge about any lore or character traits he had in other series. So I’m just getting my analysis only from Qsmp! Missa. Missa at his core is kind. I would even say too kind at times. He easily believes and forgives those he shouldn’t. He is kind to everyone. Everyone but himself.

Missa is also primarily driven by his emotions. Not in a bad way. His emotions just bleed out like Ink for better or for worse. Unlike Phil his emotions are the primarily driving force behind his actions. And this isn’t a bad thing. Of course Missa will find Phil more logical and calm approach to things comforting and attractive. Phil is a calm balm and his security blanket. Missa always feels safe with Philza.

Missa also has some baggage from his first week or so involving Spreen and Roier. He had no clue what was actually was happening. And he didn’t want to choose between them. This led to them both leaving him by himself. So of course he was a tad depressed before meeting Phil. And you could say he fell instantly.

Phil was his opposite in a good way. But both are similar when it mattered. Phil is honest, kind, spoils the heck out of Missa, and just cared so much. So of course Missa fell for the man instantly. I’m 100% sure the first day they got chayanne is when Missa began crushing hard on his government assigned husband.

Sadly the fact about Missa as a character is despite being surrounded by his family and husband that cares so much about him and literally will kill anyone that hurts him emotionally or physically (looking at you chayanne numero uno shipper and protector of the pissa nation). He still believes he is unworthy of them. Despite them loving Missa just the way he is. He doesn’t realize he doesn’t have to change or impress.

He is a tangle of insecurities. Any mistake he does is the worst thing. Any criticism he receives is the truth. He loves Phil and his family so he wants to be better for them. He wants to be one they can rely on when things get rough. He wants to protect them even if he isn’t the best at things. He wants to try. And I think Phil loves that about him.

Like I previously said up above. Phil and Missa are opposites but similar in the way it matters. Both Missa and Phil are loyal to a fault. The only other loyal as hell pair in the server is the actual canon married couple. They both also want the best for their family and they both love so deeply. They both just want each other and their family to be safe.

But also Philza only feels safe with Missa. Philza main trait is his paranoia but when Phil is with Missa it’s like the things previous that worried him is nothing next to Missa. Missa is Philza comfort. Philza adores Missa and how comforting and sweet he is. And of course Missa who is emotional (will sob at anything and everything) fell in love first. But like I said in the Philza post. Philza adores him as much as Missa adores him. He just doesn’t verbalize it.

Meanwhile Missa would gladly scream he loves philza from the mountain tops of Philza was okay with that. He would gladly call Philza attractive and the best if he didn’t fear coming on too strong or making his beloved uncomfortable. (We already talked in length about why Philza isn’t used to being vulnerable and fully admitting he loves Missa in the Philza post).

Unlike a certain Brazilian Missa will never even dare think of taking away Philza agency. He loves Philza because he is Philza. And Missa is so kind that despite his love for the man if Philza ever rejects him he would accept. In fact he has kept most of his affections a secret because he doesn’t want to make philza uncomfortable. The fact is everyone can see the two of them are in love but them.

But we all know the truth. Phil adores Missa with his whole heart. He loves Missa so much. And I do think Missa knows on some level. But he doesn’t want to push the issue. Again because he is so kind and understanding. At the moment he is just happy to be in Phil’s presence. Whether it’s under a charade of a platonic marriage or not. He is just happy to be with Phil. And others may say he is not the best for Phil and his family because he was gone for so long. But the fact is Missa never stopped tying to come back home. He was literally kidnapped for months. And the only reason he went out in the first place was to get Phil a gift. And Phil knows this so of course he stayed loyal and accepted him back no hesitation. Missa always will love Phil. Even if Philza doesn’t love him back. And isn’t true love when you don’t expect it be returned and you love him anyways? (Philza loves him so much. It’s just too dangerous to say it. But Philza wants to so badly)

#pissa #Deathduo #shipping #Qsmp #Yes im a bit invested into this ship #hope ya enjoyed this one as well :DD I had too much fun #I love my wet cat father your honor.#qsmp missa #major thanks to pepper and their discord for handing my delulu levels.#pissa newspaper

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goddessofroyalty · 2 months

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Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji

Tags: omegaverse, discussed-future-mpreg

Someone shared a bit of non-omegaverse art in the ZoSan server of Zoro showering affection on Sanji’s stomach and it inspired me to write them talking about their future child in a verse where they agreed no pups until after they and Luffy achieve their dreams.

