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covenofagatha · 5 days ago

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Practice makes perfect

Agatha makes you build up your stamina until she actually lets you fuck her

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: g!p reader, virgin!reader, sex, age gap, fleshlight, degradation, humiliation kink, Agatha is MEAN and reader very much gets off on it, premature ejaculation, masturbation, reader is a walking HR violation, cumming in pants

When Agatha Harkness finds out you’re a virgin, she actually laughs.

You’re a junior in college interning at your dad’s multi-billion dollar company over the summer, a nepo-baby at its finest, and so what if you have the hots for the general counsel? So what if you get hard every single time she even looks in your direction?

You try to flirt with her, you’re as bold as you can be without her going straight to HR, and yet she barely even gives you the time of day. Deep down, you can tell she likes you though. She humors you and doesn’t tell you to shut up whenever you start to talk, so that must mean something. The two of you have formed quite the relationship since the summer started, with you saying the filthiest things to her and her brushing them off as if they were casual anecdotes.

“I’d make you feel so good, Agatha,” you tell her one day. “I’ll fill you up so nicely.”

It might be pushing the limits — it’s your third pathetic attempt this day at getting her to reciprocate, but she’s used to it by now; it hardly even fazes her. Everyone in the office knows that their boss’s daughter has a cock, and they also know that their boss’s daughter has a filthy mouth, always saying something vulgar and sarcastic. No one takes anything that comes from your lips as serious. You’ve been called a spoiled, entitled, rich bitch, told that you’re heartless for not giving a damn about anything, expelled from three high schools for the explicit jokes that you make.

But your “jokes” to Agatha are the only thing you’re serious about.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes; at twenty-five years your senior, she has had plenty of experience with girls that promise her the world and barely deliver on any said promises made. “I’m not some quick college lay that lets you rub my upper thigh and pretends that you’ve found my clit, you know.”

It’s your turn to scowl. “Who do you think I am?” you ask and she fixes you with a pointed glare from behind her desk. “I know where the clit is.”

“How many women have you actually satisfied?” she asks and your cheeks heat up. You figured it would come up eventually, but now you don’t actually want to answer. You duck your head and Agatha makes a noise, not exactly surprised, but almost disappointed. “You think I’m going to let a virgin fuck me? You probably wouldn’t even last two seconds inside me.”

“Hey, I’d last longer than that,” you snap, your head shooting back up to look at her incredulously. You can feel a slight stirring in your lower stomach at the thought of blowing your load the instant she gets inside you and how she would most definitely mock you for it.

Agatha raises an eyebrow and chuckles cruelly. “Honey, please. Go back to your desk and get your work done. I’m definitely not having sex with someone who can’t finish reading over a simple contract.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, and she makes a face at you before you get up out of the chair in front of her desk you were lounging in. “Might have to go to the bathroom real quick and jerk one off though.”

She crinkles her nose and waves her hand at you dismissively and you think that you’ve just blown all your chances with her. She’s definitely not going to want to fuck you now. There is some speculation floating around about your lack of experience and that’s why you overcompensate with the explicit things you say — libel you tell them, but deep down it’s accurate — and if Agatha, who has certainly had her fair share of partners, knows it’s real, then she for sure won’t waste her time with you.

So you go back to your desk and begrudgingly get all your work done, emailing Agatha your thoughts about the contracts when you’re all done. She sends back a Very good job, y/n and you hate to admit that it gets you hard. You’d like nothing more than to go fuck yourself in the restroom but you stay at your cubicle until Agatha walks by so you can see her before she leaves for the day.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you call after her as she breezes by your desk without saying a word. It’s the last day of the third fiscal quarter today, and as a reward, tomorrow your dad is bringing his executive staff to your beach house in The Hamptons for a week. Because you’re part of the family, you get to attend, but none of the other interns do.

It’s been this way since you were little, but only recently did you start to notice how attractive Agatha was. The way she takes absolutely no shit from anyone, even from your dad. The way she coolly holds her ground in the face of IRS audits, FBI raids, and anything else that got thrown at her. The way she raises an eyebrow at you when you say something stupid and it makes your cock hard in seconds. Everything about her drives you fucking wild.

Agatha lifts a hand up in response, not even bothering to look over her shoulder at you, and your pants tighten almost uncomfortably.

The second you get back to your apartment, you undo your belt and unzip your pants, reaching inside to take out your hard and leaking cock. Your hips thrust forward at the warmth from your hand and you gasp, the pleasure already dizzying. You think about Agatha on her knees in front of you, looking up at you through her glasses, telling you that you’re just a pathetic slut who will never be able to make her feel good.

It takes three strokes of your hand before you grunt and your cock pumps out three long spurts of cum all over the kitchen counter. You grab a paper towel, dampen it, and then wipe up your mess before going to take a shower.

You might have a serious problem.

And it’s only going to get worse this week. An entire seven days where you’re going to be around her. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’re going to be hard for most of it. Is there a record for the most times a person has cum in a day? Because you think you might break it.

That night, you have a dream about Agatha, as many of your dreams are. She’s sitting in a chair right by the bed, legs outstretched and open and her feet are resting on the duvet. You’re laying stomach-down, cock hard between your body and the covers, mouth watering. Agatha is completely naked, her cunt glistening, and the dream is so realistic that you can smell her. She laughs when you groan pitifully.

Then she buries two fingers inside her and your hips lurch against the bed, gasping at the stimulation on your cock.

“Look at you, humping the bed like a bitch in heat,” she snarls and your rhythm stutters. You garble out something incoherently and she laughs before rubbing her clit with her other hand. “Can’t even fuck me right, so I have to do it myself.”

You moan loudly, grinding against the bed furiously, and she picks up her thrusts to match your face. “I can, please, I want to,” you beg before she cums all over her fingers. She pulls them out of her and then slides them into your mouth and you cum all over the bed and your stomach.

When you jerk awake right after that, the first thing you notice is how sticky you are. You must have cum in your underwear from just your dream and it’s just further evidence of how completely fucked you are for the next week.

There will certainly be no swimming for you because you don’t need the entire executive board and your father knowing that you’re getting hard for the forty-six year old general counsel.

But fuck, Agatha in a swim suit —

You cut yourself off from the thought because you don’t have enough time to get worked up again.

Good thing too, because by the time you do get yourself all cleaned up from your little nighttime accident, you have to leave to get to the helicopters.

There’s no sign of Agatha yet so you make awkward small talk with Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, because you have nothing better to do. She’s new and attractive, but no one gets your cock stirring like Agatha. You wonder if it’s the fact that she’s older and it taps into your mommy issues, or the fact that she can cut you down with a simple sentence and you’ve found that you have a huge thing for degradation, or the fact that she’s never going to let you touch her no matter how hard you beg.

She drives you crazy and you fucking need her.

Finally, Agatha pulls up in a company car and gets out, wearing a gray pantsuit, and you already feel your face heating up. She gets into one of the two helicopters without even looking at you and you make a beeline for it before your dad stops you and pulls you into the other one. You can’t exactly tell him that you want to be next to his general counsel, so you grumble to yourself before agreeing.

It takes only about forty-five minutes to get to the house and the next hour is full of unpacking and the wait staff running around, trying to get everyone everything they need.

Lunch is served and everyone gathers in the dining room except for Agatha, so you excuse yourself and try to go find her.

You’re just “happening” to be walking by her room when she opens the door to step out, almost bumping into you.

“Your quick solo session take a bit too long?” you ask crassly, delighting in the way her eyes roll exasperatedly. “Next time, give me a call and I’ll get you there quickly.”

She starts walking to the dining room, leaving you behind so you have to speed to catch up. “If I ever want someone to cum after three pumps inside me and leave me even more unsatisfied than I was before, I’ll make sure to let you know.”

“Hey, I’d lay you badly, but I’d lay you gladly,” you say as seductively as possible and she snorts. “Come on, you gotta admit you’ve at least thought about it.”

Agatha spares you a glance. “When I’m trying not to cum. It’s a real turn-off for me personally.”

You also love how she gives as good as she gets. “Please?” you ask, whine, beg. “I’ll be so good for you — I’ll make you feel so good.”

She sniffs and rakes her eyes over your body, pausing at the outline of your cock through your pants. Before you even realize what’s happening, she’s pushed you against the wall and her hand cups your cock and you gasp while bucking into her touch.

“Really?” Agatha chuckles. You make a muffled sound and try to grind up and she rubs her palm against you, making you throb. “You think you could make me feel good with your cock that’s already about to cum for me?”

“Yes,” you choke out and she squeezes harder. You’re panting open-mouthed now, trying so hard to hold back from your release.

She is completely unaffected as she leans in to whisper, “You’re so fucking pathetic,” into your ear and you whimper, your stomach twists, and your cock pulses before pumping loads of cum into your pants. You chant swears under your breath while you cling to her arms for dear life and she watches amusedly as a stain spreads on your pants.

You’ve never been more of a mess in your life and she just smirks smugly before giving your cock a patronizing pat.

“I’ll tell your dad you’ll be a little late to lunch.” And then she walks away, leaving you completely agape against the wall, cock still twitching in your pants.

It’s hard to make eye contact with her the rest of the day without heat flushing through your cheeks and the memory of what she did to you making your cock stir.

The second you can escape after dinner, you do. You fully intend on spending the rest of the night fucking yourself silly and trying to rid your brain of Agatha.

But around ten, there’s a knock on your door and you swing it open to find Agatha standing there in silk, navy pajamas and black glasses. Your jaw drops open and she brushes right past you to walk into your room and tosses something on the bed.

A fleshlight.

“What—” you start to say, but you can’t even finish your question because all the blood in your brain has rushed down to your cock in record time.

Agatha turns to face you, hands on her hips, lips pursed. “Show me that you can last five minutes with it—” nods at the toy, “—and we’ll see about me letting your cock anywhere close to me.”

Your breaths come out staggered and you stumble over to the bed, head spinning. There’s no way this is actually happening. You shove down your sweatpants and boxers and your cock bobs up, rigid and hard and leaking copious amounts of precum.

“God, already?” she snorts and your cock twitches. “You’re so fucking desperate, aren’t you?”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips and you give yourself a quick stroke. “Fuck.” You reach for the fleshlight, heat completely overwhelming your body, but she stops you first.

“Spit on yourself,” she orders and you watch her with wide and pleading eyes as a strand of saliva drops from your mouth onto your cock. You feel like you’re in a trance as you spread it out along your length, the wetness of your spit and precum coating your cock and making it glisten in no time. “Fucking pathetic.”

Her jeers only make you harder and this time, she doesn’t object when you grab the toy. You think you can hear her sharply inhale when you drag your cock against the fake pussy lips and you already know there’s no fucking way you’re going to last one minute, let alone five.

“Wanna fuck you like this,” you babble before pushing your tip in and instantly freezing at the silicone ridges squeezing around you. You sigh heavily before your breathing quickens and you’re practically panting by the time you get your entire cock inside the fleshlight.

Agatha’s face is unreadable. “I’m impressed you made it in,” she says, coldly and completely dry, and it makes you thrust into it. It feels so good, even though it’s just a cold, plastic toy and you can only imagine how the real thing would feel. “Well, get on with it. Chop chop, honey. I haven’t got all night to watch your sorry attempt at proving you can fuck me.”

You grunt and start moving your cock in and out of the toy, whines falling out of you, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to focus on not cumming too soon. You want to last — you need to last for her, because she might actually let you touch her if you.

“Ah ah,” she tuts and your cock throbs. “Open your eyes.”

You obey, and the moment you see her, see the slight redness of her cheeks, you know you fucked up.

With a loud grunt, you cum in the toy, filling it with so much of your seed that it spills out of the fake cunt and drips onto the floor as you continue snapping your hips up.

Agatha laughs and walks straight to the door. “Not even thirty seconds. Maybe next time.”

You are absolutely fucked.

The next night, you’re almost to two minutes while desperately trying to think of anything else other than Agatha standing right there. She’s watching intently, like she’s studying your technique and critiquing it in her head, and you’re doing really well — you think you might actually have a chance to get to five. The secret is thinking about all the boring contracts you had to read this summer to keep your mind off the overwhelming pleasure you’re getting from the toy.

But then Agatha steps closer to you, runs a finger over your lips and down to cup your breast, and says, “God, you really are just a baby, aren’t you?” so sickly sweet.

It makes you curse before filling the toy up again, your body completely betraying you.

“That wasn’t fucking fair,” you try to argue.

She sticks out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “Oh, honey,” she coos and it’s so fucking condescending. Your cock twitches inside the toy. “It’s not my fault you’re so pathetic you can’t control yourself.”

“Yes, it is,” you whine and she rolls her eyes.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe you should cum before I get here so you might have a chance at lasting for five minutes,” she taunts and you’re too embarrassed to tell her that you already got off before she came tonight. Clearly it did not work.

You figure that maybe you just need to cum more throughout the day to build up some stamina. You fuck yourself with the fleshlight in the morning after you wake up with morning wood because surprise, surprise: you had another dream about Agatha. When she takes a sip of her orange juice at breakfast, eyes flicking up to meet yours as she sucks on the straw, you have to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and it only takes you about six strokes before you’re cumming all over your hand. It’s a long day of lounging around the pool and hushed conversations, and the moment Agatha steps out onto the desk in a sensible one-piece, you have to wrap a towel around your waist so no one sees your erection through your swim trunks to run back to your room, hastily saying that you forgot sunscreen. You cum into the fleshlight in about three minutes.

And about thirty minutes before she shows up to your room at 10 pm on the dot, you have another quick session with your hand.

You are absolutely determined tonight.

When she strolls in through the door, the air is different. She’s carrying a glass of Scotch and you snatch it as she walks past you, downing the rest in one sip.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” she asks, eyebrow raised and giving you a once over.

You laugh sarcastically before setting the cup down on the nightstand and tearing your shirt off over your head, not missing the way her gaze flicks down to your nipples. Usually, you just take your boxers off, but tonight, you want her to see all of you.

“A little arrogant, hm?”

Nodding your head, you spit onto your cock and stroke it to full hardness. This is also the first time you haven’t had a raging erection the second she arrived. Before she can say anything, you’ve grabbed the fleshlight and started thrusting your cock into it. It feels good, but you’ve become so desensitized to it, just from today, that you’re feeling more confident than ever.

Agatha realizes this, sees it on your face. “Wow, look at my slut,” she croones. “She finally learned how to fuck herself. Doesn’t mean you can fuck someone else though. I bet the moment you get inside me, you’ll cum because you’re too fucking pathetic to actually make me feel good.”

The degradation goes straight to your cock and you grunt, pausing for a second before resuming. The smirk on her face is as frustrating as it is hot and only makes it harder to think clearly.

“You’re just a worthless little whore, aren’t you?” she snarls and your breaths become shallow and your thrusts become more like quick ruts into the toy.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan quietly, tightly, and god she’s not playing fair at all. The toy is squeezing you so hard and it’s becoming tougher to keep fucking it, but the prize of getting to be inside Agatha is so close if you can just hang on.

She scoffs sharply but you can see the heat on her face. Fuck. She likes this. “How are you not absolutely humiliated by yourself and how desperate you are?” she says, getting meaner, and precum is leaking out of the toy each time you drive your cock back into the toy. If you weren’t actively using all of your effort to keep from cumming, you think you would’ve filled up the fleshlight at least three times by now. Agatha is trying so hard to break you, but you refuse.

The most excruciating five minutes of your life finally end, and you are so fucking triumphant. “We had a deal,” you remind her hoarsely.

“Stop acting like lasting five minutes is an accomplishment,” she scorns and you have to pull the toy off your aching erection or you actually might cum. Your cock bobs up and down, trails of precum dripping onto the floor and down your length. You’ve made such a mess. “Get on the bed,” she orders, and your heart stops.

You lay on the duvet, resting your back against the pillows, and watch with bated breath as Agatha slowly unbuttons her pajama shirt. You whine when you can see her tits, round and perky, and you need to get her rosy nipples in your mouth immediately. She takes off her shorts and you can’t help but hump the air, your cock engorged and neglected.

“Please,” you sob. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

She mockingly coos and then climbs onto the bed with her underwear still on, straddles your hips, and she slowly grinds against your cock. A loud, high-pitched keen tears itself out of your mouth and you buck up into her, but she tsks and hovers above you. “Patience, pet,” she says and there are literal tears in your eyes from how hard you are.

Agatha reaches down and pulls her panties to the side and rubs her clit for a moment.

“Can I—”

“—touch me? No. There’s no way you’d make it inside me then,” she sneers and you hate to admit that she’s right.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your cock jumping when she slides two fingers in herself. Your head is spinning, completely drunk with need for her.

She takes pity on you and grabs your cock, angling it at her entrance. “It’s okay, honey. You’re just a little baby. My little, pathetic, desperate baby.”

And then she slides down on your cock in one slick motion and your hands scramble to dig into the bedsheets and a loud, strangled moan comes out of your mouth, and you cum instantly, the feeling of her warm, wet walls around you too much to bear.

To her credit, she doesn’t laugh as you rut into her frantically. She just waits for you to finally calm down before squeezing her cunt around you. It makes you gasp. “I knew you couldn’t last,” she says, slowly starting to bounce up and down your cock.

“Too sensitive,” you whine and she clucks her tongue.

“Well, you promised that you were going to fuck me, didn’t you?”

Your cock has softened inside her, your cum starting to leak out of her pussy, and she collects it with her fingers and starts to rub her clit. Her walls spasm around you and you twitch. You nod your head and bite your lip — she is everything you’ve ever wanted.

It takes a few minutes of Agatha clenching around you to bring you back to full hardness, a speedy recovery even by your standards, and she starts to ride you for real.

“Good thing you’re the poster child for instant gratification,” she grunts, lifting herself up and then back down. There’s such a mess between the two of you that there’s squelching sounds each time she moves on you. You’re practically frozen beneath her and all you can do is watch as she fucks herself on you. “Just need to make you cum before actually being able to use you. I’ll train you so well, make you nothing into more than a cock for me to fuck.”

You finally regain the ability to think and start desperately thrusting up into her, needing more than anything to make her moan, to make her cum. She’s riding you faster and harder and her chest is becoming flushed and you think she might actually be getting somewhere.

But she squeezes around you again and fucking groans and you never stood a chance. “Fuck, fuck, fuck — Agatha, I’m gonna — fuck!” you cry and erupt inside her again, painting her walls white once again. You’re not even sure if you made it five minutes inside her.

Agatha slows down on top of you and you wince at the overstimulation of her still wrapped around you.

“Did you?” It’s a stupid question, one you already know the answer to, but you’re hoping that maybe you got it wrong.

Her laugh tells you that you did not and she slides off you, your cock flopping against your stomach in a sticky puddle, and she grabs the edge of the blanket on your bed to wipe the globs of cum oozing out of her. Fuck. You’ll never be able to use that blanket without getting hard again and you know that you’ll be fucking the fabric every single day for the rest of your life.

She flops down next to you and you wonder if it would be foolish to ask her to stay. “It’s not that easy to make me cum, pet. But don’t worry. I’ll get you there.”

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#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut

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drmaddict · 6 months ago

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One or Two Books my Ass

Summary: modern!Aegon writes erotic books. (Y/n) finds out and Aegon's self-doubt takes over.

Wordcount: 658

Warnings: mention of a mommy kink (like in the last sentence), no use of (Y/n), no actual smut, just fluff

"No! NO!" Aegon snatched the pages, she had found on his desk from her hand and pressed them to his chest.

She looked at him in bewilderment. "Did you write this?"

"No.", he said sulkily. "That's... from the internet", he babbled and put the thin script in a lockable drawer.