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

Sanji lets out a huff as Zoro lays his head down against his stomach, one of the swordsman’s callused hands resting against what might one day become the peak of it as the other supports Sanji’s back as he enjoys his cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke out over the alpha’s head. The break in Sanji’s heat is nice even if they both know it will only last for a moment.

“There isn’t anything in there moss,” Sanji says as Zoro’s thumb tickles against his skin. The necessary steps have been taken to ensure that for all their fucking no pup will result from this heat.

“I know,” Zoro grunts, twisting his head and pressing a kiss against Sanji’s hip bone.

“Once Luffy’s the Pirate King and I’m the world’s greatest swordsman and we’re living on your ocean,” Zoro continues, trailing kisses along Sanji’s hips as he recites the dreams they swore to achieve. “You’ll give me pups then right?”

“I didn’t realise we agreed to pups plural?” Sanji jokes, more to try and keep himself from giving into the fantasy of it.

“You know I could never be satisfied with just one. Not when it’s with you.” Zoro says, resting his forehead directly onto Sanji’s stomach, leaving him looking almost as if he’s praying over it. “You’ll even let some get my green hair right? And they’ll all get your eyebrows.”

Sanji doesn’t know the last time he heard Zoro that excited. It reminds him of the headstrong alpha second in command on the pirate crew he decided to throw his lot into who had matured into his steadfast mate.

“Maybe if you’re lucky.” Sanji hopes they do inherit the alpha’s hair. Oh he’ll bitch about it when it happens. Can’t let the mosshead’s ego get too large. But he now can’t think about his future children without at least one of them having coarse green hair and a stubborn attitude.

Zoro grins up at him.

“You will,” Zoro says, ducking his head back down to press a kiss against Sanji’s stomach, his hands grabbing at the omega’s hips. “You’re gonna’ look so fucking hot while you’re growing them as well.”

Sanji does laugh at that.

“I’m going to look like a waddling land-whale.” He doesn’t have the delicate curves of a lady which are only accentuated by pregnancy. Lacks their soft plump skin that glows with the life they are carrying.

Zoro snorts at that.

“You will not,” he says with a nip at Sanji’s hip. “You are going to look so good. So strong. Fuck I don’t know how I’m gonna’ keep my hands off you. All full with my pup. Hell I’ll fuck another one into you before you’re even finished growing the first.”

“That’s-“ Impossible. And the idea of having pregnancies that overlap giving his body no time without one of Zoro’s children growing in him should be almost repulsive. Sanji is going to blame his heat for the fact he finds it weirdly insanely hot.

“You’ll be great with them,” Zoro continues, uncaring of Sanji’s broken-off attempt at interruption. One of his hands coming up to grope at Sanji’s chest. “Gonna’ be feeding them from the moment they’re born. They won’t know shit food until they move out to take the world for themselves.”

Of course they will. No matter what they decide their dream to be their children are bound to achieve it. Will have grown up learning from the best in so many fields. Never once doubting on their parents support for them.

“Moss-“ Sanji says, running a hand through Zoro’s hair. He can feel his heat stir back to life under his skin and he’s pretty sure it’s affecting the alpha too.

“Shit. I’m going to fuck you so good. Fill you with knot and my pups. Our strong healthy pups,” Zoro continues to babble.

Strong pups that will be trained by the world’s greatest swordsman and fed on the abundance of fish in the All Blue. Who will never know real hunger and know that love and care is as important as training at being your best. Will learn to cook at Sanji’s side and take afternoon naps with Zoro.

“Fuck – I need you to shut up now,” Sanji says, his grip on Zoro’s hair tugging the alpha up off him.

Zoro gives a questioning hum like he isn’t aware of what he’s fucking doing.