"Ah. And the editor's notes were from the internet too?"

Aegon's face looked stubbornly at the drawer. "Just a hobbie.", he muttered, but his jaw was grinding. He left the room, but she quickly followed him.

"That's really good!", she called after him. "Aegon, I'm serious. You're writing?"

He flopped down on the sofa in the living room. He sighed. "I might have one or two books... published.", he sulked.

She sat down next to him, irritated. "That's actually something most people would be proud of, mouse." She put his legs on her thighs and stroked his calves.

He stubbornly looked at the ceiling. "I write porn. Go on. Make fun of me." he grumbled. "Like everyone else." He mumbled so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

"You write erotica and it seems you do it very well. It's not an easy genre."

He laughed spitefully. "Sure."

She sighed. Who had told him again, that it wasn't worth anything? His brother? His mum? She continued to stroke his leg. "Tell me. Who put the flea in your ear?"

He closed his eyes in surrender. "My nephew - Luke - found my first script. It was about to be published. I was actually kind of proud." He scratched at the bit of callus on his thumb, as he always did when he got nervous. "He ran into the dining room and read it out loud, laughing. The rare times my father looked at me, he just looked at me dismissively, my mum was ashamed of me and Aemond was almost bursting with glee for my embarrassment. From then on, my nephews only called me Porn-Shakspear."

He curled up and buried his face in the pillows.

"Why are you still doing it if you're so embarrassed?", she asked gently.

"It makes money.", he mumbled.

She laughed. "Your family is rich."

"But it's my money.", he explained sadly. "I'm not a lawyer. I'm not a CEO. I'm not a manager. I'm not smart, but... apparently I can, do that..." He sighed devotedly. "At least I can do that."

She squeezed herself between him and the back of the sofa. She gently pulled him into her arms. He buried his face in her chest. "I really like it. Apart from that, I actually really like reading things like that. Do you have a pen name? Maybe I've read something of yours before.", she smiled and kissed the top of his head.

"A.I.I. Black.", he just mumbled.

"What?", she blurted out?

He looks up at her in confusion. Fear was in his eyes.

"I bloody love your books!", she declared.

He blushed and buried himself against her chest again.

"Do you know, how many times we read you at book club?", she asked with a laugh.

"Stop it.", he whined, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist so she couldn't force him to look at her.

She gave up and started stroking his hair. He was almost purring at that.

"One or two books my ass. Bestsellers Aegon! Several worldwide bestsellers! Wait a minute. How much do you make from that?"

He bit his lip in embarrassment. "Let's just say it's weird being a billionaire heir and a self-made millionaire at the same time."

"You bloody little genius." She tousled his hair. "And your asshole-family probably doesn't even suspect a thing."

"So you're not embarrassed by me?", he asked meekly.

"Of course not.", she mumbled softly into his hair, "But-"

He did look up now. She grinned. "I have a few things I want to try."

He smiled. "Anything you want... Mommy?"

"My good boy.", she praised and kissed him quickly on his forehead.

"Fuck."

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #modern!aegon targaryen #aegon fanfic #fluff #aegon fluff #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanficton #hotd

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warblogs17282 · 3 months ago

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Still thinking about the Truth Seekers line where Loona said,

"Blitzo was using a total of zero euphemisms, innuendos, or swears. That means it was serious, which means I don't open it until--"

And now, I'm thinking about all the different emotional and heavy-hitting moments from Blitz, but from the lens of that statement, and I'd like to explore that in a little more depth.

Because I feel like looking through some key moments of Blitz through the lens of that statement helps to add another layer of depth to what Blitz has been saying.

S2 E9:

Blitzo: No, I just- This was the final stop on the apology tour I've been on today.

Stolas: Oh, yes, I recall. Everyone but me is getting your cheap apologies tonight, hm? Well, you certainly have your work cut out for you.

Blitzo: Look, how I acted this morning... It was fucked, okay?

Stolas: This morning? Ugh, why did you show up there? Why'd you show up here?

Blitzo: You already asked that, but look, I-I just really need to... To talk to you, to- to explain.

Stolas: Oh?

Blitzo: I've always been real shit at sorries, 'kay? They're for pussies and no one fuckin' deserves them anyway, but I felt maybe you actually needed one.

Stolas: Ooh, lucky me!

Blitzo: Oh, shit. Okay, what I mean is, I said sorry a lot today and, honestly, didn't really mean any of it. Because the only one I wanted to say it to... Was you, Stolas. I just... This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?

Stolas: Blitzo. There is a crowd full of people here, who cared so much, they'd throw an entire fucking party about hating you, every year! Do you know how much you have to care to do something as stupid as that?

Blitzo: Stolas, you are better off without me. 'Kay? You deserve so much... I don't even know why you would want to be with me.

'I mean you're a fucking prince.' Blitz is technically correct here, but if we consider the Truth Seekers statement, I believe it tells us that Blitz, at least subconsciously, sees Stolas as more than just a prince during this scene, he sees Stolas the man here, not just Stolas the prince. And honestly, that probably makes it hurt more to Blitz, since he's still in disbelief/denial that Stolas has these feelings for him at this point.

Especially considering what it's followed up with, which I'd like to mention doesn't have a single swear word in it whatsoever, telling us even more just how sincere Blitz is when he said that final line.

Verosika: How do you think I felt? When the fun guy I was dating decided to just bail on me because I made the shitty mistake of saying I love... Ugh! It was the most embarrassing feeling. To be vulnerable for once and... you really just know how to send a message in the shittiest, fucking way.

Verosika: The worst part is you still make me feel like a bad person for being angry at you now.

Verosika: But, hosting this party, for everyone else you've dicked over? At least I can help others cope with the shit you did. What? No snarky comeback?

Blitzo: No. You're right. I actually am, ya' know... sorry. I-I don't want to be this way. Not forever.

Verosika: Looks like Stolas is having a good time.

Blitzo: Yeah, well. He needs it.

Again, just pay attention to the fact that Blitz didn't swear once during the part of the conversation I just showed, showing once again even more just how sincere Blitz is being here, to not be the way he is forever, to let Stolas have his good time at the party.

S2 E8:

Blitzo: What?! FUCK you, Stolas! You spring this feelings bullshit on me, are you fucking kidding? Can I get a FUCKING minute to think after everything you put me through, you pompous, rich ASSHOLE?!

Blitzo: Treat me like one of your little butler imps?! You can't just dismiss me like that! I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this EVERY TIME, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as IMPORTANT! Well, I'm not letting you, BITCH! LET'S GO!

Stolas: Blitzo... I think so very highly of you... I didn't realize you think so low of me...

Blitzo: Stolas, wait! I'm s-

You know, the amount of swearing in that part of the episode tells me something, that what Blitz said during the peak of his outburst was exaggerated a little. Does Blitz make some completely valid points during that outburst? Yes. Is what Blitz said during said outburst a bit exaggerated because he was in the heat of the moment? Yes. Both of these can coexist, and I do completely understand why Blitz said what he said during that argument. (I'm not choosing a side on who was in the wrong in the full moon argument here, btw)

And, the lack of swearing when the realisation hits to Blitz of what he's just done, right as he tries to apologise to Stolas just further tells me that Blitz did genuinely mean that 'I'm sorry', he said right before Stolas teleported Blitz out.

S1 E8:

Blitzo: Fuck, Fizz was right. I'm gonna die alone, aren't I? Just a wrinkly, old, withered, waste. Will you be there, Loonie?

Loona: Be...where?

Blitzo: I dunno, jus- ...lonely... Die alone...

Loona: I'll be there, Dad.

Loona: Now go the fuck to sleep... okay?

Blitzo: Millie... Moxxie... Stolas...

Again, pay attention to the lack of swearing in that part of the conversation, minus one 'fuck' at the start of it, it just adds to showing us just how raw and genuine Blitz's emotions are during this scene, showing us that Blitz genuinely believes that he's gonna die alone, and also showing us just how much Blitz still cares about Fizzarolli, Loona, Millie, Moxxie and Syolas.

S1 E7:

Stolas: You know, I have some more wine in the house. Octavia's with her mother this weekend. So, we could--

Blitzo: I'm not fucking you tonight, okay? I'm really just I'm really not in the mood, Stolas.

Stolas: We could talk, or... watch a movie, or... maybe cuddle?

Blitzo: Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time. But, I just, I-I can't do it tonight, okay?

Blitzo: I'm sorry.

Stolas: Okay. Goodnight, Blitzo.

Blitzo: Night.

What I find interesting here is that the two times the word 'fuck' is used throughout this scene, it's used to replace the word 'sex', so thinking about this scene through the lens of that statement, it shows us even more just how much Blitz believes in what he's saying, especially when he says "Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time."

Finally, S1 E6:

Moxxie: Do you remember what you said to me after my first day with the company?

Blitzo: ...Not really.

Moxxie: I remember. You told me I did a good job and that you were proud to work with me. I feel like you wanted to say something more judgmental, but... you said that because I needed it... And it helped.

Blitzo: Look, I'm hard on you, because I know what you're capable of, Mox. You care too much about what everyone thinks except for... me, because, y'know, my opinion is correct, but just... keep doing a good job. 'Kay? You shoot 'n kill good, you escape things easy... you can be strategic and cold-blooded when you need to, aaaand don't expect any more compliments; I'm maxed out.

Moxxie: Thank you, sir.

Blitzo: You know my name... Use it.

Moxxie: Thanks, Blitzo.

No euphemisms, innuendos or swears, showing us that when Blitz was talking to Moxxie in this scene, that he was 100% being serious in what he said.

So in conclusion: I have shown multiple examples where if you think about them through the lens of the statement "Blitzo was using a total of zero euphemisms, innuendos, or swears. That means it was serious, which means I don't open it until--", you start to see more depth within those examples I have shown in this post.

#helluva boss #blitzø #blitzo #stolas #stolitz #helluva boss stolas #moxxie helluva boss #helluva boss verosika

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monkishes · 4 months ago

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Friendly Fire | 01

genre: college!au, jikook x reader

pairing: jungkook x reader, jimin x reader (eventually…)

summary: You and Jungkook had been friends for quite some time, and it seemed like everyone around you could sense the spark between you. They noticed the playful banter and affectionate gazes he directed your way. However, you were completely oblivious to it all, thinking that your relationship with Jungkook was purely platonic. Little did you know, things were about to get complicated. Enter Jimin, who developed a crush on you. This unexpected turn of events stirred up some jealousy in Jungkook. What will happen next?

warnings: swearing, jk is a flirt…

word count: 2.1k

previous | next

"Are you serious? You should see the way Jungkook looks at you," Leila says, her voice low but teasing as she nudges you.

You roll your eyes and groan, gripping her arm. "Leila, stop. Jungkook's just a friend, okay?"

"Right," Leila drags out the word, her tone thick with sarcasm. "You guys are always flirting, though."

"He flirts with everyone," you say, dismissing it with a wave of your hand. Jungkook's charming with everyone—it's just his personality. You've seen him joke and mess around with practically every girl in your friend group. "It doesn't mean anything."

Leila raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. But before she can argue, something behind you catches her attention, and she smirks. "Speak of the devil. Your boyfriend's here."

You don't even need to turn around to know she's talking about Jungkook. "Leila—" you start, but Jungkook's already beside you.

"Leila," Jungkook says, barely acknowledging her before his eyes land on you. His gaze lingers as a smile tugs at his lips. "You ready to go?"

You blink at him, confused. "Go where?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I'm dropping you off, remember? You're so forgetful."

"Oh, right," you say, feeling a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Have fun, you two," Leila sings, giving you a knowing wink as she walks away, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the hallway.

Jungkook falls into step beside you as you head for the exit. "What's up with her?"

"Leila? She's just... like that," you say, hoping to brush it off. You know Leila's been teasing you about Jungkook for months now, convinced there's something more between you two. But there isn't. As far as you're concerned, you and Jungkook are just friends, no matter how much Leila insists otherwise.

Jungkook gives a little shrug. "She acts weird around me sometimes. Maybe she likes me."

You snort at that, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, no. She's obsessed with the idea of us being together for some reason."

"Really?" he asks, sounding amused. His gaze drifts to where Leila disappeared down the hallway, and a grin spreads across his face. "She's pretty cute."

You stop walking for a second, feeling a strange twinge of... something. Annoyance, probably. He's never shown interest in Leila before, and now he's calling her cute? "Since when do you care about that?"

He shrugs casually, though there's a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Just saying. She's hot."

"Good for her," you mutter, trying to ignore the small, uncomfortable twist in your stomach. You're not jealous—why would you be? You've never seen Jungkook that way, and he's never shown any signs of liking you. That's just how he is—flirty and playful with everyone. There's nothing deeper to it.

Jungkook shrugs, eyes twinkling mischievously. "You're not jealous, are you?" he says, staring down at you with a small smirk playing on his lips.

You scoff, turning away, even as that strange feeling simmers in your chest. "Jealous? Of Leila? Please."

He looks ahead, the smirk from earlier beginning to grow as he lazily throws an arm over your shoulder, "Good." His tone drops a little lower, playful but suggestive. "You should know by now, I only have eyes for you."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, right."

His laugh is soft, and you push his shoulder slightly, creating some distance between the both of you and causing his arm to drop from your shoulders.

As you reach the parking lot, you settle into the passenger seat of Jungkook's car and buckle up. Jungkook stays outside, chatting with Jimin nearby. You watch absentmindedly through the window as they laugh together, Jimin catching your gaze for a brief second. He smirks, and you quickly look away, feeling embarrassed to be caught staring.

Jungkook eventually slides into the driver's seat, but instead of starting the car, he pulls out his phone, tapping away at the screen. You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "What are we waiting for?"

"Jimin's coming with us," Jungkook replies without looking up from his phone. "That okay with you?"

You shrug. "Why wouldn't it be?"

He finally glances over at you, that teasing smirk back on his face. "Just making sure. Wouldn't want you getting shy around him, especially after he caught you staring."

Your cheeks heat up, and you scoff, looking out the window. "I wasn't staring at him."

"Sure," Jungkook laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction. "It's fine, Y/N. He's cute, right?"

You huff, trying to shake off the embarrassment. "Yeah, I guess."

Jungkook leans closer, voice dropping a bit. "He's not cuter than me, though."

You give him a look, rolling your eyes. "Debatable."

His jaw drops dramatically. "Wow. After all I do for you?"

"Relax, I'm joking," you say, unable to hide your grin. "You're cute, too."

"Too?" he repeats, mockingly hurt. "I'm cuter. Admit it."

You shake your head, laughing softly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Before he can respond, Jimin knocks on the window, and Jungkook unlocks the door for him to hop into the backseat.

"Finally," Jungkook says as Jimin gets in. "Took you long enough."

Jimin rolls his eyes. "I was saying bye to Namjoon."

"Hey, Y/N," Jimin says, flashing you a friendly smile. "You weren't really staring at me earlier, were you?"

You feel your face heat up again. "I wasn't!"

Jimin laughs, leaning back in his seat. "Don't worry, I'm flattered."

Jungkook, however, doesn't seem as amused. "Alright, alright, enough," he says, a hint of something almost territorial in his voice. "She's off-limits, Jimin."

Jimin raises an eyebrow, smirking as he glances between you and Jungkook. "Off-limits? She's not your girlfriend, Jungkook."

"Still," Jungkook mutters, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel.

You frown, turning in your seat to look at Jimin. What's that supposed to mean?

Jimin meets your gaze, clearly enjoying how flustered Jungkook's getting. "Jungkook's acting all protective over you. It's cute."

Jungkook shoots Jimin a glare through the rearview mirror. "I'm just looking out for her. She doesn't need you messing with her."

You laugh awkwardly, not sure what to make of this conversation. Jungkook's never acted possessive over you before, and you can't quite figure out why he is now. But it doesn't mean anything—it's probably just his way of teasing.

Jimin raises his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll back off." He winks at you playfully, adding, "But for the record, you are cute, Y/N."

"Thanks," you mumble, feeling your cheeks burn again as you quickly turn back around.

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head. "Dickhead."

You glance at him, confused by his reaction. He's never cared about guys complimenting you before, so why is he acting all weird now? But you brush it off. Jungkook's probably just messing around like he always does. There's no way he actually cares.

The rest of the ride is quiet, save for the soft hum of music playing in the background and the occasional breeze through Jungkook's open window. Jimin keeps to himself in the backseat, and you steal a glance at Jungkook, who seems unusually focused on the road. Maybe it's just been a long day.

When Jimin's finally dropped off, Jungkook exhales, as if he's been holding his breath the whole time. You look over at him, confused by his sudden change in mood, but decide not to ask. Whatever's going on with him, it'll pass.

You're just friends, after all. Nothing more. Right?

As Jimin disappears into his apartment building, the car feels oddly quiet, the weight of the earlier conversation still lingering. Jungkook taps his fingers on the steering wheel, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with a subtle tension you can't quite place. You glance over at him, wondering if you should say something, but he seems deep in thought, his eyes focused ahead as he pulls back onto the road.

"So," you start, trying to break the silence, "what was that all about back there?"

Jungkook glances at you briefly, but his expression is unreadable. "What do you mean?"

You shift in your seat, turning toward him. "You know, the whole 'off-limits' thing with Jimin. You've never cared when people flirted with me before. Why act weird now?"

He's quiet for a moment, the only sound being the soft thrum of the engine as he drives. You can see his jaw clench slightly before he responds, his tone light but a little strained. "I just didn't want him to make you uncomfortable. That's all."

You raise an eyebrow, not quite buying it. "Jimin wasn't making me uncomfortable. He was just joking around."

"Yeah, well," Jungkook shrugs, "I know him. He pushes things too far sometimes."

You narrow your eyes at him, but he keeps his gaze stubbornly on the road, not giving you much to go on. You've seen Jungkook brush off other guys' comments about you before, never giving them a second thought. So why does this feel different?

"Okay, but you were acting kinda... protective," you point out. "Like you were actually bothered by it."

He scoffs, shaking his head with a small, humorless laugh. "I wasn't bothered, Y/N."

You cross your arms, eyeing him suspiciously. "Could've fooled me."

Jungkook finally glances at you, and for a second, his eyes are searching, like he's trying to figure out if you're serious. Then he sighs, turning back to the road. "You're overthinking it."

"Am I?" you ask, leaning back in your seat, not entirely convinced. There's something about the way he's avoiding the question that makes you feel like you're missing something. But it's Jungkook, and over the past year and a half of being friends, you've never once gotten the impression that he saw you as anything more than that, and you really hope he didn't.

Still, you can't deny the way he acted earlier was... off.

The rest of the drive passes mostly in silence, save for the occasional hum of the radio and the sound of the city fading into the distance. It isn't until you pull up in front of your building that Jungkook finally speaks again.

"Hey," his voice is softer now, the tension in his shoulders easing as he shifts in his seat to face you. "I didn't mean to make things weird earlier. Jimin was just being annoying, and I—"

"It's fine," you cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. "I get it. You were just looking out for me."

He studies your face for a second, like he wants to say something more, but instead, he just nods. "Yeah. Exactly."

There's a pause as you both sit there, the quiet settling around you again. You can feel his eyes on you, like he's waiting for something, but you're not sure what. You look back at him, offering a small smile.

"Thanks for the ride."

Jungkook's lips curl into a half-smile, but there's something in his expression that's harder to read now, like he's holding something back. "Anytime."

You unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the door handle, but before you can open it, Jungkook's voice stops you.

"Y/N."

You pause, glancing back at him. "Yeah?"

For a moment, he doesn't say anything, his gaze flickering to the steering wheel before he looks back at you. His eyes are softer now, more vulnerable than you're used to seeing. "You know... if there's ever something bothering you, or if anyone gives you a hard time, you can talk to me, right?"