Sanji pulls him up by the hair for a kiss before he can open his stupid mouth again.

“You need to shut the fuck up and fuck me,” Sanji orders. Because if the bastard keeps going Sanji might not be able to stay strong on their agreement that they weren’t going to have pups until all their dreams were achieved.

Zoro grins at him like he knows but his hands grab at Sanji’s thighs as he does as he’s commanded.

#One Piece #ZoSan #roronoa zoro #zoro x sanji #vinsmoke sanji #blackleg sanji #omegaverse #One Piece omegaverse #mpreg #One Piece mpreg #black leg sanji #I accidenly a ficlet

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strwbrryeyes · 10 days

Note

tsuki and reader who loves video games :3 whenever reader finds a new game, they always talk about it to tsuki and have him try it with them at least once!! if tsuki likes the game, reader considers it a huge win; although tsuki doesn’t play a lot, if he sees reader playing a game he likes, he’ll sit with them and play for a bit <3

𖦹°｡⋆ Actually not boring (tsukishima x reader)

⟡ cw: no pronouns used i think, fluff, a little cussing, not proofread, lmk if i missed anything.

⟡ a/n: i kind of went off prompt i'm sorry </3 i just could only see tsukishima acting like this asdfghjkl hope you like it anyway but also i'm sorry if its bad im still getting used to writing again! alsosorryhinata-

“What the hell are you doing?” Tsukishima asks as he walks into your shared bedroom to see you at your new light blue and white PC setup. You turn around in your chair to face him with a bright smile on your face.

“I’m playing on Kenma’s new Minecraft smp!” you excitedly say to him as you pull him down to your level to show him how Kenma, Hinata, Kuroo, and Bokuto’s characters are all standing around the spawn area.

“Seems boring,” your boyfriend squints his eyes as he looks at everyone’s skins “what in the world is Bokuto’s avatar? it looks ug-”

“Isn’t handsome?! Just like me!” A loud screech from Bokuto comes through your headphones and cuts off Tsukishima and bursts your eardrum as you forgot to mute your mic and deafen. Tsukishima groans and rolls his eyes before grabbing your mic from your desk to bring it up to his face.

“No but it is ugly like you.” Tsukishima says into the mic causing Bokuto to shout and hit your character as if it was Tsukishima but you punch him back to get him to back off. After that small distraction, you deafen yourself and turn to look back your boyfriend.

“Jeez, thanks babe, now my ears are bleeding,” you glare at him and he scoffs shaking his head, “Why don’t you play with us? I’m sure you’ll have fun!” you change the subject to try to convince Tsukishima to play with the group but all he does is plop on the bed on the otherside of the bedroom.

“Minecraft is boring and childish, we went over this when you tried making me play with you last month.” Tsukishima says in a monotone voice as he scrunches his face.

“But this time it’s mod-”

“Nope, don’t care you can’t convince me.” He cuts you off not even giving you a chance to finish what you were saying making you let out a huff and turn back to your PC.

What you were trying to explain before you were rudely interrupted, was that it was a modded Minecraft server with a bunch of different tech, magic, and animal mods and that you really thought he would enjoy it since some of the mobs that were added to the game were different types of dinosaurs you could tame and ride. You shake it off not caring enough to try to convince him again for now.

After about an hour and a half, you and Tsukishima are still in the same spots as before doing your own thing while talking to each other occasionally. The both of you had ordered dinner since neither of you were really up to cook or go out so Tsukishima had paid for the food so long as you agreed to go down the the apartment complex lobby to pick it up from the delivery driver.

“Babe, food is almost here you can go down to the lobby now.” Tsukishima told you making you groan out of annoyance because you were working on a tech project with Hinata on the server and didn’t want to leave him alone for the fear that Hinata may break something important (he isn’t very good with minecraft mods).

Regardless, you deafened your headset after telling Hinata you would be right back and to not touch anything before standing up from your seat and turned to face your boyfriend “Okay, I’ll go get the food but can you come sit here and make sure Hinata doesn’t touch anything?” you asked Tsukishima with puppydog eyes and a pout that he couldn’t resist so all he did was sigh and sit at your desk like he was told, making you happy and then off you went to get the food.