You blink, a little taken aback by the sudden sincerity in his tone. "Of course. I know that."

He nods, his smile returning, though this time it's more genuine. "Good."

You feel a warm flutter in your chest at the look he's giving you—kind, reassuring. It's the same look he always gives you when he's trying to be the good friend, the one who's always there to have your back. And that's what you are, after all—friends. Nothing more.

With that thought firmly in mind, you smile back. "Thanks, Jungkook. I mean it."

"No problem," he says softly, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer before he adds, "Get some rest, okay?"

You nod, finally opening the door and stepping out of the car. "You too. Drive safe."

As you close the door and make your way toward your apartment, you can feel his eyes on you until you're out of sight. There's a strange feeling lingering in the pit of your stomach—something you can't quite put your finger on—but you shake it off, chalking it up to the weirdness of the day. You've never thought of Jungkook as anything other than a friend, and he probably doesn't think of you that way either.

But as you close your door behind you and lean against it for a moment, you can't help but replay the way he looked at you tonight, like there was something more he wanted to say.

#bts #bts ffs #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jimin fluff #jimin smut

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kayentokk · 9 months ago

Note

Hey :) How are you doing?

Okay so, i wanted to request a platonic father Aizawa in which he is out patroling and he finds his teen daughter doing something ilegal with her friends or something like that.

Please and thankss :)

A/N; I’m okay thanks for asking! Love this idea, I’ve gotten many requests somewhat related to this lately actually! I’ll be posting those throughout the week. Also sorry it’s taken me a while to get to this! 🥲 I truly believe Aizawa is a girl dad and a softie parent.

Pairing; Platonic!Father Aizawa x Fem!Daughter Reader

Contains; a little ooc Aizawa, fluff, soft, drug mentions, reader is about 16-17 like mha characters, quirk-less reader, death mentions, bad friends, comfort

wc; 1,763

You weren’t supposed to get caught. In fact, you didn’t even think you would. It wasn’t a big deal anyways, you only did it because you thought it’d be a way to relax with your friends. Plus, if you guys did get caught your backup plan was your father. It wasn’t like he was going to detain you…right?

Wrong.

You were very wrong to believe that your father wouldn’t take you into custody over a little weed with your friends. You just wanted to have fun! Besides, you didn’t want to be the ‘perfect heroes daughter’ who’s a buzzkill. Why couldn’t he understand that?

There was just so much pressure that came with being the child to a hero. Your friends already joked about how you were too ‘good’ to do anything remotely illegal. Which is part of the reason you were in this situation in the first place.

Of course he just happened to be patrolling around the alley you and your friends decided to get a little high in. That was just your luck, he didn’t seem mad though. So you thought he’d just tell you guys not to do it anymore, and move on. Nope. Leave it to Aizawa to want to teach you a ‘lesson’ all of a sudden. He was normally just a “don’t do it again,” kind of parent. Mostly because you had never done anything of this caliber before.

“Did you really have to bring me in?”

Silence.

“I mean come on, none of the other heroes care. They’re too busy thinking about protecting the city, shouldn’t you be too? Nobody cares about a couple of kids getting a little buzzed, besides everyone does it nowadays-“

“That doesn’t make it okay y/n.”

You’ve rarely seen him like this, so tense. He didn’t look angry, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you got that he was. It was almost….scary.

So you resigned to a simple, “Okay, I’m sorry.” Were you really sorry though? Not that much, you still didn’t see the big deal.

He let out a low grunt, “This is serious y/n, I know you think I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” well he said it first, “but you could’ve been seriously hurt.”

“Hurt? From getting a little high?”

“Criminals lace that stuff all the time, whether it’s with poison, more drugs, or whatever else they decide-“

“Yeah sure, but we got it from a trusted source-“

“And who’s that?” He said crossing his arms.

Oops.

You decided it’d be best not to respond right now. Especially since the source wasn’t technically trusted, just another kid who got it from someone else. Who probably got it from someone else too.

Sensing your apprehension he decide to drop it, “we’ll revisit that later,” he said waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll drop you off at home, you’re grounded.”

You internally groaned at that, grounded? That’s a new one, you were starting to really regret your decision. You should have just told your friends no, even if it meant being the ‘buzzkill.’ Then you remembered, your friends-

“What about my friends?”

“We’re working on calling their parents to come pick them up soon.”

“No!-“ you said sharply, “I-I mean, can’t you just let them off? Or something?”

“You know that’s not how this works, they are already getting off with a minor offense. The worst they’re going to get is their parents’ scolding.”

“Dad! You don’t understand-“

“I understand perfectly fine, a bunch of young kids wanted to ‘have fun’ and thought this was the best way to do it.”

Okay maybe he did understand, but not your side. He didn’t get that now you’d officially be the outcast, the top 10 ranked hero’s daughter who gets everyone in trouble. Does he get how embarrassing that is?

“Come on, let’s get going.”

You stood from the chair leaving the comfort of being shielded, by the small desk separator, from your friends’ piercing gazes. They thought your dad would let you all off too considering the chaos the city’s currently in.

You nervously waved and mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to them before rushing out the door trying to follow closely behind Aizawa.

You guys didn’t speak the whole way home, you opted for silence mostly because it wasn’t that big of a deal and he just didn’t know what to say. You had never done anything like that before, or had he just never caught you? When did that start?

He remembered when you were little and you’d give your vegetables to stray animals so you didn’t have to eat them, or when you tried to sneak out at night and he caught you. But those were all pretty minor things, and he was only always concerned with your safety.

You’d never done anything this bad, and in terms of the worst thing you could do of course this wasn’t horrible but he still didn’t get why. It couldn’t have just been for fun.

He entered the house after unlocking the door and opening it for you. Before you could make it to your room, where you’d probably go to sulk, he decided he’d ask.

“Why did you want to do that y/n?”

You stopped and turned around to face him. He was standing in front of the door, and now that you actually took in his appearance he looked tired. His dark circles more prominent, eyes a light pink most likely from his quirk, and his black pants had small patches of dust that had been hastily patted off on them.

You replied after a moment, briefly forgetting his question, “For fu-“

“And don’t just say for fun, because I know you and there are plenty of other things you would do for fun.”

You huffed resigning to just come out with it, “it was a bet.”

“A bet?”

“My friends bet me that I wouldn’t get high with them since I’m a hero’s daughter.”

“And you decided to take them up on that?”

“Yes, I know it was stupid okay?”

“I know you know, you’re smarter than that. So why’d you say yes?”

Why’d he have to be so persistent? “Maybe because I thought I’d finally get some friends.”

“What do you mean y/n? You do have friends.”

“No, I don’t. Momo, Tsu, and Uraraka only hang out with me out of pity, since you’re their teacher, if they even have time-“

“Pity? Y/n no they don’t, there’s nothing pitiful about you at all-“

You scoffed, “don’t lie. I get you’re my dad and all but be honest with yourself, truly honest.”

“I am being honest. I’d never lie-“

Guess you’d just have to spell it out for him then. “The only daughter you had killed your wife, was born quirk-less, and there’s nothing special about her!” You were shocked at the admission of your own feelings but kept going, “I don’t have a talent, I’m not exceptionally smart, I’m not breathtakingly pretty, and I can’t even make friends!” You listed raising a finger for each reason, “Now tell me what about that is not pitiful?”

After that question there was silence, and Aizawa was just looking at you. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until the first tear slid down your nose crease and hit the corner of your lip. Before touching could even wipe your tear or register the sound of footsteps approaching you, you were being hugged. Fully covered by his arms, your head grazing the bottom of his chin where stubble had began to grow, face buried partially into his scarf.

You heard high pitched wailing, which you hadn’t even registered was you until his hand began to rub up and down your back with quiet ‘shh’s to try calming you.

“Don’t cry, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, none of it okay?” He began whispering in your ear.

“Your mom and I both knew the challenges she’d have if she gave birth to you. We were well aware, and she wanted to have you. She didn’t care if she’d die in the process, you are our child.”

He continued comforting you, and when you eventually calmed down he let go and gently pulled your face out of his chest so you could look him in his tired, red eyes. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry if I don’t tell you that enough okay? It’s my fault I’m sorry. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’re perfect. I mean that, I’d never lie. You don’t need a quirk, to be super smart, or have a special talent. You’re perfect to me, okay? And that’s all that matters. You’re important to me,” he said firmly.

“Okay?”

You sniffled, reaching a hand to wipe your nose, “okay.”

“Hey,” he said turning your face back to his, “I really mean it, I’d be no where without you. And how could you say you’re not beautiful? I know I’m not the best looking hero, but haven’t you seen the pictures of your mom? You take after her, gorgeous. Nothing I’d ever change about you, I don’t regret anything.”

“Okay,” you said slightly unused to him saying these things, “I’ve never heard you say something so corny dad,” you said chuckling trying to lighten the mood.

At that, he gave a small grin which faded when he remembered your earlier point, “And Ochaco, Tsuyu, and Yaoyorozu do like being your friend. Not just because I’m their teacher, trust me I’m more of a supervisor if anything. I let them figure most stuff out on their own. They wanted to meet and hang out with you. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, you make friends just fine.”

“I know, I know, it was just heat of the moment stuff dad.”

He let out a sigh of relief, hugged you once more, and pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead.

“I still have about another hour of night patrol, but I’ll stay here if you want me to?”

“No dad, it’s fine go.”

He looked at you once more as if saying, ‘are you sure?’

“Yes I’m sure I’m fine, it’s only an hour anyways.”

“Okay, call me if you need anything, I’ll be back soon,” he said headed towards the door.

“Okay,” you said starting to walk to your room.

But just before he shut the door you dashed for it and started, “Hey! does this mean-“

“No you’re still grounded,” he said.

And with that the door shut.

@/cafekitsune for the divider!

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punkslovepoints · 1 month ago

Text

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template from Steddie Support Podcast on twitter

Summaries and links below the cut

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i got your name stuck to my tongue (only call me when you're drunk) by GhostEnthusiast [22k E]

5 times Steve fools around with Eddie Munson at parties, and 1 time he invites him to one himself.

Exactly What It Looks Like by @bilbosmom-belladonna [31k E]

Steve makes a face at Eddie. “You've imagined doing stuff with a guy?” “Yeah, man,” Eddie replies, spreading his hands wide. “Doesn't everyone?” Steve tilts his head to the side as he thinks. Maybe not very often, but his freshman year when Davey Riggs had been swim team captain? Yeah, he had definitely imagined some stuff that had made trips to the locker room kinda awkward. “Yeah, that's true,” Steve answers, nodding. “I wonder why everybody acts like it's so gross, though.” In the summer of 1986, Steve and Eddie have some perfectly normal fun between a couple of perfectly normal dudes.

Path to the Rainbow's End by gayhandshake [17k M]

Eddie always believed he was getting out of Hawkins. He knew he was meant for something else, even when he thought he only had two options: a bus to the state penitentiary like his father and his father’s father before him or a plane to Los Angeles, paid for by a record executive with a fat bank account and a vision. Turns out, there was a third path, and when he left town, it was in the driver’s seat on I-90, trailing behind a brown BMW carrying the Wonder Twins, with most of their shared possessions shoved into the back of his van. The van survived the drive to Rochester, but just barely. He coaxed her along with soothing words and stroking hands until she rolled to a stop two houses down from their new place, like Flipper dying in her trainer’s arms. He didn’t cry then, because they’d done this song and dance before. He did throw a very mature, contained temper tantrum at the mechanic the next day. -- Eddie knows exactly who he is. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.

Somewhere it Hides a Well by @teddywesworl [8k E]

Eddie ducks his head briefly, a gesture that doesn’t quite fit with the guy’s overall image: buzz cut, obvious ink, scars on his jaw. A bunch of his shirt buttons are undone, and Steve can see a white tank and a gold chain underneath. “Yeah,” Eddie says. “I’m at a shop in Uptown.” It’s rote, sounds sort of disinterested. Steve might think he’s being dismissed if Eddie Munson’s eyes weren’t raking over him, lingering at his jawline, his throat, his hands when he adjusts his cuffs. Or: At Lumax’s wedding in 2003, slutty bisexual physical therapist Steve sets his eye on inked up tough guy mechanic Eddie and peels away his mask.

You Could Call Me Nancy by @pinkie-quinns [5k T]

Steve and Nancy get back together. And Eddie, well. He does what any respectable person would do in that situation. He drinks about it.

Restorative Violence by @anniebass [30k E]

Unlike his uncle, Eddie still dreamt of bigger things, the fame of a musician, good cars, big-ass mansions, talked about it in the hospital bed, as with the trailer’s ruin came hope of relocation, the first step toward betterment, maybe a house a touch less vehicular, one maybe not so weiner-shaped. Still, his new room failed to convey a fulfilled dream; the unpacked boxes stood in unstable towers, dust covered the guitar, only the dirty dishes seemed to be a movable component of a life sustained, not lived. It didn’t seem like Eddie was fine at all.

Late Bloomers by @arimakes and @mojowitchcraft [65l E]

Two men walk into a gay bar. One thinks he’s straight, one thinks he’s vanilla. Both of them are idiots.

Steve & Robin by @audacityofbird [120k M]

It's 1995. Two sets of best friends find themselves in Chicago and in each other's orbit as they try to figure out how to best navigate the world, work, relationships, family, and friendships in their mid-twenties. Chrissy is starting a new job in a new city with only an old friend to help tether her. Eddie tries to help his band find their big break. Steve tries to get his matchmaking family off his back and Robin hatches a plan to help him do that in an unconventional and seemingly logical way. They're all finding themselves and their way to each other. So, who cares if they stumble along the way? At least they have each other.

Don't Hate The Player by orphan_account [6k M]

Steve Harrington doesn't really play video games. Not his thing. Somehow, however, he's ended up in an utterly delusional, one-sided relationship with an NPC.

The Fire And The Flood by @entanglednow [6k E]

Steve's already spent half a day dealing with the kids misbehaving, he really doesn't need Eddie making his life harder.

would you be my friend? by @their-we-go [8k M]

"Honourable Justice Harrington, I have perjured myself on this stand today, and I would like to recant.”"Honourable Justice Harrington, I have perjured myself on this stand today, and I would like to recant.” “Dude, what are you—” “I lied, man. I fibbed. I told a story. I—” “Alright, okay. I get it.” “I don’t read, uh. Gay porn for the articles.” “Okay.” “I more read it for the, you know.” He scrubs a hand over his face. Wishes he could hide. “Gay porn.” (Or: scenes from Eddie's life after the world doesn't end.)

let's exchange the experience by @jamiethegardener55 [22k E]

"I propose a game," Eddie announced. Steve zipped his coat back up, wincing. "I'm not playing your dungeon game." "Not," Eddie said, "a tabletop game, thank you, Steven. A challenge. A bet." He felt his eyes gleam. Steve gave him a wary look. "What kind of challenge?" "I," Eddie said, clapping his palms together, "will be Steve Harrington. For a whoooole day. And you will be Eddie Munson." -- Eddie and Steve play a game. They have to do whatever the other says for the day. Neither of them has ever heard of BDSM. Things go really well.

Big wheel keep on turning by prufrocks [28k E]

A few months after Starcourt, Steve moves out of his parents' house and into a friend of a friend's empty RV. What follows is a long six months of unintentional minimalism, scraping by on two bucks an hour, and staring at the specter that haunts the other side of the trailer park. Meanwhile, Robin gets a song stuck in her head. A season four rewrite.

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

Then mine from this year:

Pebble [5.4k words, Rated: T]

“Right, well when the male finds a female penguin he likes, he brings her a pebble. It shows the female that he wants to build a nest with her, that he wants to have her as a mate. So I thought -” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You want me to be your mate?”

flood water (a series) [17k words, Rated: E]

“Nothing says last day on earth like trying to fuck your straight friend before disappearing the next day.” Eddie skips town a month after he gets out of the hospital.

how to wake a dead boy (with art work by @bleedingoptimism) [33.4k words, Rated: M]

Steve’s been able to bring dead people back to life since he was a child. It’s a secret he’s managed to keep from everyone, hiding his power under a layer of detachment from the world around him. Then Eddie dies and Steve has a decision to make. A Stranger Things canon-compliant story based on Pushing Daisies lore.

Queer Lodgings [WIP, Rated: E]

After almost dying in the Upside Down, Eddie wakes to a high school diploma, a place at community college, and - yet another surprise in this new sunshine and rainbows existence that is somehow his life - Steve Harrington as a roommate. It's a double bi awakening!

#steddie #stranger things #steddie fics #fic recommendations #steddie recs

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cozymochi · 2 months ago

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Hello hello! Do your ocs have any partner preferences perhaps? Asking for a friend :3

Keep up the awesome work Cozy, your art always amazes me when I pass by. Also love reading your rambles, they're all so well written~

Who is this “”friend”” and what is their INTENT? - I was gonna make a “haha lab partner preference” joke, but I’ll bite…. for the lawlz.

“We're students. We should be studying, not wasting our time with such unacademic pursuits!” - Sebek Zigvolt - SSR Ace Suitor Suit Vignette: “My Beloved”

SHORT ANSWER: Nope because everyone in that series is partner-preference-phobic. LONG ANSWER: I entertain hypotheticals so follow along if you want to. Take it with a grain of salt though. Or don’t! None of this matters 💃

Emilio is too self important and doesn’t really think about potential partners at all. He’s too busy trying to assert how reliable he is and prove how incompetent everyone else around him must be as a result. BUT! If someone were to ask, he’d give them a once over and decide then and there whether or not they’d be worth his time. Weirdly enough he seems more enticed by the idea of somebody matching is self-important and ambitious energy rather than someone who can gas him up. No, no, gassing up is for peers and family. Partner must engage in a constant battle of wits and pettiness and outdoing each other. …Not much of a partnership, really, but nobody said this guy had a healthy and not-skewed idea of relationships.

Cecil does not have the self-esteem to consider serious partnerships, nor entertains the idea of pursuing either. He needs to work out his own issues first, and chances are that alone (and studying) will keep him away from that sorta stuff. THAT SAID, unlike everyone else he is not immune to pretty people who very clearly have their lives together. Outwardly, he’s into those clearly out of his league. Someone confident in their own skin (unlike him), and having that confidence practically radiating off of them is his preference… but, in that response to seeing like, a model on tv or in a magazine kind of way. Otherwise, he probably has no idea what he would actually want. It’s not happening anytime soon to begin with.

Nyoka, surprise, also does not think about partnerships. Not that it matters because in his clan all partnerships between Cobra Beastmen at his status are arranged anyway. When he’s done with school it’s only a matter of time afterwards before that has to be dealt with. So there’s no real reason to entertain preference at all. Maybe having good manners is his bare minimum expectation, but it’s hard to say. He doesn’t really care by any measure and will remain stringent in what’s expected of him. Unless somebody awakens something in him, but what’s the likeliness of that happening? There is no freak here.

🪷 Tia under cut. 🪷

Tia does not entertain hypotheticals.

🪷Romantic pursuits are not on the table for her nor a focus, she just writes it off entirely. She’s got other things going on, like figuring out why she’s even there and finding a way back home. And when she gets back home it’ll be back to business. That’s her plan, and she has tunnel vision when it comes to her future career ventures and making her dreams a reality. Don’t ask, she’ll swerve and never answer. Besides, she probably doesn’t even know what she’d look for anyway. She just dismisses it all and doesn’t allow herself to consider it.

🪷 … BUT…

🪷 …she will notice if somebody is… sturdy. So to speak.

🪷 Despite everything, she sometimes wishes she was the type to entertain frivolous thoughts like that. Given her current situation though, that might not be ideal to toy with.

OKAY BYE i dont know what knowing any of this will do for anybody

#cozy ask #my art #twstposting #i’ll tag these freaks later.#ewww yapping ewww #shoutout to the single reblogger if nobody got me i know homie in the notes got me #…okay now to tag them #emilio estrada alvarez #cecil mugwort #nyoka wadjet #twst oc #urghhhhhhh mmmm ig i’ll tag tia but she kinda doesnt fit amongst this group.#tia dumarais

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heavcnslyre · 2 years ago

Text

chapter six — j.f. ( masterlist )

THIS IS ME TRYING.

“and my words shoot to kill when i’m mad

i have a lot of regrets about that.”

taglist: @jellybassett @glowingtree @always-reading @yla-aira @infinitywarnatenthusiast @imogen-skye @ilovegilmoregirls @lucidlivi @rubydubytuby @creepynativekid @miniemonie2001 (comment or message me to join!)

you sat alone in your room for a while, attempting to calm yourself down. it really seemed stupid after a while, honestly. jeremiah was probably just trying to be nice, and she might find someone else to bring her anyways. it wasn’t something you had to freak out about.

jeremiah knocks on your door after almost an hour.

“come in,” you call out. you’re laying in your bed, aimlessly scrolling on your phone. jeremiah comes in and smiles at you softly, then takes a seat on the edge of your bed.

“moms are back,” he says. “storms pretty much let up now, but they’re still trying to figure out the power.”

“that’s good,” you reply. he studies your face.

“is everything okay? you…left kinda abruptly.”

you look down at your hands. “oh, uh, yeah. i just…i don’t know.”

“what is it, (y/n)?” jeremiah asks, his tone serious. you look up at him.

“are you seriously going to be belly’s escort?”

he flinches. “oh. that. yeah, i think so. i mean… she told me that apparently conrad asked to be her escort but he’s been so shitty to her lately i just figured that i would do something nice for her. why not, right?”

“yeah, sure,” you say dismissively, rolling your eyes up to the ceiling. “why not?”

“what’s the problem, (y/n)?” he asks genuinely. you sigh and shake your head.

“why is she the exception for you, jeremiah?” you ask. “why, out of everyone, is she the exception?”

he stares at you, confused. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“every single time a debutante ball has ever been brought up you’ve sworn to never be an escort in your life. why is now your one exception?”

“why does it matter?” he asks. “i care about belly. of course i’m going to do something nice for her. why are you so mad about it?”

“are you kidding?” you ask, anger suddenly rising in your chest. “do you not remember when i was going to be a debutante last year?”

“(y/n), what does that have to do with me?”

“the day we sat down at dinner and i said that i was thinking about being a debutante. you immediately sat there and scoffed, and said that debutante balls were terrible and you would never be an escort,” you shake your head. “i gave up on being a debutante after that.”

jeremiah’s voice dropped. “but, why? why did my opinion matter to you? you had so many guys who would have been your escort.”

“you were the only person i would even consider asking, jeremiah,” you blurt out, and he lifts his head in surprise.

“what?”

“i genuinely cannot believe that you don’t know this already,” you run your hand through your hair. “i wanted to be your exception, jere. i would’ve loved to be a deb if you were my escort. but you couldn’t stand the idea of being my escort, could you?”

“(y/n), if i had known…” he trails off. you shake your head.

“whatever, okay?” you say. “it doesn’t matter anymore. i’ve moved on from it.”

“you could have told me,” he says.

“you really don’t get it, do you?” you ask. “you made it such an obvious point to bring that up in that moment. you knew what you were doing, jeremiah. you didn’t think of me the same way. it’s whatever. be belly’s escort. she deserves to have someone who cares about her.”

“why do you just assume i was trying to hurt you?” he asks, his tone suddenly defensive. “why couldn’t it have been an honest mistake, that i didn’t realize you thought of me like that?”

“what do you want me to think, then? that you tried to hurt me or that you’re blind?”

“you’re being ridiculous.”

“ridiculous? really?” you scoff. “how more obvious could i have fucking been? the last three summers i have done nothing but basically throw myself at you and you just—“

“no!” he yells, suddenly standing up from your bed. “no, (y/n), you don’t get to do this! you came here this summer with a boyfriend and didn’t tell me! we got so close this past year and you never fucking told me you had a boyfriend, so i walked in to this summer stupidly thinking that now was our time for something to happen. then you drop that fucking bomb on me and expect everything to be normal? you cannot call me blind when all summer you’ve been the one pretending that everything is as it’s always been.”

“jeremiah, you’re literally not listening to me,” you reply, mirroring his frustrated tone. “everything is as it’s always been to me because you’ve always treated me like this! you’ve always acted like i was so special and then walked away from me into the nearest arms of some other guy or girl! you’ve never made your feelings clear. i’m so fucking sorry that me getting a boyfriend ruined all of your plans for us that i was never a part of.”

“you’re such a fucking hypocrite,” he groans, running his hand through his hair. “you’ve always done the same thing! neither of us have ever expressed our feelings to the other. you cannot place all of this on me!”

“whatever, jeremiah,” you say, not looking at him. “whatever makes you feel good about yourself.”

he stands there and stares at you for a moment before turning around and leaving your room, slamming the door behind him. for what felt like forever, you sat motionless, staring at the door behind him. your mind was racing. jeremiah fisher just admitted he has feelings for you. that was a conversation you had imagined in your mind for years, but this wasn’t at all how you wanted or expected it to go. part of you hated yourself for being so harsh. maybe he truly just didn’t see the signs you gave him. maybe he talked himself out of believing them, just like you had for so long. but part of you was relieved that you got those feelings out. being in love with someone brings about positive emotions, but no one talks about the genuine resentment that goes along with the pining. as your feelings grew, so did the pain. a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. but, a new, maybe even heavier one replaced it. you just had the biggest fight of your lives with your best friend. no matter what, your friendship had to come first.

as much as you do genuinely believe that, you are still beyond pissed at him. you have so many unanswered questions that you aren’t even sure how to ask him. part of you talked yourself out of even believing that he had meant that he had feelings for you, but you had to try to ignore those thoughts, or else you knew you’d make things worse.

although it was still early in the evening, shortly after he left, you put your phone down and go to sleep. you decide that being asleep was better than having to stay up and think about that conversation. the power still wasn’t on, and it continued to rain outside for a while, the dark sky being a pretty good representation of how you were feeling. as dramatic as that seemed, it really was true. you felt so shitty. that was truly the only way to describe it. shitty and pathetic.

#jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah x reader #tsitp conrad #tsitp cast #tsitpbookseries #tsitp spoilers #tsitp belly #tsitp steven #tsitp s2 #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #tsitp jeremiah #belly conklin #steven conklin #conrad fisher #the summer i turned pretty

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the-two-of-clubs · 28 days ago

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A r/limbuscompany Reddit thread titled "Why do people refer to Dante as a boy?" had a lot of answers given that frankly depressed me, so I wrote a huge essay. And because it's huge and the Redditors are definitely not going to listen, I'm going to repost it here. For non-Limbus fans, Dante's the game's speaking protagonist of indeterminate gender.

People will just straight up say "I just don't want to use they/them pronouns, it's either he or she and I get to pick, sorry!" and be the top upvoted comment in this thread.

When I encourage you to use they/them pronouns for Dante that's not even because they're nonbinary, it's because it's what Dante is always referred to in the game they're from, and it's because it's a less clunky standin for "he or she" as well. "They" can refer to anyone, that's why it's the single best fit of any common English pronoun for an ambiguous character like Dante. They/them is the only way to refer to Dante without making up a headcanon, whether that be a fan theory that they're Ayin or Benjamin or whatever, or a self insert projection.

They/them is something you (yes you! the reader!) could be getting used to being able to use, for multiple reasons. One of which being for nonbinary people, and another reason being not constantly being forced to assume everyone's gender all the time. To smoothly be able to use language that doesn't constantly exclude women. For example, hearing someone talk about a doctor and immediately leaping to "he/him" is a microaggression, because female doctors are constantly confronted with the assumption that they're either men or nurses.

The more you use they/them pronouns for others, the more natural to you they/them pronouns will seem. And Dante could be a great starting off point for some of you to start doing that. Using they/them pronouns can make somebody's day. It would be real self improvement that matters. You probably know a trans or nonbinary person, whether you know that about them or not.

Some of you are 100% telling on yourselves that you couldn't handle being around a nonbinary person who uses they/them pronouns in real life with this thread. The pronouns are so alien and unusable to you you're performing mental gymnastics specifically to get out of using them. Yes, nobody can stop you from using he/him for Dante, knock yourself out I guess. But also, what is your actual reason to do that? And not just some casual excuse that you're throwing out, like "you can't prove Dante's NOT a man" (why not use she/her then, hm? what if she's a woman? at the very least the correct pronoun for this would technically be "he or she", right?) Or "Dante is a male name" (the entire Limbus main cast has male names and you don't see people "he/him"-ing Faust. Seems like a specific issue you guys have with they/them and Dante.) Really ask yourself why. Why ARE you so convinced Dante is a man? No really I'm serious.

And when that question does get asked by OP here, people are arguing in this thread that men are the ones who play Limbus Company, and that of course everyone's calling Dante he/him because almost all gamers use he/him, with the whole self insert argument. Which is dismissal and erasure of women, who apparently don't exist and it doesn't matter if the game's self insert mascot represents them, despite showing up in this thread to tell you that they and their presumably from context also female friends play Limbus. This self insert argument will never make Dante a binary man, it would make Dante another type of nonbinary which is pangender or genderfluid, because Dante represents all players that play them or whichever specific player is playing them, and to refer to Dante as the concept, the gestalt, the infinite-mirror-worlds Dantes that exist on each of our phones, they/them still suffices in a unique way, to pay homage to other players with different genders than you and their Dantes which would match those genders, I think.

Calling Dante "he" is an active choice you're making, going against the way the game refers to Dante.

Using the pronouns that the character always gets referred to in the entire game they're from is the norm. You guys never don't do that, except in cases like this where it's so you can ignore they/them pronouns. You do have an actual reason, conscious or subconscious, to actively change which pronouns you're using. Some of the people referring to Dante as he/him here absolutely have biases that make them unwilling to refer to Dante as they/them and therefore they're going out of their way to contradict the source material, namely transphobia. That might not be you, but it's some of the people you're sharing this take that Dante uses he/him with.

I am under no illusion that Dante is necessarily intended to be nonbinary representation. However, some of your reasons for "he/him"-ing Dante are very much trans exclusionary. "Dante has a masculine frame"... People who look like men to you sometimes aren't men. Heck, sometimes they're cis women. And if this is the first you're hearing of it, yep! That's always been true and you should keep it in mind. We live in a big weird beautiful world. People who look like men to you might be nonbinary and use exclusively "they/them" pronouns for example, and being referred to as "they" rather than "he" might go a long way to their happiness and comfort because of a thing called dysphoria, which can be medically dangerous for people if they suffer too much of it from being misgendered too often. These people can't somehow get a different skeleton structure and look even more androgynous than Dante does in order for you to refer to them respectfully. Training yourself out of jumping to pronouns because of the width of someone's shoulders can do real world good just like training yourself out of jumping to pronouns because of somebody's career. It all helps you act respectfully and challenge your assumptions. And that can start right now right here. You can just refer to Dante or any nonbinary video game character you've been neglecting as they/them, sound it out in your head, nothing is stopping you.

And yes, before someone starts whining that I'm making "too big a deal of this" because I dropped the dreaded T-word that will get me downvoted, Dante isn't real and can't have their feelings hurt by the fact that people keep referring to them as he/him even if they turn out to have been a woman this whole time. I know I am aware. You should know that nonbinary people are reading the posts you're making and seeing how casually and thoughtlessly you're willing to dismiss even the concept of using they/them for a CLOCK who doesn't even have a human FACE let alone an obvious gender, and I for one know that were we to meet, you wouldn't gender me correctly either. You'd take one look at me and thoughtlessly assume you're always right.

Does referring to Dante as anything at all matter directly? No. It's fiction. However, words inspire people. Everyone is just referring to Dante as he/him because everyone else is and it's considered normal. A creative thinker, a leader rather than a follower, is someone who questions what everyone else is doing, and comes to their own conclusions. Coming to your own conclusions is what you will have to do with what I have written here.

For the Tumblr audience this is probably just an unsurprising PSA that Limbus fan Redditors are being weird about they/them pronouns and a bunch of weird arguments they're using to do so. I'm not trying to come after any queer person's he/they or she/her or any pronoun set Dante headcanons in particular here either, you can tell by the explanation of what dysphoria is that's not the target audience. If you headcanon characters having different pronouns when it's not just because you can't be assed to use they/them we're cool that's very cool of you.

#limbus company #dante lcb #transphobia #discouuuurse *jazz hands #this also made me question whether they/them Dante effectively queerbaited me #because in all likelihood Dante is going to have their pre-amnesia identity revealed somewhere in Limbus' plotline #and the redditors definitely agree that project moon isn't likely to make Dante actual nonbinary representation #they're just a cis person of unknowable gender #and that made me sad cause I got into this fandom specifically because of amazing trans/gnc/intersex headcanons Dante being a major one #but to use the word “queerbaited” is maybe loaded in terms of the amount of blame it puts on p moon #because other people are looking at Dante's they/them pronouns and CLEARLY getting a different picture from me #more like setting myself up for disappointment many such cases

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kjack89 · 10 months ago

Text

Dial Drunk

5 times Enjolras bailed Grantaire out of jail, and one time, well...

The door of the holding cell clanked open and as one, the nine men sitting inside glanced up. “Alright,” the booking officer said in a bored tone, glancing down at his clipboard. “Bail’s been posted for arrestees Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Feuilly, Joly, Lesgle and Prouvaire. You’re free to leave after you sign out at the front desk.”

There were a few grumbles as the men started to get to their feet, but Enjolras remained resolutely seated, his brow furrowed with a frown. “What about Grantaire?”

The man in question chuckled darkly, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell. “Is that actual concern for me that I hear, Apollo? I could die happy.”

Enjolras ignored him. “Pontmercy was supposed to post bail for all of us,” he said instead, aiming his words at Courfeyrac as if the man was somehow still responsible for the actions of his former roommate some five years after they had stopped living together.

Courfeyrac just shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I mean, we all know Marius is a bit of an idiot, maybe he miscounted.”

Combeferre shook his head. “I’m probably wrong and should defer to the lawyers amongst us but I thought I remembered reading something in one of the articles about reforming pre-trial detention that an individual can only post bail for 8 detainees at a time.”

“And so I must’ve drawn the short straw,” Grantaire sighed. “Story of my fucking life.”

Bossuet clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder. “On the other hand, you could take it as a compliment that Marius thinks you’re the one most likely to survive an extended stay behind bars.”

Bahorel snorted so loudly the bars of the cell almost rattled. “Sorry but literally not a single one of us would survive an extended stay behind bars.”

“Speak for yourself,” Feuilly said. “I know how to whittle.” At the blank looks he received, he huffed a sigh and added, “So I can make a shank. No wonder none of you would survive in jail.”

“This is making our goal of prison abolition seem oddly self-serving,” Joly murmured in an undertone to Jehan, who stifled a laugh.

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Not that I’m not sympathetic to Grantaire having to be stuck in here, but I’d just like to remind everyone that since Marius posted bail, we’re technically now here voluntarily.”

“Yeah so GTFO,” Grantaire said with a grimace masquerading as a smile. “Let me rot in peace, etcetera.”

Enjolras looked like he wanted to argue more, but Combeferre muttered something in his ear and he made a face before filing out of the cell. “Serious miscalculation on Marius’s part with this one,” Courfeyrac said brightly as he followed everyone else out. “Because God knows you’re going to complain about this for the rest of all time.”

Grantaire gave him the finger and Courfeyrac winked as the officer closed the cell door behind him.

Sighing again, Grantaire sat upright, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck before settling back against the bench. “You need anything?” the booking officer asked.

Grantaire shook his head. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “Not my first rodeo. Hopefully I won’t be stuck overnight, but I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Oh, yeah?” the officer said with mild interest.

Grantaire nodded. “Central booking at the 16th Precinct is a piece of shit,” he said brightly.

The officer barked a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave Grantaire a long look. “Should I ask what you were picked up for previously?”

Considering the answer to that question was a vast litany of misdemeanors (and felonies reduced to misdemeanors) that the boys in blue tended not to appreciate, Grantaire hesitated. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer at all by the crackle of the officer’s walkie-talkie. “Just a moment,” the officer told him, heading out of the booking area and Grantaire let out a sigh of relief as he slumped on the bench.

“You’re free to go,” the officer said upon returning, and Grantaire looked up, surprised.

“Really?”

The officer nodded, opening the door to the holding cell. “Bail was posted. So I guess you’ll have to save your rap sheet for the next time you’re in here.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “I’d say there won’t be a next time, but…”

He ducked out before the officer could respond to that, making his way to the front desk, stopping in his tracks when he saw Enjolras leaning against the desk, clearly waiting for him. “What’re you doing here?”

Enjolras straightened. “It didn’t feel right leaving you in there,” he said with a shrug that didn’t quite come across as nonchalant as he’d probably intended. “And I happened to have some cash on me, so…”

“Between this and being worried about my welfare, you’re gonna give me the wrong impression,” Grantaire said.

“Guess that depends on what impression you’re getting,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire’s eyes flickered to his and away again, feeling suddenly tongue-tied. Enjolras cleared his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Anyway, we should get to the Musain to debrief.” He glanced at Grantaire. “Unless you’ve got something better to do.”

Grantaire just shook his head, and gestured for Enjolras to lead the way. “After you,” he said, his voice low, and together they walked out of the precinct, their arms just brushing against each other as they headed to meet their friends at the Musain.

— — — — —

“Jesus Christ,” Enjolras muttered as the booking officer removed the handcuffs from a sheepish-looking Grantaire. Well, as sheepish as a man sporting the beginnings of a pretty impressive black eye could look, anyway. “Here,” Enjolras said roughly, holding an ice pack out to Grantaire. “I posted your bail as well.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire muttered, taking the ice pack and wincing as he pressed it against his eye.

Enjolras pursed his lips as he gave him a once-over. “Any other injuries I need to worry about?” he asked.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

“Because that’s reassuring,” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his forehead, but when he looked at Grantaire again, there was something almost soft in his expression. “You didn’t need to do that.”

What he could see of Grantaire’s expression tightened, just slightly. “You didn’t hear what that guy called you.”

He said it calmly, evenly, but his hand automatically balled into a fist at the memory. Enjolras reached out automatically to rest his hand on Grantaire’s fist until it relaxed. “It doesn’t matter what he called me,” he said, his voice low. “I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can,” Grantaire scoffed. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Enjolras just shook his head, running his thumb across Grantaire’s bruised knuckles, a testament to the fact that despite the black eye, he’d emerged from the fight victorious. “I should’ve brought another ice pack,” he murmured.

Grantaire just half-smiled, twisting his hand so that he could lace his fingers with Enjolras’s. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “It doesn’t really hurt at the moment anyway.”

Enjolras cleared his throat and looked away, but he didn’t try to untangle his fingers from Grantaire’s. “Well,” he said, “we should, uh, get out of here.”

“Before they realize you have about a half dozen outstanding warrants for your arrest?” Grantaire asked with a smirk, his voice quiet enough that only Enjolras could hear.

“You’d be amazed what having a multi-million dollar settlement pending against the city will do to the police’s willingness to bring you in,” Enjolras said with a smirk. “Not that I want to test that, of course.”