After you left, Tsukishima didn’t pay much attention to your computer screen since Hinata had told everyone in the game chat that he was going AFK to go to the bathroom and after knowing Hinata after all these years, Tsukishima knew Hinata would be in there for a while so Tsukishima was just scrolling through his phone until he saw movement on your screen in the background. He figured Hinata had come back from the bathroom but it hasn’t even been that long so he took it upon himself to fully look at the screen and what he saw was Bokuto and Kuroo running around what seems to be your base. At first, Tsukishima wasn’t too worried but still kept an eye on them incase they did something stupid because if they did and you came back to something being wrong, you would blame him for not stopping it. Nothing was out of the ordinary until the two avatars came back into frame with a…dinosaur? Tsukishima couldn’t really process what was happening except for the fact that these two bafoons were dragging a large mob that was named ‘Kei’ with a lead and away from your base. Confused and annoyed Tsukishima picked up your headset and undeafend it to hear what Kuroo and Bokuto were saying in proximity chat.

“Bro, they’re going to kill us!” Bokuto sounds worried as he follows Kuroo around.

“They’re AFK she won’t even know it was us, she’ll just think Shoyo did it!” Kuroo quietly shouts as if he didn’t want other people to hear. ‘What an idiot’ Tsukishima thought before unmuting the mic.

“What do you think you dumbasses are doing?” Tsukishima says seriosuly into the mic causing the two to stop dead in their tracks.

“Kuroo made me do it!” Bokuto finally yells into his mic before running away into the distance leaving Kuroo behind.

“Listen, Tsukishima, you don’t have to tell [name],” Kuroo says nervously as he unleads the dinosaur “I’ll just leave it here an-” Kuroo is cut off by Tsukishima running towards him with a sword but is slowed down when he runs out of hunger giving Tsukishima the leverage to kill Kuroo.

Now that those two ‘idiots’ were gone, Tsukishima took it upon himself to inspect the mob that looks like a dinosaur. He smirked at the fact that it was named after him, thinking it was cute and also mounted it with a saddle to he could ride it a bit.

A few more minutes go by and Tsukishima is still playing around with all the mobs you have already found in the short time you have been playing and was (un)surprisngly amused, so amused that he forgot that you weren’t even in the apartment until he heard the door to the bedroom open,

“Sorry I took so long, I had to talk to the front desk about a package that I was supposed to get…” You walk on saying but got quieter when you saw your boyfriend flying in the sky on a dragon. Tsukishima didn’t even want to turn around because then you would see that his face is red from embarrassment so he just kept flying in circles until you forcibly turned the chair around to make him look at you with a smirk plastered on your face. “Whatcha doin there, my love?” You smugly ask him as he struggles to find the words to say.

“I uh- I um stopped Bokuto and Kuroo from stealing your pet!” Was all your flustered boyfriend managed to say. It wasn’t often Tsukishima would get flustered like this but everytime he did, you would soak it in to make sure you never forgot it so naturally, you took a picture.

The picture snapped him out of his embarrassed state to glare at you but witht hat shit eating grin on your face, he knew he had no choice of redemption so he caved and told you everything that happened with annoyance but excitement in his voice.

“Oh! I also got you this giant wolf looking thing! It was right outside your base and I thought you might want it!” Tsukishima exclaims like a child as you sit ontop of his lap giggling as he showed you things he thought were cool after he was adamant not hearing you out on how he should play on the server too.

“Kei, my love, your PC is right next to mine,” you manage to let out between giggle as you point to Tsukishima’s barely used computer set up that he sometimes used for work and to occasionally play other video games with you “Why don’t you just play with all of us? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind!” you once again ask him to join the server but all he responds with is a sigh and a look that automatically says no.

“They’re going to make fun of me for being a nerd!” Tsukishima ends up pouting not being able to stay seriously annoyed at you for too much longer and all you can let out is a single ‘Ha!’ before kissing his forehead.