“Liar,” Grantaire said, grinning. “But better safe than sorry, I suppose.”

He started toward the door, pausing when Enjolras didn’t immediately follow. “Thank you, by the way,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire glanced back at him.

“Anytime,” he said simply. “Thanks for bailing me out.”

Enjolras gave him a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Just don’t go making a habit of it,” he warned. “One day I won’t be here to bail you out.”

“Only because you’ll probably be locked up with me,” Grantaire said.

“Well,” Enjolras murmured, not quite able to stop his smile, “you’re not wrong.”

— — — — —

Grantaire rested his elbows against the bars of the holding cell, his arms dangling into what was technically freedom on the other side. The booking officer, some new guy he didn’t recognize, gave him a look but didn’t say anything, which he took as a small victory, and he allowed himself a small smirk.

A smirk that faded as soon as he saw Enjolras, escorted by another officer. “No dice on bail?” Grantaire asked, seeing the look on Enjolras’s face.

Enjolras shook his head. “No, they’re going to go through the whole arraignment rigamarole. I’ve already let Pontmercy know.” He made a face, casting an irritated look at the booking officer who was pretending not to listen to their conversation. “Apparently they take battery of a police officer pretty seriously these days.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Grantaire muttered. Enjolras sighed and Grantaire gave him a look. “Don’t even start,” he warned. “This wasn’t about you not being able to take care of yourself—”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Enjolras interrupted, his voice tight. “I’m well aware that cop would’ve bashed my head in if you hadn’t intervened.” He shook his head and sighed again. “I was going to say thank you.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said, managing a tight smile. “You’re welcome.”

Enjolras just shook his head again. “You still shouldn’t have done it,” he continued, “because honestly, I’m not worth all that—”

“You are, though,” Grantaire said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Enjolras scowled and Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fine, then why don’t we make a deal?” he said. “I’ll stop defending you when you stop bailing me out.”

“At the rate you’re going, I won’t be able to anyway,” Enjolras said sourly. “Not without putting up some major collateral.”

Grantaire shook his head. “And I’m definitely not worth that,” he said.

Enjolras’s eyes met his. “You are, though.”

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire might argue. Instead, he reached for Enjolras’s hand, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles through the bars of the holding cell. “No touching,” the booking officer barked, and Grantaire rolled his eyes as he reluctantly let go of Enjolras’s hand.

“Will you be at my arraignment?” he asked.

Enjolras shrugged. “Someone’s got to post whatever bail amount the judge decides,” he said.

Grantaire half-smiled. “In that case, I’ll be the one in the front.”

“Pretty sure that’ll be the judge,” Enjolras murmured, grinning when Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.”

“It’ll be the only thing that gets me through spending the night in here,” Grantaire told him, and it was Enjolras’s turn to roll his eyes, though there was obvious affection in the motion.

“Pretty sure Bahorel was right,” he said. “You definitely wouldn’t survive in jail.”

Grantaire just shrugged. “Only if you were in there with me.”

Enjolras shook his head, reluctantly backing away toward the door. “Still time,” he said, and Grantaire’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid while I’m locked up in here.”

Enjolras just smirked. “See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder as he left, and Grantaire sighed, though there something strangely content in the noise, despite, or maybe because of, the circumstances.

— — — — —

Grantaire didn’t meet Enjolras’s eyes as he rapped his fingers impatiently against the front desk at the precinct, waiting for them to bring him his personal effects. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Enjolras asked, his voice tight. Grantaire looked pointedly at the conspicuous clock on the wall and Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Exactly, it’s 2 in the fucking morning. I have a 7 o’clock meeting, which you knew damn well, so why you had to go pick a bar fight with some guy twice your fucking size—”

“So sorry to be an inconvenience to you,” Grantaire drawled, slurring his words just slightly. “Can’t imagine what it must be like to have made plans that get interfered with by someone else’s priorities.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “Are we really doing this here and now?” he asked.

Grantaire just jerked a shrug, not meeting his eyes. “Do you have something better to do?”

Enjolras sighed and scrubbed a tired hand across his face. “I’m sorry that I had to cancel tonight,” he said, with as much patience as he could seemingly muster, considering the circumstances. “But I needed to get this proposal done ahead of the meeting tomorrow, and I don’t really see what the big deal—”

“You never do,” Grantaire interrupted, still not looking at him. “That’s the problem.”

“You knew going into this—”

“Just like you knew going into this that I’m a drunk and a disaster,” Grantaire interrupted, finally looking at Enjolras, his expression hard. “Well, congratulations, Apollo, it looks like we both knew what we were getting into and yet somehow, we’re both still disappointed.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “I’m not,” he said tiredly. “I’m not disappointed, Grantaire, because that would require me to actually expect better from you, and I learned my lesson on that a long time ago.”

Grantaire just grinned, a horrible, twisted grin. “Right back atcha.”

The officer returned with Grantaire’s belongings, and Grantaire grabbed his phone, wallet and keys, returning them to his pockets. Enjolras took a deep breath, but whatever he clearly wanted to say seemed to stick in his throat, and he looked away. “C’mon,” he said instead. “Let’s go home.”

Grantaire nodded once, shoving his hands in his pockets as he slumped after Enjolras, neither man touching the other.

— — — — —

“He’s not technically under arrest,” the cop told Enjolras as he led him back to the holding cell. “But that’s because we couldn’t really mirandize him when he was passed out.”

Enjolras eyed Grantaire, sprawled across the bench in the holding cell, and sighed. “So once he’s coherent, he’ll be charged with, what, drunk and disorderly?”

The officer nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced at Enjolras. “Look, it’s not my place, but, uh, maybe look into getting your friend some help?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras murmured, his expression drawn. “Maybe.” He sighed and turned. “Guess I’ll go preemtively pay his bail—”

“Apollo?” Grantaire croaked, and Enjolras sighed again.

“Give us a moment?” he asked the officer, who just shrugged.

Enjolras crossed to the bars of the holding cell, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. “Tell me,” he said, his tone clipped, “were you trying to get hit by a car by passing out in the street, or would have just been a fun little side effect of this spectacular attempt at blowing up your life?”

Grantaire groaned as he forced himself into a sitting position. “Honestly don’t remember if it was deliberate or not,” he muttered, swaying slightly as he blinked unfocusedly at Enjolras.

“There are easier ways of killing yourself,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire managed a small, sharp smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve considered those as well.”

Enjolras’s expression tightened and he looked away. “You used your one phone call for me,” he said.

Grantaire shrugged. “Didn’t know who else to call.”

“Probably anyone besides your ex.” Grantaire flinched and Enjolras sighed before telling him, as firmly as he could manage, “This is the last time. Do you understand?”

Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh. “If there’s one thing I can promise, Apollo, it’s that this won’t be the last time.”

“Maybe not for you,” Enjolras said. “But I’m done. So the next time you get picked up for a bar fight or public intoxication or whatever suicidal shit you decide to get yourself into next time, call someone else.”

He didn’t wait for Grantaire to answer, just turning on heel to leave him in the holding cell while he went to go pay his bail.

One last time.

— — — — —

The phone rang, and rang again, and Grantaire’s grip on the phone tightened. “Come on,” he muttered to himself. “Come on, pick up, pick up.”

But the phone just rang until the tinny, robotic voice informed him that no voicemail had been set up for this phone number, and he heaved a sigh as he hung up, a headache blooming in his temples that had absolutely nothing to the better part of a handle of whiskey that he’d worked his way through that evening.

“Nothing?” the booking officer asked, and Grantaire ground his teeth together at the fake sympathetic tone.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, and he scrubbed a hand across his face before heading back to the holding cell.

The booking officer trailed after him. “Do you, uh, want to try calling someone else?”

Grantaire just shook his head. “No,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the officer opened the door of the cell for him. “I’ll try again later. He’s probably asleep.”

The officer glanced up at the clock that showed it was barely 10pm, and he shook his head as he closed the door after Grantaire. “Your choice,” he said with a shrug.

Grantaire sighed heavily as he slumped down onto the hard metal bench, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach for an absent glass or bottle of beer, or else for a hand that used to be his to hold. His throat felt tight and he swallowed hard, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell.

He closed his eyes against the tears that he could feel prick in the corners of his eyes, though he honestly didn’t know if he was crying because Enjolras hadn’t picked up, or because there was a part of him that still thought that maybe, in the morning, he would. One more time.

#ExR #Enjolras x Grantaire #Enjoltaire #Enjolras #Grantaire #Les Amis #fanfiction #Les Miserables #modern AU #5+1 things #developing relationship #established relationship #and because it's me #former relationship #mild angst

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sara-scribbles · 2 years ago

Text

The Littlest Dragon (Part 3)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/GN!Reader Summary: Your quiet life as a herbalist is disrupted when you take in an injured dragon Word Count: 5,482 Notes: So, I wrote this with the idea that there's still room to grow in regards to relationships. This is the last part, so enjoy! Warnings: None

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“I’ll let my grandson show you around. But we must have tea tomorrow.” With a wave of her hand, she dismisses the two of you.

You follow Malleus through the rose garden. “Is she…is she always like that?” you ask after a moment of hesitation.

He takes your hand as he answers. “She can be…eccentric. She’s a wise and kind ruler, but grandmother has always had her own ways of doing things.”

There are many twists and turns to the rose garden. “She wasn’t serious, right?” He raises an eyebrow. “That I should call her grandmother?”

“Once she’s made up her mind, it’s best to just go along with it.” He holds your hand gently. “Don’t worry. She likes you almost as much as I do.”

“She called me adorable…” you mumble. Perhaps she sees you as a cute little human. Though you can only assume everyone looks little to her. She even towers over Malleus.

Malleus chuckles. “Do you take offense to that?”

“No… I just haven’t been called adorable before.” Shaking your head, you shift the conversation to the roses. “These are beautiful. There’s so many too!”

Pausing, he reaches out to gently touch a rose. “Can you believe these started out as a handful of seeds? I’ve taken care of them for so long, I almost forget how barren the garden used to be.”

“You did all this?” Eyebrows shoot up. “That’s amazing! I can’t imagine the time and dedication this would take.”

Turning to you, he asks, “Do you like roses?”

“Sure. I think they’re beautiful .” Shrugging, you reach out to touch a rose. The petals are like velvet against your fingers.

“Do you have a particular flower you like?” he probes further.

The entire garden smells of the soft rose scent. “Not really. I mean I’ve never given it much thought. There are so many flowers, how can I pick just one?”

“Hmm… I see.” He thoughtfully looks at the roses. Finally he turns back to you. “Shall I show you the rest of the castle?”

“Lead the way!” Giving his hand a squeeze, you meet his affectionate gaze with a dazzling grin.

---

Standing in the guest room alone, your eyes are still wide with shock. The place is much larger than your own cottage. You're pretty sure you could fit five cottages in the room. After Malleus had shown you around the castle, complete with the history, he dropped you off at the guest room. He promised to let you know when dinner would be served.

Feeling completely out of depth, you wonder if you’ve packed the right clothes to have dinner in a castle. Probably not. You’re almost too afraid to touch anything in case you break something. However, the large bed looks so inviting, you can’t resist.

Kicking off your shoes, you launch yourself onto the bed with a laugh. The moment your body touches the sheets, you never want to get up. The silky sheets and soft mattress is heaven on earth. Letting out a deep sigh, you’re tempted to fall asleep.

But first, you need to unpack and get into something for dinner.

You’re changed when someone knocks on the door. When you open the door, you’re not met with Malleus. Instead, a fae with magenta streaks in his dark black hair smiles back at you. “Hoho, I finally get to meet the famous potion master!” he chortles.

“Uh…”

“I’m Lilia, Malleus’s caretaker of sorts.” He heartily shakes your hand. “Well, let’s get going. Don’t want to leave the queen waiting.”

As you follow him through the halls, you ask, “So you’ve been taking care of Malleus since he was young?”

“That’s right! I remember like it was yesterday when he had an egg shell stuck on his face.” He briefly touches the tips of his hair. “You know, once he set my hair on fire by accident.”

��Really?” It’s hard to imagine him doing anything like that.

He leads you down a flight of stairs. “He was young, so he didn’t have much control over himself. I’ll have to show you some pictures later if you’re interested.”

The idea of seeing pictures of a baby Malleus does pique your interest. “I’d like to.”

“Wonderful!” Clapping his hands together, he stops in front of a door. “I have to go get Mallues, but enjoy your chat with the queen.”

“W-wait! Alone?” He’s gone before you can protest. Standing in front of the door, you wonder if you can just sneak off for a bit until Malleus comes. You’re not prepared to speak with her alone.

“Please come in, (Y/N).” Her voice rings loud and clear despite the closed door.

Swallowing nervously, you slip inside. The queen sits at the head of the very long banquet table. You notice some fae standing off to the side. One directs you to the seat on her left. The seat to her right is set but empty.

She smiles widely when you meet her gaze. “I thought we could talk while Lilia fetches my grandson. The palace is quite large, so it might take them some time. You don’t mind, do you?”

You feel heat prickling along your neck. “O-of course no-not, your highness.” She gives you a sharp look. “...grandmother.”

A pleased smile falls on her lips. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“Myself?” You uselessly point to yourself.

She nods. “Yes. My grandson has told me all about you. But I want to hear it from you.”

“Um, well… I run make potions for clients who send requests. I also sell them in town to the general store. I was taught to make potions by Divus Crewel. Uh, I live in a cottage outside of town with three chickens and a goat.”

She drums her fingers on the table. You notice the wicked looking nails. “Tell me, do you enjoy making potions?”

“Yes, I do.” You answer without hesitation.

Her keen eyes watch you closely. “Why?

You blink a few times. It’s been awhile since someone’s asked you that question. “ I know those without magic can have fine lives, but I wanted to do more. I decided that if I can’t cast spells, I wanted to make potions. For me, making potions is like casting a spell, it can do just about anything. And if what I create can help someone, that’s even better.”

She regards you quietly. You’re unsure what else to say. “I see. Your honesty is refreshing. I was half expecting you to spout some noble reason. My grandson has chosen well. You have a good heart, I can tell.”

“Th-thank you.” Her praise is honestly a little embarrassing.

She sighs. “Seems our little chat has to be cut short.” The doors to the dining hall open, and Malleus strolls in. He glances between you and his grandmother. “Malleus, we’ve been waiting for you.”

His eyes narrow. “Lilia informed me dinner was running behind…”

She feigns ignorance. “Really? Nothing out of the ordinary has happened.”

He takes the seat across from you. “I hope grandmother wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” His gaze softens when he looks at you.

“Nonsense! I was just telling your friend how wonderful I think they are.” She grins, flashing her sharp teeth.

You give him a small reassuring smile. There’s not much else you can say as the food quickly arrives.

“Do you always eat like that?” you ask Malleus. You're almost close to bursting. Everything was delicious of course, but by the time dessert arrived, you were ready to pass out.

After bidding the queen a goodnight, the two of you leave the dining hall. With your arm looped through his, Malleus guides you back to the garden. “Tonight was a special occasion, so the cooks made a little extra.”

“A little?” You don’t want to imagine what a lot would look like. “Hey, where are we going?”

Though dark, magical lamps float around to light to way. “I wanted to show you my favorite spot.”

The air is cool but pleasant. You’re not too concerned about where Malleus is taking you. You trust him. Winding through the garden, the bright moon shines a spotlight. It almost feels magical. Malleus leads you out of the garden bounds and deeper into the woods that surround this side of the castle. Everything here is overgrown and wild. You come to a clearing with a large, clear lake.

In the distance the crickets chirp and frogs call to each other. The moon reflects on the lake making the water glimmer. “Wow…” You’re in awe at the natural wonder.

Sitting at the edge of the lake together, your feet hang off the edge. “It’s been abandoned for years, so no one comes.”

You find yourself leaning into his side. “Do you come here a lot?”

“It’s quiet and peaceful.” Sitting there staring at the lake, you can almost forget everything else. Malleus hums a tune under his breath.

The yawn you’ve been trying to suppress manages to escape. He chuckles. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Shall we return to the castle?” Nodding, you take his offered hand.

---

The next day, you’re woken with knocking. Lilia is there once more with a bright smile. “The queen would like to have breakfast with you.”

“Oh, okay. Um, let me get dressed.” You wonder how early, or late, it is. You slept like a rock.

Once you’re properly dressed, you meet Lilia outside the room. He leads you to the garden, easily navigating the castle’s twists and turns. “Did you enjoy dinner?” he asks.

“Yes. It was all very delicious!” Your stomach grumbles at the thought of breakfast.

“You should try my cooking one of these days. I’d love to share a meal,” he offers. His eyes seem to glimmer at the idea.

Nodding, you offer him a tentative smile. “That would be nice.”

His smile widens. “I’ll hold you to that!”

You arrive in the garden where the queen waits. She greets you the moment you arrive. “Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?”

Taking a seat, you find yourself trying to straighten your posture. “Yes. Everything was so nice,” you lie. How can you tell her that you barely got any sleep? Even though everything about the bed should have sent you to dream land, you spent most of the night tossing and turning.

She chuckles. “Lovely.” Turning to Lilia, her mouth curls upward. “Please get my grandson, Lilia.”

“Of course, your majesty.” He gives a bow before leaving.

The queen returns her attention to you. “While Lilia fetches Malleus, why don’t we talk some more. I’m sure you have a few questions.”

Fiddling with the napkin in your lap, there are a few things that have been nagging you. “So, I was told the reason Malleus was in that form was because of a punishment?”

“Yes,” she sighs, “sometimes punishments are necessary. He was neglecting his duties as prince and future king. Despite my repeated warnings, he continued to wander off for hours on end.”

“Wasn’t there anything less…extreme you could’ve done?” you ask. “I mean, he did get kidnapped by a demon bird and hurt,” you point out.

She takes a sip of her tea before continuing. “Not to worry, dear, I knew where he was at all times. And if I hadn’t punished him like I did, you wouldn’t be sitting here. That would be such a shame…”

As food is placed on the table, you glance around for Malleus. He still hasn’t arrived. “I guess something good came out of it,” you mumble. You can feel her sharp gaze on you. “…did the spell do anything else?”

She ponders for a moment. “Hmm… It did limit his ability to use magic as well as reduce his cognitive functions to more simple, basic instincts. But nothing else. Of course, his magic was already working on breaking the curse from the inside when you encountered him.”

“Is that why he was so affectionate? He was always asking to be held or cuddled…” you muse aloud. You remember all the times he would cuddle with you or beg for your attention in dragon form. You just thought he was naturally affectionate. However, Malleus as he is now isn’t as touchy though he does like to hold your hand.

The queen laughs, head thrown back. The gold chains in her horns jingle as they shake. “My, that's a site I’d like to see!” She shakes her head as her body shakes. “I can only guess that part of it was due to the spell. However, Malleus is very fond of you, so I believe he wanted to express his feelings in some way..”

Your face warms at her words. It’s odd hearing that from his grandmother, and she seems to approve. Yet, you haven’t really heard the words from Malleus’s mouth. You wonder if you ever will. Or will you continue to stay in this strange not-quite-something limbo?

Her features shift into a pleasant smile. “Good morning, Malleus,” the queen greets. He easily slides into the seat next to you.

“Good morning, grandmother. It seems I’m late for breakfast this time.” He gives her a pointed look, but she ignores it.

She takes another sip of tea. “Perhaps you should go to bed earlier so you’re not late next time?”

He can only sigh.

---

Malleus leads you to the training grounds. As you approach, you can hear the clang of metal. Silver and Sebek are sparring in the ring. You stand at the edge watching them.

“Why do they train with swords if they can use magic?” you inquire. They both move quickly back and forth.