“They aren’t going to make fun of you! They’re just as big of nerds as you are! Kenma is literally working with a magic mod while Kuroo is making a rocket to go to the moon with Bokuto while me and Hinata are making an automatic cooking station so we can open our own restaurant!” You explain to Tsukishima, telling him more about the different kinds of mods that are on the server which only intrigues him even more making him agree to play on the server on the condition that you two make another base further away from everyone else so no one could bother him too much which you agreed to.

Before setting up everything Tsukishima needed to download on his own computer, you both travelled a couple thousand blocks and found the perfect biome to start your modded minecraft journey together and moved all of your belongings and pets there so you wouldn’t have to go back and forth. Once everything was moved to your new area, the both of you logged off for the night to go eat your now cold dinner and agreed that you would play more tomorrow night and that you would both learn what each mod does before focusing on one specific mod.

Tsukishima wouldn’t show it, but he was actually extremely excited to play on this server with you and his high school friends since he never really got to see them anymore and wanted an activity to bond over with you. He was happy and he has you to thank.

BONUS:

~Half an hour after you and Tsukishima logged off: Hinata Shoyo’s apartment~

Hinata groans as he leaves the bathroom walking back to his desk, muttering something about how he shouldn’t have eaten that much mac and cheese.

As he sits back down and exits the menu/paused screen of minecraft Hinata is left speechless as he looks around him and sees that mostly everything that was once there is gone except for a few of his own chests and a few signs that you left behind that read ‘Sorry Shoyo, Tsukishima is making me live with him now’ ‘We can still work on the restaurant but we cant be roommates </3 - [name]’ Hinata sighs as he finishes reading the signs and starts to walk away to go find someone else to hang out with until he sees another sign a few blocks away that says ‘haha loser - tsukishima’ and at that point Hinata just decides to log off.

#𖦹°｡⋆ 𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾 #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader fluff #tsukishima kei x reader fluff

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rookthorne · 27 days

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

With little else to do during the busy festive period, you made your way to Howlie’s Gym, the place you made a home away from home and where you know your best friend made your haven safe.

What you did not expect to find, however, was him in the office with the brightest smile on his face — as though you hung the moon that shone down over the two of you.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ❥ Personal Trainer!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ❥ 1.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ❥ Fluff, pining (so much of it), slight angst (self doubt) ჻჻჻ TROPES: Best friends to lovers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ❥ Do you see that trope? 👀 ❥ A very special thank you to my discord server and the poll I made for helping me decide on the new additions to this AU. 🥰

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ❥ Someone To You by BANNER

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ❥ @sweetspicybingo Sweetheart Bingo — Cloud Nine — Masterlist ❥ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Flurries of snow danced in your vision as they fell to the pavement ahead of where you were walking, your gym bag over your shoulder and a warm, winter coat bundled around your torso to protect you from the cold.

The headphones tucked over your ears doubled as muffs to keep the chill away, as well as playing tunes to block out the sounds of the world as you made your way to Howlie’s Gym, your home away from home.

It was close to Christmas — only a couple more days left before the big day would arrive, whether you liked it or not.

The holidays, while festive and sweet, tended to be on the lonelier side of the spectrum. There was no one for you to spend the day with; not the way you so badly yearned for — of which felt unobtainable. As far away as the stars twinkling in the sky above you, winking and dancing with the snow that fell.

Thoughts swirled and sent a pang of pain through your heart the closer you came to the lit-up gym.

You longed for the one man you had grown close with, the trainer that had dedicated all of his spare time to your regimes, and the very same one that seemed to care beyond all others about your wellbeing.

Over the short time you had gotten to know Bucky, you had grown inexplicably close with the brunette. It was overwhelming to reminisce on what he said during one of the last sessions — the words echoed in your mind when the front door of the gym came into view: “You are one hell of a woman, and I’ll be damned if I see you putting yourself down anymore.”

Never before had someone been so deeply invested in you, and you could only hope that it meant something; perhaps a Christmas miracle was around the corner.

The song changed just as you reached the doors, and you pushed them open with a flourish as you danced on the spot. Not a single soul was in sight and that itself was such a rare occurrence, you couldn’t help but grin happily — a peaceful workout without any gym rats or try-hards ruining your vibe and concentration.

You hummed, singing along to the song as the lyrics picked up tempo. “I wanna be somebody to someone, someone to you–”

“Bubba?”

“Ah!” A muffled squeak caught in your throat, and you whirled around, looking for the source of the voice that had been so close, and who you could have sworn was Bucky himself. “Oh– Oh, hi,” you said as you found the culprit.

Bucky smiled broadly from the office doorway. “Hey, you,” he said softly. “What’re you doing here–? It’s Christmas, isn’t it?”

The gym bag over your shoulder rustled as you shook it. “Well, I don’t have anything else to do, I guess.”

“So you decided to come and keep me company, huh?” he teased, walking towards you. The grey, long-sleeve compression shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide his physique, and his loose hair fell down to his shoulders. Even the navy sweats he wore hugged his body, his thighs impressively stretching the fabric well beyond what was reasonable.

It was either that, or he purposefully decided to wear smaller sized clothes, you reasoned — not that you were complaining, not in the slightest.

“Doll?”

You startled and blinked. “What? Oh! Uh–” Smooth going, you inwardly chastised yourself.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “You dork—c’mon, I can help you set up.”

“Right,” you said, nodding once. “Thanks.”

The two of you made your way over to the first piece of equipment in your regime, and Bucky kindly set it up for you, his tongue between his teeth as he put the correct weights on the bar.

“So what are you doing all on your own?” you asked, placing your bag down on a weight bench. Bucky glanced at you, then concentrated back on the equipment. “I mean—like, I thought Howlie’s was closed so close to the holidays, I had to search and make sure you guys were actually open.”

“Like you,” he grunted as he lifted the last weight, and the muscles of his forearms tensed while he manipulated it into place. “I also don’t have anythin’ else to do, so I figured, why not?” He shrugged and stepped back from the equipment, a small smile on his lips. “Can’t hurt to catch up on paperwork or get a head start on the shit for next year.”

“Fair, fair,” you replied. A flood of courage began to flow, and you squared your shoulders — intent on at least trying. “I, uh– Do you want to, um–”

“Do I wanna ‘hang’ with you?” Bucky offered; a brow raised inquisitively. A cheeky smirk pulled the corner of his lips up. “Is that what you’re askin’?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, and you scratched the back of your neck. It suddenly seemed foolish to have spoken up, and the courage soured to shame faster than the blink of an eye. “I mean, you don’t have to– You know what, never mind, I know you have more important–”

“Shut up, Bubba,” Bucky laughed, and you gaped at him, which made him laugh harder. “You’re fuckin’ adorable—‘course I’ll hang with my girl. Just let me finish what I was doing and I’m all yours.”

He walked off, a pep in his step, and you were left there floundering and completely dumbfounded by his choice of words.

“My girl,” he said — surely you imagined that? “I’m all yours,” he promised — you had to be dreaming.

Before you could shake yourself from your reverie, Bucky was already walking back towards you, and he tilted his head; eyes filled with sudden concern. “Doll? You alright–? What’s wrong? You seem out of it tonight.”

“N–Nothing,” you rushed. “I just–” You could not help the falter in your voice when Bucky stepped closer, his face suddenly so damned close to yours.

“Talk to me, Bubba—you’re worrying me, if I’m bein’ honest. What’s up?”

His concern warmed your heart, but you couldn’t help but feel the urge to tilt your head and meet his lips in a kiss.

You pushed that urge down as far as you could, determined to ignore it and force the heat crawling up your neck to stop, too. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise, Buck—I swear. It’s just Christmas… it’s a strange time of year for me, I’m– Well, I’m alone.”

A slight frown pulled the corner of his lips down, and you found you couldn’t stand it.

“I–”

“No, no, I understand,” Bucky said softly. “Me too.”

“Really?” you blurted before you could stop yourself. “I mean, you?”

“Yes, me.” There was a slight tremor to his voice. “Well, I have my boys—and girl, but–” At your widened eyes, he quickly amended with, “My dogs, I mean. I have a couple of dogs, who are currently lazing around back home.”