“Because it’s good to train all muscles, physical and magical,” comes a voice from above you.

Jumping, you jerkily look up to see Lilia floating upside down. He gives a wave. “Oh! I didn’t see you…” Your heart nearly lept out of your chest.

He descends back down to the ground. “I saw you two coming down the path a while ago. Finally introducing me to your friend, Malleus?” He lightly elbows Malleus in the side.

“Lilia, this is (Y/N).” He gestures between you two. “Lilia has been my caretaker since I was born.”

You shake hands. He has a strong grip for someone his size. “It’s nice to officially be introduced.” Despite his youthful appearance, you wonder, for the third time since meeting him, how old he actually is. If he’s been taking care of Malleus since birth, he must be over a few hundred years old. Your head spins just thinking about it.

“Do you know how to fight?” Lilia asks suddenly.

“No, I never really found the need to. I stay close to the village, the cottage, or the nearby woods.” Life has always been somewhat uneventful. “My two friends know how to fight since they go out adventuring.”

He eyes your form. “Hmmm… I think you could handle a sword. Would you like to learn?”

Eyes widening, you look at Malleus. He looks calm as ever. “I-I never thought about it. Um, maybe?” It wouldn’t hurt to know how to defend yourself.

“Alright. Later, I’ll teach you how to wield a sword.” He points at the two still sparring. “They need to cool down first.”

The two come to a draw. As they wipe the sweat from their forehead, they finally seem to notice you. Sebek immediately rushes over. “Lord Malleus! Forgive me ignorance, I didn't realize you were here!” He bows a few times.

“It’s okay, Sebek. I was just showing (Y/N) around.” He rests a hand on your shoulder. You unconsciously lean into him.

Sebek’s brows knit together as he straightens up. “I see…” You can see him biting his tongue. Probably doesn’t want to yell at you in front of his prince.

Silver joins while handing Sebek a bottle of water. “Stay hydrated.”

You smile brightly. “Hello, Silver,” you greet. He is the nicer of the two.

“Oh, hello, (Y/N).” He gives you a brief nod. “Fath-Lilia, what else are we doing today?”

The shorter fae glances up at the sky. “We’ll take a break for today. I can make lunch!” Both men visibly blanch. You feel Malleus stiffen as the hand on your shoulder briefly tightens. “I promised to make something for (Y/N),” he continues, not noticing the sudden change in demeanor.

Malleus quickly butts in. “Actually, we have plans…”

“What a shame. Next time?” Lilia sighs, shaking his head sadly. “Guess that means more for you two!”

Before you can say anything else, Malleus quickly guides you away. You briefly see the pleading looks from the other two. Once you’re far enough away, Malleus relaxes. “You don’t want to eat Lilia’s food. It can fell even the mightiest of beasts,” he informs you.

“Oh…” You just escaped possible death it seems.

---

Night time falls quickly and you share another meal with the queen. You’re laying in bed staring at the ceiling. Unable to sleep, you roll over on your side. The curtains are drawn back, and you can see the large moon hanging in the sky. It’s strange not making potions or picking up ingredients. You almost feel like you’re wasting time.

There’s a soft knock on the door that has you sitting up. You wait a few seconds and there’s another knock. Slipping out of bed, you open the door a crack to Malleus standing there. “Malleus? Is something wrong?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was wondering if you’d like to talk like we did before?” You can hear the hopeful tinge in his tone.

You fully open the door and gesture for him to come in. “Sure. I couldn’t sleep either actually.” Sitting down on the plush carpet, you lean against the side of the bed. Malleus joins without complaint.

There’s a pause before he asks, “How are you liking your stay so far?”

You grin. “No complaints! The food is delicious, the accommodations are really nice. And I’m enjoying the time I get to spend with you. Your grandmother is also really something.”

“But?” He can see right through you.

Sighing, you lean your head on his shoulder. “But I do miss home. I know I’ve only been away for two days, but I just miss it.”

“I can take you back if you want. I don’t want you to be unhappy here,”he says while reaching for your hand. He laces his finger with yours.

“I’m not unhappy, Malleus. Just a little homesick.” You give his hand a squeeze.

He hums. “I can understand that…”

There’s a heavy silence between you two. You don’t want to leave, but you also can’t shake the feeling of wanting to go home. “Malleus?”

“Hmm?”

You sit up in order to look him fully in the eyes. “Would you like to go back with me for a bit? I know I was supposed to stay here for a week or so, but how about you stay with me for a little? Now that you’re no longer in dragon form, I can take you around town, and you can officially meet my friends.”

“You truly wish to introduce me?” He blinks a few times.

“Of course! I met your friends and family. It’s only fair if you meet mine. I want you to meet them since you’re…you’re special to me, Malleus.”

Lips pulling into a smile, his sharp teeth glint in the moonlight. “Thank you. You are special to me as well.”

---

“Young master, please let me come with you!” Sebek begs. You can see the tears in his eyes.

The next day, Malleus had informed everyone he would be returning home with you. The queen immediately gave her blessing. You’re surprised she’s willing to let him go since he’d technically be neglecting his duties. You do stay for a most of the day before preparing to leave.

Lilia chuckles as he side-steps the prostrating half-fae. “Have fun, you two. Ah, to be young…!” He claps Malleus on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be okay.”

“We look forward to your return,” Silver says with a bow.

The queen leans over and whispers something in his ear. His eyes widen a fraction before he composes himself. She laughs and presses a kiss on the top of his head. “Take care, my dear.”

Malleus gives them one last farewell before walking over to where you’re waiting. He wraps his arms around your form. “Hold on tight.” Even as you’re teleported away, you can hear Sebek’s cries.

Eyes adjusting to the light, you’re standing in front of the gate to the cottage. “I think I’m getting used to that,” you mumble, still trying to clear your head. You can feel Malleus hovering in concern, but quickly reassure him you’re fine. “Well, at least the cottage is still standing…”

Walking through the gate, the three hens are there to greet you. They loudly cluck around your feet. “Hello, Flora, Fauna and Merryweather,” Malleus greets with a slight incline of his head. The three leave you to flock around his feet.

“Seems they like you. Maybe they remember you from before,” you comment with a chuckle.

The door of the cottage opens as Ace steps out. “Oi! Why are you making so much noise-...!” His eyes widen when he sees you. “What are you doing here?!”

“Nice to see you too, Ace,” you comment dryly.

“Ace, don't be mean to the chickens!” Deuce comes rushing out but knocks into Ace. “Ooomf!” He stumbles back a bit before glowing at the redhead. “Hey, wha-...!”

“Hey you!” You wave. Dumbfounded, the two are speechless for once. You notice their gaze is squarely focused behind you.

Malleus is busy petting Philis on the head while murmuring something to her. He glances over when the silence stretches. “Are we going in?” he inquires.

“Yeah. I need to unpack.” Malleus gives Philips one last pat before following you. You lead him by the hand past the two still gawking. “The inside doesn’t look bad either,” you note after doing a quick look.

You set down your bag on a chair. “Are you two going to stand outside all day?”

Breaking out of their stupor, they shuffle inside. They each give Malleus a hesitant look before looking back at you. “Y-your back early,” Deuce comments, finally.

“I missed home. And I thought it would be nice for Malleus to meet you two. You know since the last time you saw him he was smaller.” You look at them expectantly.

Ace blurts out, “You tried to roast us alive! Twice!”

Letting out a deep sigh, you pinch the bride of your nose. “I apologize for that,” Malleus says. “I was not fully myself at the time. I was only trying to protect (Y/N).”

“I’m pretty sure the second time was because you call him fat,” Deuce mutters.

You steer the conversation away from roasting. “Anyways, that’s all water under the bridge. I’m going to put my things away, so I’ll be right back.”

You ignore their protests. Up in your room, you unpack all your clean clothes before storing them away. The clothes you did wear are tossed in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. Standing in the middle of your room, you let out a satisfied sigh. It might not be as grand as the guest room you stayed in, but it’s your place.

Back downstairs, it’s dead silent. The two sit on the couch ramrod straight. Malleus is perched on the other chair staring at them. “Did I miss some riveting conversation?” you tease.

Malleus shakes his head. “Your friends seem a bit…intimidated by me.” He turns to them with a frown on his lips. “I do apologize if I’m making you uncomfortable. I sometimes have that effect on people…”

Rolling your eyes, you give the two a look. “He’s not going to roast you.”

“He’s a prince!” Deuce squeaks out.

Ace is bewildered at your nonchalance. “Dude, he’s fucking royalty and you’re just…just you!?”

“Hmm?” Malleus tilts his head to the side. “If you want, you can think of me as just another fae. Since we are not in Briar Valley, my title should not matter. Right?”

“...”

Walking over, you bop the two over the head. “Give them a day, and they’ll get over it,” you tell him. “Why don’t you two head back to the guild? I’ll bring Malleus by tomorrow.”

The two leave while casting one last glance behind them. Closing the door, you let out a sigh. “Well…that went about how I expected.” Shaking your head once more, you aren’t too surprised at how they acted. “Do you want something to eat?”

Thankfully the fridge is stocked. You notice a box from the local bakery. “That explains why there’s food,” you mumble to yourself. Trey must have dropped by to make sure everything was okay. You’re glad you had the foresight to ask him.

“Can I help?” Malleus asks.

Grabbing a few things to prepare a meal, you hand them to Malleus. As you prepare dinner, Malleus follows your instructions. It’s almost like those times he would help you set the table when in dragon form. Though, it is quicker having an extra pair of actual hands. Dinner is nowhere near as grand as you had with his grandmother. But Malleus seems just as happy to be eating the smaller meal.

Now the only issue at hand is where he’ll sleep. The couch looks woefully small now that you’re looking at it. Sure Ace and Deuce have crashed on the couch in the past, but they’re not as tall as Malleus.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask, holding out an extra blanket.

“Of course.” He takes the blanket from you along with his specialized pillow. “I don’t require much sleep, so I may spend time in the garden out back.”

“Alright…” You hesitate but he doesn’t seem bothered. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night, (Y/N).” You give him one last look before heading upstairs.

Sleep eludes you once more. Though it’s your bed, you can’t seem to get comfortable. Perhaps it’s due to a certain someone downstairs sleeping on an ill-sized couch. Thinking back to when you used to snuggle with Malleus in dragon form, he was like a warm pack. There was something comforting in having him curled against you.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you get out of bed. You grab a sweater from your closet. Heading downstairs, Malleus is not on the couch. You head to the garden in the back. He’s sitting on the bench looking up at the sky. He turns as you come closer.

Brows creasing, he moves over. “Can you not sleep?” Sitting down, you scoot closer to him. Malleus immediately wraps his arms around your form. You lean against him with a smile.

“Yeah… It seems I haven’t been able to sleep well for a few days.” Really if you think about it, you haven’t slept well since he left. However, you ignored the thought in favor of going about your daily life. But it seems the lack of good sleep is finally catching up.

He’s silent as you close your eyes. The night is filled with different sounds. “I could not sleep either,” he confesses after a while.

“Hmm?”

“It seems I have gotten used to sleeping next to you. Fae don’t need much sleep, but even the little I do require has been fitful,” he continues. “I miss your warmth. There was a sense of comfort being in your arms.”

Your heart thuds loudly. He says all this without a hint of embarrassment. You’re not sure what to say. Instead, you keep quiet. “You know, my grandmother said something interesting before I left.”

“Oh?” You do recall the slight surprise in his expression.

His hand, which had been tracing patterns on your arm, stills. “She said that I shouldn’t let you go.”

Your breath hitches. “...”

He chuckles. “I agree with her on that. You know what they say about dragons and how they’re greedy creatures. I want to keep you all to myself.”

Sitting up so you can look at him fully, you're taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. “Malleus…” You break eye contact, unable to hold it. You remember wondering if you’d ever leave that strange limbo of not being quite something with him.

He holds out his hand. “I have a gift for you. May I?” You give him your hand without hesitation. Holding your hand palm side up, he pulls something from his pocket. A small round device is placed in your hand.

Your brows furrow as you inspect the device. You recognize it as one of the old children's toys. It was very popular when you were a child. You wanted one but could never afford it. “This is…”

“Gao-Gao Drakon-kun was a gift from Lilia. It’s my most prized possession. I’ve been taking care of it since I was child,” he explains. His gaze softens at the memory. “I want you to have it.”

“No!” Hurt shines in his eyes. “ I mean I can’t take something that’s your most prized possession, Malleus!” You quickly shake your head. You suddenly feel the weight of the palm sized toy.

He closes your fingers over the toy. “I want you to have it. As a symbol of my affections and trust. I wouldn’t trust just anyone with Gao-Gao Drakon-kun.”

Chewing on your lower lip, you hold the toy close to your chest. “I- thank you for trusting me with something so precious.” Slipping the toy into the pocket of your sweater, you take his hand.

Fiddling with his fingers, you stare down rather than at him. You’d probably lose your nerves if you did look him in the eyes right now. “I don’t really have a prized possession, but I want you to know I care about you. Immensely.” You interlace your fingers together. “I want to spend more time with you, Malleus.”

You glance up to see his reaction. His eyes are wide with his mouth slightly open. Then, he breaks into a beautiful smile. “I wish to spend as much time with you as possible as well. We can figure things out as we go.” There’s a sense of relief that washes over you.

Reaching up, you frame his face. You press a soft kiss to his forehead. Pulling back, you can’t help but laugh at his slightly dazed expression. It very much reminds you of that time you kissed him in his dragon form. He’s adorable in either form.

“Come on, let's go to bed.” You take his hand and lead him back inside. You make sure to grab his pillow from the couch before heading up to your room.

Tossing the extra pillow on the nearby chair, you place Malleus’s pillow down. You take Gao-Gao Drakon-kun out of your pocket and place it on the bedside table. Slipping into bed, Malleus pulls you closer to his side. With his arms wrapped around you, it’s pleasantly cozy.

A yawn escapes your mouth. “Good night, Malleus.”

He lets out a content sigh. “Good night.”

It’s the best sleep you have had in a long time.

---

“Check mate.” The queen smiles. “My, it almost feels like you let me win, Lilia.”

The former general chuckles. “Of course not, my queen. I was merely distracted.”

She waved her hand and the pieces moved back to their original spots. “That doesn’t sound like you at all. What’s on your mind?”

Leaning back in the chair, Lilia regards her with sharp eyes. “Something about the day Malleus was kidnapped by a demon crow has been bothering me. You see, I remember distinctly that you were in the garden having tea. And from where you sat, you could easily see what was happening.”

“Hmm… I was enjoying such a lovely new blend on that day,” she sighs at the memory.

“Well, I’m sure being as powerful as you are, my queen, you could have easily taken down the creature. Yet, if I remember correctly, you just looked on.” Lilia leans forward placing his folded hands under his chin. “Could it be that you wanted Malleus to be taken away?”

A single eyebrow goes up. “Are you accusing me of orchestrating my grandson’s kidnapping?”

“Kheehee… Just thinking aloud.” He bows his head with a grin still on his lips.

She reaches for a pawn while chuckling, “Well, if I did play a hand in that, it’s worked out better than anyone could imagine. However, those two need to figure out the rest for themselves.”

“Oh? No more meddling?” He slides a pawn forward.

She returns his grin with a wicked one of her own. “Only if I think it’s necessary. Though, it looks like they’re on the right track.”

Tagging: @starsilluminateourgalaxy @stormyovent0aster @hanafubukki @mscarterakaviola98 @sparkleypancakez @youaskedfurret @yokokai @hajimeseyo @ravenlking @peter-the-pan @enchanted-nerd @nocturneabyss @chaasworld @lechuko @bloomsapphire @amar-farashaa @itszzmoon @xlifexdeathx @supernovaicloud @mysterypotatoink @illytian @depressed-bitchy-demon @cheyuma @liquidfurby @bigcandlesmolbrain @thetruepair @chibishae34 @strawberry-soap-bar @sus0daddy @inana-mm @liliaviper @musclefanatica @loivre @chuchotheblackcat @lorkai @ennonzi @yo4sblog @aloodonut @deepdinosaurwizard @zozoni @nightqueensk @barbatos-mybeloved

#twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #reader insert #scenario

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shortnotsweet · 2 months ago

Note

Henry Danger Anon again and I AGREE I have a lot of thoughts about the more serious repercussions Ray's behavior had on Henry and the others as a whole. My biggest white whale is Henry's sense of self and identity and how he probably doesn't have a lot of it having grown up the way he did like. His parents were pretty dismissive of him but expected him to be the responsible one in a lot of situations. Paired with Ray's attitude and how Henry in his shoes as Kid Danger was expected to help everyone and always be okay/never have time for himself...Part of me imagines that he used it as a distraction to not have to think about finding himself, but it stunted him as an adult. Like he didn't have anything going for him in his mind so, he figured helping others would do something to help fuel his ego and self satisfaction. Growing up away from Swellview after he moves to Dystopia feels like it might've been a really big rush for someone who had to grow up so fast. I have an image in my mind of henry in a high rise apartment in dystopia leaning off of the balcony, watching the world go on below him. In the city nightlife light he smokes a cigarette and watches a woman get robbed in the street below him but he just watches, not being able to find enough in himself to do anything about it when its all he does day and night. i think it would consume him in a really weird way. Like a portrait of that man everyone fully expected him to become is always hung over behind him and he knows its what everyone sees, but he can't see it no matter how much he tries so how is he supposed to become it? or if he sees it in the mirror its distorted and questionable, and is it something he'd want to become? Sorry that got long fhgh I have so much opinions on Henry Danger

Ah don’t apologize!! I love, love, love this, you’re so big-brained, I agree 100%. You pointing out that Henry’s “stunted as an adult” because his own identity is so tied up in service is right on target, and something explored in a lot of Batfamily fics to great effect; I don’t think Henry Danger is quite as expansive or poignant as the DCU lol, but it takes a lot of cues from the Batman-Robin dynamic—probably Dick and Jason, most directly. The intersection of ego and intrusion with civic duty makes for overworked, moralistic children become jaded and stunted adults. If all you are is the labor you provide in relation to your maker, the only way to commit meaningful labor is to break away and remake yourself. There’s a suspense and gleeful disappointment in the fact that troubled children who grow into troubled adults rarely make themselves into something that their maker (their father, their agent, their god) would approve of, if not for the sake of ego alone. I think in his weakest moments Ray believes he’s a benevolent god wearing human skin, and at his best he knows he is disconnected from those around him but doesn’t have the awareness to properly mourn. There’s not enough grief in him. Most of that goes to Henry.

I think there’s something really sick and sweet and sad about making someone in your image, because the question of legacy is no longer about linear impact but the pain of impression—something I’ve mentioned in a few of my little comics, or fic comments, is how Ray’s relationship to Henry is canonically ambiguous. I feel it’s because he’s so many (and too many) things to him: pseudo-father figure, best friend, coworker and employer, mentor and rival, celebrity and ideological guide. He can’t be all of those things to him at once, not well, because there’s no good way to be someone’s best friend AND employer, a stranger and the kernel of consciousness. What is he is to Henry is too much, and that proximity can’t result in anything other than disillusionment. Of course his life was uprooted, of course life can’t exist in technicolor, of course we grow up and realize that those we revered aren’t gods, but people made of flesh that ages and rots like everyone else’s. Henry can’t go to college!! Henry can’t connect with his peers in a conventional way, Henry’s own friends become embedded in this life and ultimately fail to escape it!! It all ends and begins with Ray and the peculiarities of Swellview that have enabled this strange dynamic to begin with. It is too much to expect someone to make peace with it.

I described this sort of feeling, I think in one of my prior depictions of this disillusionment, as “sliding into apathy”, wherein Henry doesn’t lose his morals or his sense of right and wrong. The bitterness is that he still has that sense—that urge to do good, to find purpose, to fit into the cosmic logic of the universe—but he knows better now. He’s older. He’s tired. He’s not what he thought he’d be, and even so, the world remains as it is. Most of the little comic/texposts are shakily compliant with one another, with the main commonality being a running thread of dissatisfaction and a sort of weariness. In some of them, Ray is portrayed as a conceptual threat, or something that is explicitly endangering Henry to the point of psychological and emotional distress. There’s a dual failure: Ray claims he wanted Henry to grow into a replacement for the mantle, whereas Henry wants to grow into a version of himself. In the end, Henry doesn’t have a self separate from the echoes of those expectations, and all along Ray envisioned a stagnant future where neither of them would be required to grow at all. Ray can’t stop change—nature, which is change, which means Ray is not a god and subject to the same eventual loneliness as all other flesh people because he cannot dictate Henry stop growing or which direction he grows into—but Henry needs it more than anything. There are no heroes anymore, just yourself. That’s the most terrifying comfort either can find.

#henry danger #henry hart #ray manchester #captain man #dangerverse #kid danger #my art #wip so not complete but based somewhat on that fantastic description #i have a version of this with more of a scene and color but this was the basic outline i started with bc of course there are #withdrawl symptoms to vigilantism post boyhood. what is disillusionment if not the journey from boy to man #ty ty anon i think about this often

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soxcietyy · 11 months ago

Text

Temptation

Chapter 3 -> Chapter 4

Your dad is tired of you bringing home these unworthy men. None of them being fit to take care of you or to be given the family business since you are the only daughter. He decides to find you someone fit to be your husband and receive help from the father of the church. That’s when you meet Yuta, though just because he goes to church doesn’t mean he’s much of a saint

Mafia, murder, violence, mentions of religion, (will contain other things in the next chapters)

"We’re going to get married father." Yuta says as the both of you sat down in front of him. He sat in his chair with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. Clearly not asking him but telling him his plans.

You turned to look at Yuta in shock as the words fell out his mouth. The hairs standing up on your body but you couldn’t tell if it was because the room was a bit chilly. You couldn’t quite grasp the idea of you guys getting married so soon. You guys had just met not even two days ago and he’s already attempting to get married?! You look back at the father to see if he had anything to say about this bizarre request. You doubted he would even go through something like this. Marriage was something really serious and something to not be played with. It took people month, even years to decide if they want to be married.

He looked at Yuta before sighing and taking out a really old broken down planner. Using his shaking skinny finger he guided himself through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

"Next month Saturday is available."

You stood up abruptly making the both of them look at you. "Father don’t you think it’s too soon? I mean we just agreed on being in a relationship yesterday." Both of the men looked at each other communicating with just a blink. You could see Yuta lift his chin up at the priest signaling for him to say something.

"Listen y/n, I think this would be a beautiful thing. A man and a woman coming together to become one. Then you’ll have kids and have a happy family. Your what? in your twenties? Our life expectancy is only sixty-six. It’s better to start off early." He says as he starts writing something down.

Yuta had yet to say another word. He’d gotten his point across and would like to not waste his breath on a meaningless conversation. Clearly you were the only one with a right state of mind. Though the way they looked at you with a look of pity made you feel defeated. You slowly descended back down to your seat. What would your dad say about this? He’ll probably be happy and will congratulate you guys on it. Everyone you know is going to be shocked when they find out you’re getting married next month.

The father ended up dismissing the both of you. You tried not looking upset but it was hard. Wrapping your hand around Yutas arm you walk down the pavement. He could tell you were upset but he really didn’t know how to deal with such an issue. Though if he wanted to get married without a problem he would have to learn how to deal with you and your feelings.

Stopping his steps, he grabs you and sits you down on the concrete part of the fountain. Water sprinkled on your hands as the water from the fountain fell.

"What’s wrong sweetheart? Are you upset because I want us to get married?" He asks.

You knew how horrible it would sound if you said yes. You also couldn’t bare to see his upset face at all. But you didn’t want this relationship to be built off of lies. Relationship where about communicating, getting along and understanding each other.

"Yuta, don’t you think this is too Soon? What if we’re not compatible for each other?" You say as he caressed your cheek.

You somehow melt into his hand and enjoy his warmth. The sun shines brightly over you guys making his dark blue eyes seem lighter. His dark and scary mask he wore seemed to have melted off.

"Do you want me to tell you the truth? But you can’t get mad at me okay?" He runs his thumb under your eye.

You nod at him as you put your hair behind your ear.

"Your dad has some thugs after him and well obviously they’re going to be after you too. He wanted us to get married so I could provide protection for you. You know he has a lot on his plate right now and I’m just trying to help him out." Yuta study’s your face carefully, trying to read you like a book.

"So you’re just with me because of that?" Your eyes begin to water.

You felt like such an idiot thinking he liked you. Him and your dad had played you like a fool.

"No- obviously not , I fell for you the second I saw you at church, When you shook my hand, when I bought you that rosary. I fell harder when we had a conversation. When I met your dad I was trying to convince him to let me have a chance with you. He then told me his situation and lucky for him because I had all he wanted. Someone he knew that would keep you safe."

He brings you into a hug and pats the top of your head. "If people know you’re married to me then they won’t lay a finger on you or your father." He says soothingly. "I know you wouldn’t want to see him hurt."

"But what if we end up divorcing?" You look up at him with a sad look.

"I don’t believe in divorces sweetheart, I’d be an idiot to let you go."

You hug him hard, maybe he wasn’t such a bad person after all. He was looking out for you and your family. Not just any man would take such responsibility. Maybe it was love at first sight. You move your hands down his body and feel something hard on his right side. Backing up you open his coat to see a gun snugged in there.

Yuta looks down at it, "emphasizing on the protection" he smiles and closes his coat back up quickly.

You wernt the biggest fan of weapons. To be honest they scared you. How could something so small create such an impact of someone’s life? Why were they so easy to acquire? Something so deadly should be locked away.

You watch as he grabs something from his pocket and get on one knee. Opening it he reveals a ring inside. "I’m sorry I couldn’t make this as special as any girl would want. I’m not good at things like this." Yuta says. "But will you marry me?"

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Not because you thought this was stupid but this was a really poor attempt. A girl would be enraged if they were to get proposed to like this. Thankfully you were that easy to keep happy. You tell him yes as you throw yourself onto him. His breath being halted by your chest that squash the side of his face. He slips the ring on you immediately before he could loose it. He stood up and kissed you so passionately that the two of you almost ended up falling in the water fountain.

"You’re going to be quite busy this month with planning our wedding." Yuta says as he lifts you up and walks you to the car.

"What? are you not going to help?" You ask

"I am but I want to give you the opportunity to make this wedding to your liking." He grabs your hand and kisses it.

When you got back to your new home you ran upstairs leaving Yuta to pick up everything you dropped in the entrance. That being your coat, purse, heels and Bible. You were just so excited to start planning that you went to look for a pen and any empty notebook. When you did find one in his nightstand you took it and sat on the floor that had bedding on it. Last night Yuta had slept on the floor while you slept on his bed.

"You think I’ll be able to join you on the bed tonight? My back is killing me." Yuta said as opened the door.

He put everything where it belonged and sat on the floor with you.

Last night you were getting into bed but quickly hopped right off when you noticed that Yuta was getting in the same bed as you. He had a look of confusion as he tried to figure out what he did wrong.

"We can’t sleep together until we’re married." You had said.

Yuta ignores you and proceeded to get comfortable in bed so you took one of the blankets he had over him. You then walked to the couch and laid down while throwing the blanket on top of yourself. It was important for you to follow gods word. If he had an issue with it that then it was his problem. Before you could fall asleep you felt as two arms picked you up and placed you back on the bed.

"Yuta we cant s-"

"I’ll sleep on the floor." He grumbled.

You chuckle as you looked at his tired face. He did look like he had little to no sleep last night. You couldn’t lie you did feel bad for taking his bed. The poor guy was too tall, he couldn’t even sleep on the couch.

"Marriage yu." You say as you began writing.

You watched as he stopped moving for a second and stared at you eyes wide. "What did you just call me?" He asks.

"Yu! It’s your nickname, or would you prefer honey?" You smile.

You could see his ears turning red as he turned away embarrassed. "I don’t care for such names. Call me whatever, I’ll respond."

"Well Yu, I would appreciate it if you could give me a phone book and a list of contacts we can rely on." You say.

He quickly stood up and went to look for the items.

After five hours of planning you guys decided to take a break. Who knew planning could be so draining. It made you wonder how your mom did it. Yuta ended up falling asleep leaning against the wall and you were drifting off on his lap. Closing your eyes completely you began to drift into a peaceful sleep. That was until the phone started ringing next to you. You jolt up, being awaken by the loud ringing. You quickly grab it to answer it so it would not wake up your fiancé. You felt like letting him rest since allegedly he got no sleep because of you.

"Hell-"

"Don, where are you?! We have been ambushed and have lost five men. Hakari is going to kill us if you don’t show up in an hour. He’s furious about the undergroun-"

"Sweetheart you shouldn’t be taking calls that arnt for you." Yuta snatched the phone out of your hand. You gasp at the sudden surprise but you don’t say anything. He gave you an innocent smile as he rubbed your shoulder helping you recover from the scare. You could have sworn he was dead asleep while ago.

"I’ll be there under an hour. Next time when you call me. Make sure you hear my voice before saying anything." Yuta said before slamming the phone down. Any harder and it would have broken into pieces.

He closes his eyes and lets out a loud sigh. Whatever that was about must of been bad. "I’ll be back sweetheart, need anything from the store?" He asks before kissing you.

You shake your head as you watch him grab his things. He looked pretty annoyed but any work call would be annoying. At least that’s what you figured.

—————

"What is going on here, just look at this mess." Yuta said as he walked into a casino with multiple body’s laying on the ground. Thank god it was an old abandoned one. As he walked deeper into the place he could see more and more men on the floor. He didn’t really care for them though since these guys were people who were in depth to him. He would never send his own men to do something like this unless it was urgent.

In this business world you leave the dirty work to the people who ask you for favors. That’s why he had the poor priest wrapped around his finger. The father had begged Yuta to get revenge on these some men who raped his wife. So he did, but it came with a price. That’s how he ended up with his now fiancee and how he continues getting whatever he wants.

"Okkotsu! When was the last time we’ve seen each other? Last thing I heard you was when you were about to get married." Hakari’s voice yelled out an echo following right after.

He was sitting on a chair with his legs wide open. He held a gun on his left hand and a stack of papers on the other. From the looks of it he guessed this had something to do with blackmailing. Not that Yuta cared because it wasn’t towards him. Snapping his attention back to the conversation he puts his own gun away.

Hakari was right the last time they saw each other was when he was about to get married. Someone decided to shoot his bride to be a week before the wedding. That was something he had yet to figure out who was behind it but he had to let it go. If he tried investigating it you would be questioning too many things.

"Right, how are you and your lover? Surprised they haven’t had a bullet put in between there eyes. You know, since they’re not actually a girl." Yuta leans on an old counter.

Hakari grits his teeth as he tries to think about something to fire back. "Hey man you promised to keep it hush hush. Listen you can’t keep holding that against me." Hakari throws his hands up.

If people were to see Hakari and Yuta together in public they would think they were quite close. They wouldn’t be wrong though, they’ve known each other for a long time now. Sometimes things got too heated and his lover would have to step in to calm him down. If it wasn’t for them there would be a war.

"Nobody told you to have sex in the room five minutes before OUR meeting." Yuta crosses his arms. "Ever heard about being professional Don?"

"Obviously I have, anyways sorry for your partners, had to put them out. They tried to steal things that they owe me and well they couldn’t pay it back." Hakari grabbed a wad of hundreds from his pocket and smacks on a dead person face. You could hear the harsh slapping from the impacts.

Yuta had no reason to be here at all. This seemed like a personal issue not his. Hakari throws a bottle of liquor towards Yuta which he easily caught. He turned the bottle to look at it.

"Found it, probably taste immaculate since it’s been aging in here." Hakari grins.

A couple of drinks wouldn’t hurt. He had come all this way for nothing and this whole wedding thing was stressing him. Last time his dead fiancé did all the planning. She was a beautiful young lady with a poor background. She didn’t have much to offer but Yuta didn’t mind as long as he got a kid. Unfortunately he had came home to see her hanging from the ceiling, clothes ripped off and blood smeared everywhere. Her skin pealing off slowly from being skinned. It was truly a horrible sight to see and he regrets not being a better fiancé. Hopefully he could be a better version of himself so he can keep you safe. The last thing he needed was another dead wife to be. Opening the bottle up he waterfalls a good amount before closing it and sliding it back to its owner. His friend couldn’t help but smirk.

"Word on the street is that you’ve been smiling more than you usually do." Hakari laughs as he takes a gulp of the liquor down. "And that your being so nice to everyone including your own employees."

Yuta rolls his eyes. He wasn’t much of a smiler at all actually. He was just doing it to please you and to get on your good side. He was happy to know that you were so easy to please. You talked a bit too much but it doesn’t hurt having someone to have a conversation with.

"Who’s the lucky girl?" Hakari asks.

"You’ll find out at the wedding. Can’t say much about her unless I want her to end up like the other one…" that’s when it hit him. " fuck I need to go." Yuta stood up panicked.

"Already? You just got here! Don’t tell me that woman has you wrapped around her finger." Hakari yells as Yuta walked out.

He was stupid, such a fucking idiot to leave you home alone with nobody guarding the house. Hopefully Hakari would do him a solid and clean up the place unless he wanted to get arrested. The law has been a little to quiet recently. Meaning they were surely planning something.

He speeded back home with his gun’s already loaded. Not quite knowing if he should go with a rifle or a gun that had a silencer. Would he want to be loud and let them know he was here or sneak up on them? He also had to think about all of the places anyone would hide in his house. He had to play his cards right or that was it for him. If Inumaki was here this wouldn’t be as bad but he decided to take a last minute trip to Mexico.

His heart sank when he arrived at the place. The gates were wide open. He always locks the gates no matter where hes going. Running out the car he barged into the house with his small gun out. His chest would rise up and down heavily as he scanned the room.

"Sweetheart." Yuta calls out to you.

His eyes stayed on the stair case hoping you would appear and greet him with your warm smile. Yet you didn’t and he didn’t get a response out of you either. This couldn’t be happening already, he’d just gotten with you two days ago. Checking every room he slowly made his way upstairs. Making sure to check every door, cabinet, and anything that a person could fit in. He’d then lock each door so nobody would get in the ones that were deemed safe. He finally reached the master bedroom, he didn’t know what to expect but prayed for the best. Opening it slowly he looked inside to find it empty.

For a second he felt relived until he realized the most important thing was missing. Not only that but the room was a disaster. Everything was scattered on the bed and floor. Your heels were still here and even your purse. Did they kidnap you?! He stalked across the room and grabbed the phone. As he started to dial a number he heard shuffling in the bathroom. His eyes slowly moved towards that direction as he put the phone down. Yuta opens the door and is stunned to see you naked.

"Yu!" You shout as you cover yourself.

He turned around feeling sorta embarrassed. "Sweetheart I called your name and you didn’t answer." Yuta says.

"I was taking a bath! Sorry for the mess out there. You haven’t bothered to get my clothes from home nor have gotten the chance to buy me any."

That’s right he said he was going to do that. He’ll have to send someone with you because there was no way he was going to be caught dead doing such thing for a women. If members saw him they would make fun of him for days and call him soft.

"Can you leave so I can change?"

"Right sorry." As he was heading to the door a thought came to mind. The words Hakari said before he left. Why does she think she can boss you around?

Turning around to look at you he gets a piece of clothes thrown at his face. Grabbing it he drops it on the floor and look back up at you. You were still trying to hide your body using your hand. They didn’t do much for you since he could practically see everything.

"Yuta! Get out!" You tell him with a serious look on your face.

"I don’t quite feel like it, I also need to take a bath actually." He walks towards you until you’re forced to look up at him. "You don’t tell me what to do sweetheart. Your a smart girl, what does the Bible say?"

You bite you lip not wanting to answer but alas you spoke. "Wives, be submissive to your own husbands as unto the Lord"

A smile crept onto Yutas face as he kisses you on the lips. "So let’s take a nice warm bath together." His hands land on your hips as he pulls you closer to him.

"Wives be submissive not fiancé’s." You push him back by using your finger.

"Marriage, everything has to come right after marriage right?." He runs his hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath he exhales heavily trying to keep himself composed. One month and he could drop this act. One month and he’ll be living his life like he should.

"I’m going to make a call." He steps outside.

115 notes · View notes

letsgoletsgetit08 · 2 months ago

Text

fix off pt. 1

summary: Mingi turns to every coping mechanism besides a healthy one in the aftermath of Jongho's death, two years later.

warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, su*c*de attempt, implied/referenced su*c*de, major character death, overdose, recreational drug use, religious imagery & symbolism, catholicism, barebacking, strangers to lovers, bittersweet ending, angst, hurt/comfort

pairing: priest!soft dom!Jeong Yunho x hot fucking mess!Song Mingi

author's note: HEY! Read the tags! This fic has some very heavy content! Please DO NOT READ this if mentions/discussion of suicide/attemps or character deat (RIP Jongho, so glad you're alive IRL, king) are in any way triggering to you! Also, know that myself and Ateez would be very sad if any Atiny or anyone else took their own life. Don't do it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ! !! !!! That said, this work is based on/influenced by/referencing - sometimes lightly, sometimes very directly because Phoebe Waller-Bridge is more of a genius than me - the show Fleabag. This show is personally very important to me, it both healed me in some ways and also hurt me very deeply. If you have seen the show, you know how this ends. Again, read the tags. Phoebe, if you happen to read this for whatever reason, I just hope you're flattered because of imitation and all that.

OKAY! Disclaimers disclaimed, please let me know if I missed anything. And with that, please enjoy. This one is kind of my baby. I hesitated to even post it here because I'm a little scared of how it will be received but you never know until you try, right? Comments, likes, & re-blogs are always welcome, but please be civil.

word count: 23,480

ao3 link: fix off

fix off

It's hard not to spiral.

Chest constricting, breath becoming shallow.

Mingi tossed the bar rag onto the counter and dismissed himself to the bathroom.

Cold water splashed on his face.

Not cold enough. Need some ice.

He thought he had seen Jongho. Which was impossible.

His friend had died nearly two years ago now.

He died two years ago.

Mingi composed himself enough to go back and sling espresso martinis to faceless patrons. Turning on his disarming charm enough to make decent tips.

Coping.

Back home, laying in bed, Mingi got off while watching the news. Contemplated texting his ex.

He was a little offended that she hadn't come back yet.

She always came back.

It was one of the only constants in his life, repeating the cycle of breaking up with Yuji when she became too overbearing, trying to be too serious.

“It feels like you only want to be with me for the sex.” She had accused him of it a thousand times if she had done it once.

“My friends really like you, too.” Mingi half-heartedly defended himself. She'll hate to hear that.

“Do you like me, Mingi? Because I'm trying. I want to take care of you.”

“I'm not a child.” Mingi pouted.

“You're the only person who believes that.” Yuji turned to go, taking his lack of response to her question for what it was, “I'm not coming back, Mingi. Not again.”

She'll be back.

She wasn't.

The next time he'd seen her, six months later, she had actually looked happy, something he honestly couldn't say during the times they had been together. Ring on her finger, hand around the bicep of a man Mingi vaguely recognized.

Mingi saw her. Caught her eye.