“Oh! Oh my– Can I see a photo?” you rushed, giddy with excitement. “I love dogs!”

Bucky grinned and pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen alight with a photo of three dogs, side by side. They were huge, but all smiles for the camera — you suspected there were treats offered for that kind of brightness in their faces.

You could immediately tell that one was a Golden Retriever, the creamy coat a dead giveaway, and the largest of the three was a black and white Great Dane. The third dog, however, you couldn’t place, but they were just as cute with a reddish-brown coat of short fur.

“They’re so fluffing adorable, Buck,” you gushed.

He put his phone back into his pocket, mumbling, “Thanks—they’re great running buddies, when they want to fuckin’ behave, that is.”

Somehow, the mention of Bucky’s companions back home soothed the nerves in you, and the two of you comfortably started your sets, content to complete a few reps in silence — bar your grunts and groans of effort, while Bucky was as silent as a mouse. Damn him, you thought.

After several reps, you grunted loudly and placed the weights back on the bar, panting for air. “How the fuck do you stay so quiet?” you demanded of Bucky, staring at him while he sat up on the bench.

There was an arrogant, charming smile on his lips. “Practice, doll. You’ll get there.”

Silence followed his proclamation, and you slumped back against the equipment.

The endorphins from the workout coursed through you, and that same sense of courage surged like a fire, burning through your reservations and inhibitions faster than a match to gunpowder — too many pirate movies, you thought privately.

“Bucky,” you said tentatively, and you licked your lips, tasting the sweat from your workout. “I want to ask you something…”

“Oh?” He shuffled up the bench to sit closer to you. His elbows rested on his knees, and his arms hung between his thighs; you couldn’t help but greedily drink in the sight of the stray strands of hair plastered to his forehead from his own workout. “Lemme guess, does it have something to do with Christmas?”

“Not exactly.”

“Okay,” he said, and he looked at you expectantly. The tip of his tongue ran over his lips. “What is it?”

The words lodged in your throat, and your mouth worked uselessly to free them, but it didn’t work. You let out a groan of frustration. “I– God, why is this so hard?”

Something flashed in Bucky’s bright eyes, the blue of them deepening to an ocean hue. “I happen to be very good at reading people, sweetheart,” he said, and you froze — a deer in headlights as you stared at him. “And if I’m wrong, feel free to put an end to whatever we have, but–” He cleared his throat and fidgeted a little.

A beat of silence passed where you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

“But I can’t help but feel something, between us, I mean. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“How the fuck did you know?” you whispered, awestruck.

Bucky’s shoulders slumped in apparent relief. “Your heart eyes aren’t exactly subtle, doll.”

Shit, you silently cursed.

“Now that I know what you wanna ask me, I think I might help you out,” he offered gently, “what d’you say?”

Unable to find the words while Christmas carols played over the speakers that lined the ceiling — the volume so quiet you almost had to strain to pick it up over the thumping beat of your heart in your ears — you nodded.

“Alright then,” Bucky said, and he stood up to walk over to you. He reached for your hands, and you offered them — the warmth of his hands shocked you, but not as badly as when he kissed the back of your left hand, then the right. “Bubba, my girl, and my best friend…” His lips pulled up into a smile, the brightest you’d ever seen. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Before you could even consider his words, your mouth moved faster than your mind and you blurted, “As long as you bring your dogs.”

A bark of laughter split the tension, and you hugged Bucky tight, not caring about standing in the middle of his gym, shaking like a leaf from the giddy happiness and surprise.

Christmas miracles were, in fact, real, you decided.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #rookthorne's works

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little-pondhead · 23 days

Text

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

#dpxdc #pondhead writes #the folly of men fic #no beta we die like danny #long post #really long post #I asked myself how many titles i can give people and my hands took that as a challenge #the reason undergrowth and vortex go by those weird ass names is because the words for their name don't exist in the dc world #add that to ghost speech and basically it's easier to give themselves a title over the centuries #clockwork is just dramatic

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