She's going to walk over.

She walked over and introduced her fiancé, “This is jfodwjjfow.”

He wouldn't remember the man’s name anyway, why bother to hear it when it was said the first time.

“So good to meet you, Jeff.” Definitely not his name. “Wish I could stay but I really have to be going.”

He barely noticed the confused expression on her face as he dashed away.

Two Years Ago

"You know that guy who comes in on Tuesday nights and sits at the end of the bar?” Jongho asked, looking up at Mingi with a devious grin.

"Tall guy who drinks red wine and looks like he wants to eat you?” Mingi teased him.

"Shut up, no way! He's probably looking at you. Everyone looks at you.” Jongho meant it as a compliment.

"Well they should look at you because I will just chew them up and spit them out.”

"Why else would God give you such big teeth?” Jongho skirted out of the way before Mingi could smack his ass with the bar towel.

"Do I have big teeth?!” Mingi was hurt.

"No!” Jongho stayed a few feet away, out of the line of fire, “No! I'm sorry, your teeth are fine!”

"I'm hideous!” Mingi whined.

“Hush, Mingi. You're perfect.” Jongho sighed, “Nevermind about that guy, anyway. I have my hands full with you already.”

“You love it.” Mingi shot him an innocent smile.

“Of course I do.” Jongho poked his cheek, “Who else will?”

A Tuesday. Probably.

“Mingi, promise me you won't be late tonight.” Seonghwa’s voice was stern, pleading over the phone.

Mingi had taken the call while riding Soobin's dick. Or maybe it was Seungmin. He couldn't remember. He'd just been calling him “baby” since he came over.

He was Hongjoong’s accountant.

“I won't.” He would. “Promise.” He shouldn't.

It was Seonghwa’s debut as Marius Pontmercy in an off-broadway production of Les Misérables. A big deal. He would finally be catching his big break.

“Okay, good because I really want everyone there.” Mingi faltered at the implication of the word. Like they were complete without Jongho. “It's very important to me. And I don't want to be embarrassed by you walking in late, I'm not even sure they will let you-”

“Yes, I know, Hwa.” He panted, Baby's hips bucking underneath him, “I'll be there.”

He’s noisy. Loves nipples.

“What are you doing? You sound out of breath?” Seonghwa’s voice was verging towards hysterical.

“Just out for a run!” Baby let out a moan that Mingi knew carried through the phone.

“Ew, Mingi! That is disgusting-”

“Fuck, yes, Soobin!” Mingi couldn't help but cry out, ending the call as the man nailed his prostate.

Soobin filled the condom inside him, Mingi followed quickly behind, collapsing to his chest.

“It's Seungmin, asshole.” The man pushed Mingi off of him and cleaned himself up, gathered his things to leave, shirt on inside out.

He’s probably going to realize he’s actually straight now.

Mingi got off to the memory of the scene again, later, in the shower.

He was only twenty minutes late to Seonghwa's debut that night. Tears streaming down his face at the performance. His friend was beautiful. The musical was one of his favorites.

I’m a total sap.

He wished Jongho were there to see it.

Seonghwa let himself be hugged backstage after the show, a rare treat, even letting Mingi linger for a beat before pushing him off, accepting the flowers he held out to him.

My bouquet looks pathetic next to the others. He’ll hate it.

“Didn't want it to go to your head too much.” Mingi quipped, joking about his bouquet.

“Thankfully, no one else had your same mindset.” Seonghwa was probably joking but his words stung. He studied Mingi’s face, not seeming to know how to help in the moment, instead, turning his attention to the rest of their friends, Hongjoong sidling up to his side as Mingi stepped away. “Let’s get everyone in for a picture.”

Everyone.

The word was repeated all night, at dinner afterwards, at the bar after that. Ringing in Mingi’s ears.

Mingi coped in one of the only ways he knew how.

Drink after drink, not knowing what was what, just that it had alcohol.

Everyone will be mad at me by the end of the night.

He had gotten too loud and apparently said something to upset Seonghwa. Not hard to do. Hongjoong scolded him, staying composed as he asked him to leave.

Yeosang sweet Yeosang ended up under his arm, guiding him to the curb outside of the bar, waiting on the Uber.

“What's wrong with me, Sangie?” Mingi slurred, ignoring how Yeosang’s body tensed when his head fell to the other's shoulder.

He's going to say nothing is wrong with me. They always do.

“Nothing is wrong with you, Mingi.” His voice was sweet, deep, soothing.

“Everyone hates me.” Mingi whined.

“No one hates you, Ming.” Yeosang wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “You just feel your feelings out loud. And you have a lot of them. Wooyoung is similar, but he has a San to regulate him.”

“I don't have anyone.” Mingi sobbed.

“You do, Mingi. You just push us away. And I get it. No one can take Jongho's place. He was that for you, wasn't he?” Yeosang asked gently.

Mingi didn't answer but sat up, looking at Yeosang.

He is so pretty.

Mingi leaned in for a kiss.

Yeosang stopped him with a hand, “No, baby. You're drunk. You don't actually want to do this.”

What the hell did Yeosang know?

He was right. Of course.

“Sorry.” Mingi mumbled.

The Uber pulled up and Yeosang helped him inside, instructing him to drink some water when he got home.

He should have asked for Yeosang to help him. He would have done it.

I should ask.

He should ask.

But he always pushed them away.

Mingi hated riding in cars. He gripped the seat for dear life the entire drive.

There was no one to make sure he didn't drown in a pool of his own vomit. The thought hit him somewhere on the ride home.

He wouldn't drown in a pool of his own vomit.

He hadn't yet.

I need a grilled cheese and a cigarette.

Two Years Ago

The Tuesday man was leaning across the bar as far as it would allow, flirting with Jongho. Mingi felt pride swell in his chest. They were cute. He was sweet, making Jongho blush, calling him pretty.

Bastard.

He hated sharing Jonho. Yes, the seven of them were friends, but he and Jongho were close outside of that. If he were asked to trade the six others for Jongho, he would. Easy. No one got him like Jongho did. Mingi felt a little like he had raised the man, with him being a little over a year younger than himself. He knew it had to be hard being the youngest in a friend group. He wanted to make sure Jongho had someone. They were roommates in college. It stuck. Had worked at the same bar together ever since.

In a lot of ways, though, Jongho had taken care of Mingi, too. Through heartbreaks and the general ups and downs of life.

He loved him more than anything.

Naturally, he was a little possessive of his friend. But he also wanted him to be happy.

He pushed down the acidic, curdling sensation in his chest. Let him be happy.

Mingi would be there for him when he inevitably let him down.

A Thursday? Maybe??

Wooyoung had talked him into hot yoga.

“It will be good for you, I promise!” Wooyoung sing-songed as they walked into the studio.

San probably loves the fact that he’s into yoga.

The studio was sweltering, they weren’t misadvertising, that’s for sure.

“I feel like I’m going to die.” Mingi complained.

“Shut up and take your shoes off.” Wooyoung instructed.

Not the first time he’s said that line.

“Buy me dinner first.”

“You need therapy.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

Tried that, didn’t work.

His therapist said that he was projecting his grief for Jongho onto what really was daddy issues. Or something like that. He really hadn’t paid too close attention. He had fucked his therapist after a few sessions though.

After sweating buckets and nearly pulling a muscle to keep from slipping and busting his face open, he thanked Wooyoung for inviting him and made him promise to never do it again.

On the way out of the studio, a bus was unloading.

Tuesday guy.

Mingi locked eyes with him as he hopped off the bus. Time stood still.

The man nodded and Mingi darted in the other direction, Wooyoung chasing after him.

He finally caught up, “Hey, what the fuck!”

“Sorry!” Mingi clawed his fingernails into his palms, “Forgot I liked the smoothie place on 7th better than the one on 9th.”

A lie.

“Well damn, you could have just said something!” Wooyoung scolded him, mostly playfully but still seeming perturbed at Mingi’s odd behavior.

Two Years Ago

Jongho was off that night. Tuesday guy sat in his same spot.

Mingi tested him.

Tuesday failed.

Took Mingi to his apartment after work.

Fucked Mingi senseless into his mattress.

Fucking Tuesday.

He never learned his real name.

But he would never have called him by it anyway.

Mingi’s dad had cheated on his mom.

Any given day of the week, honestly, does it really matter?

The bar was dead that night and Mingi didn’t bother to fight to close with his new coworker. Let himself be cut early so that he could go home.

He texted the group chat on his walk home.

Got cut early. Anyone wanna meet up?

He waited for replies. None came in. No one had even read the message.

Fine then.

He walked aimlessly around the city, finally landing on a park bench, staring out over the lake. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

The sun was setting and he watched it paint the sky pastel.

He dialed Jongho’s number.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

Again.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

Interrupted.

“Anyone sitting here?” A feminine voice, light German accent. He looked up.

She had stick-straight dyed red hair to her shoulders, microbangs, piercings, and was more tattoo than skin.

“No, sorry. Just um.” He looked down at the phone in his hands, “On the phone.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She raised a sharp eyebrow at him. He spotted a tongue ring when her mouth was open.

“I don’t know. Sorry.” He blinked at her. Clocking that he had just done it again.

She studied him, “Hm. You’re sweet, aren’t you?”

He shrugged.

“Pretty lips. I like you. If I take you to my place, you can’t murder me, okay?”

She looks more like she would be the one to murder me.

“Okay.” He agreed.

Looks like I have plans tonight after all.

“Oh, you’re going to be fun.” She smiled, standing up and offering her hand to help him up. He followed her like a lost puppy to her apartment.

The Germans are known for their open-mindedness in the bedroom. I should have remembered that.

He was tied to her bed from all four corners, wrists and ankles secured. Cock leaking pathetically onto his stomach. She walked around the bed, strutting in her elaborate black lace lingerie, pulled the blindfold down over his eyes.

They had discussed it briefly on their way over. Limits, safe word (tiramisu), and the light system.

Green light. Green light. Green light.

He felt the bed shift as she crawled between his legs, fingers dancing over his skin as she teased him everywhere except where he wanted it.

“So desperate already for me, aren’t you, Mingki?” Her accent added an extra percussive affect to his name.

“Yes, goddess.” He breathed.

With no warning, she began licking his cock from base to tip, guiding it into her mouth without even touching it with her hands. The tip of it hitting the back of her throat immediately.

I'm way too well hung for someone to be able to do that so easily.

She worked him expertly, slow at first, then picking up her pace until she estimated he was close to his peak, a faint pop as she pulled off of his dick. He squirmed, searching for any sort of touch, wanting to cum so badly. He heard her chuckle, “Oh, no, mein liebchen, it won't be that easy.”

He whined and pouted, cut short as she positioned herself above him, rolling a condom on and applying lube before lining herself up and taking him in one go.

I'm way too well hung for someone to be able to do THAT so easily.

She sat still, cockwarming him until he couldn't take it, sweat breaking out on his forehead, hips bucking, which earned him nothing besides sitting up so that only his tip was inside of her. He couldn't reach, no matter how hard he tried, to enter her any further. Eventually, she lowered herself ever so slightly, once he stilled his movements, proving he could be patient. She bounced up and down, tiny movements, only taking the first few inches of his length. Normally, he would be slamming his hips at breakneck speed by this point but he felt more turned on than ever before as he was brought to the edge again, only for her to pull off at the last second.

She was straddling his face seconds later, “Me first, then we'll revisit you. If you can manage to get me off.”

“Yes, godd-hmmmpph” she cut him off by placing her wet cunt on his face. The lube was strawberry flavored and he ate devotedly, like it was the last supper.

I'm not even religious!

He focused hard, listening for little moans and the involuntary twitch of her hips to guide him in knowing what she liked. It was so much harder to gauge with a blindfold on, but just as his jaw was aching so bad he thought he might have to give up, cock throbbing and leaking precum into the condom, she finally came, crying out at her release.

“What a good pet.” She panted, moving back down to his cock again, taking him in one go and grinding her hips evilly, swiveling them but not letting him fuck into her still. “You can't cum until I come on your pretty cock, understood?”

“Yes, goddess, please let me make you come.” He begged, surprising himself.

She fell forward bracing her hands on his chest as she fucked herself on his dick. He almost lost it as he finally felt her clench around him, moaning at her second release, then surprising him by removing the blindfold.

“Eyes on mine and beg me for it.” She demanded.

“Please let me cum, goddess, please I'll do anything, please, please, goddess, I-” she stroked him with her pussy, as he begged until she was satisfied, tears streaming down his face.

“Okay, since you asked so nicely.” She stilled her hips, “Go ahead and use me, you filthy boy. So desperate.”

He cried out as he tried to get a better range of motion to fuck her. She didn't help at all, but he was already on a razor wire, and soon he was cumming hard. She dismounted as soon as she felt his orgasm start, ruining it. He whimpered pathetically, not feeling satisfied, not enough cum leaving his body.

She chuckled, “What's wrong, my little pet? You wanted to cum. I let you cum.”

He couldn’t answer, genuinely crying now.

“Color, Mingi?” She asked, seeming concerned.

“Green!” He sobbed.

“Good.” And she removed the condom, his dick still hard. She stroked up the underside with one steady finger until his hips were bucking pathetically again, then she gripped him genuinely, working him to a real release this time. The sound that escaped his chest was something he was sure had never left his body before, thick ribbons of cum hitting his stomach and chest, covering her hand.

“Thank you! Fuck, thank you.” He cried as she worked him through it.

She made sure he got proper aftercare when they were done. He stood in her doorway, staring at his shoes, voice barely above a whisper, “Can I… um. See you again?”

She smiled sympathetically, “No, so sorry, darling. I only ever do this once with someone.” She tapped his cheek, “Best of luck out there. I really did have a good time.”

“Okay.” He sighed, “Thank you again.” And he turned to leave, feeling emptier than ever as he walked home.

Two Years Ago

Jongho was a mess when he got to work that day, dark circles under his eyes. Mingi clocked it immediately, dragging him to the walk-in cooler to talk.

“What's wrong?” He asked, trying not to panic, certain he was found out.

Jongho never cried. It ripped Mingi’s heart in half. “He fucking-” Jongho choked on a sob, “I don’t know what I did wrong! I-” He buried his face into Mingi’s chest, “He told me he cheated on me and then-” A huge sniffle, struggling to catch his breath, “He said he couldn’t live with the guilt and he broke up with me! I don’t know what’s wrong with me-” Another wave of sobs racked his body.

“Shh, come on. You can’t work like this. Let’s get you home.” Mingi pulled him to his side, guilt spilling down his spine like ice water.

Back at their apartment, Mingi spent all night taking care of Jongho, wrapping him in a blanket on the couch and letting him talk things through. Three bottles of wine between the two of them. He had no clue why Tuesday hadn’t told Jongho the full truth. He was too scared to do it himself. Instead, he let the gravity of his sin guide his actions, coddling his friend to try to make up for it.

They ended the night curled up in Mingi’s bed together, Jongho still crying softly as he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the bed beside Mingi was cold.

He had thirty missed calls on his phone. None of them were from Jongho.

He panicked, calling the last person who had called him back.

“Mingi, thank god.” San’s voice was thick, clearly he had been crying.

“What happened?” Mingi’s voice was strained, anxiety eating him alive.

“Mingi… It’s Jongho.” San took a shuddering breath, “He’s- he’s gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’? There’s no way. He was upset but I’m sure he just turned his phone off and he’ll be back here any time with a pack of cig-” Mingi refused to believe what he had just been told.

“No, Mingi.” San cut him off, “They found him. His car, it was-”

“No! You’re wrong!” Mingi was in denial, verging on hysterics, “They’re wrong, they need to check again! He’ll be back any minute!”

“Mingi…” San sobbed. He heard him mutter something about not being able to do this as the phone was passed to someone else.

“Mingi. I need you to take some deep breaths and calm down.” Hongjoong’s voice was surprisingly gentle over the phone, but commanding enough to make Mingi stop sputtering nonsense that he knew, deep down, was all untrue.

“I’m sorry.” Mingi felt tears begin to streak down his face, “I’m sorry. I’m listening.”

“Hwa is ordering you an Uber. We should all be together right now. You need to get dressed and be downstairs in ten minutes, okay?” Hongjoong’s voice only wavered slightly.

“Okay.” Mingi hung up the phone.

Once he was at Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s apartment with the others, they filled him in on everything they knew, which truthfully, was very little.

Jongho indeed had alcohol in his system, according to the coroner, but having known him, he had a pretty high tolerance. It wasn’t certain he had been too drunk to drive. He had left no note, but the way the crash had happened, it almost looked intentional.

There was no way of knowing now, of course.

Mingi filled them in on why Jongho had been upset. Not the full story. He didn’t think he could ever admit that to anyone. Even with the added context, the friends all silently agreed that it had been an accident. The alternative was far too painful.

The pit in Mingi’s stomach begged to differ. The doubt that lingered would never leave him. Not even for a moment.

Seonghwa’s Bachelor Party

Mingi felt especially proud of himself, walking up to Seonghwa’s apartment - his fiance would be staying at a hotel that night - knowing what surprise he had planned for the night.

He’s going to do backflips.

The stripper he had hired was around Hongjoong’s height, pretty dark brown hair, wide, soulful eyes. Mingi had picked him out himself, wanting the surprise to be absolutely perfect.

When he stepped inside the apartment, his stomach dropped.

I really shouldn’t have muted the group chat.

He was under dressed in slacks and a sweater. Everyone else was in suits. More than just their close friend group was there, too. A memory niggled at the back of his mind, vaguely remembering reading a text saying Seonghwa’s more conservative cousins would be in town from Korea. They were staying for a few months before the wedding, through the holidays, since the wedding was on New Years Eve, treating the trip like a long vacation.

Mingi tried to turn around to back out, wanting to call the booking agency immediately to cancel the stripper, but Wooyoung spotted him, looking relieved to have an excuse to leave the conversation he was having with a particularly dull looking family member, making his way to Mingi in just a few strides, pulling him into the living room.

“Thank fuck!” Wooyoung whispered into his ear, “That guy was talking about the stock markets and I thought I was going to die.”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Mingi couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

“He got got, too!” Wooyoung jutted his chin out, gesturing towards the kitchen, where San was sequestered by three cousins, eyes pleading as he met Wooyoung’s gaze.

Mingi cackled as he saw San mouth “Help!”

A punch on his arm from Wooyoung startled him, “Why are you underdressed?”

“I muted the group chat! You guys talk so much.”

“Well some of it is important, dumbass!” Wooyoung scolded him, “You better not be planning anything stupid tonight.”

“What!” Mingi tried to look surprised, “I would never! I’m just here for Seonghwa.”

“Yes?” Seonghwa had heard his name and was headed towards them, “Mingi, why are you underdressed?”

“I’m sorry! I can’t read, you know that.” Mingi whined, trying to sound innocent.

“Just, please, please don’t do anything stupid tonight. It’s already tense with my family here, I had to bribe them to even come to the wedding by promising we would get married by a Catholic priest. Neither of us wanted that, but no offense, I didn’t want my wedding to just have you guys and all of Hongjoong’s family.”

“We’ll be good, Hwa. Promise.” Wooyoung offered.

“It’s not you I’m worried about. I need the princess to survive the night without making it all about himself.” Seonghwa snipped, then his face fell, looking a little remorseful, “Sorry, that was harsh, I-”

“No, no.” Mingi pretended it hadn’t hurt him to hear, “You’re right. I promise I’ll be good, tonight is all about you and making your weird, boring cousins happy.”

As it turned out, keeping his weird, boring cousins happy was a tall order. They didn’t want to play drinking games - they barely wanted to drink, they didn’t understand Mingi’s sense of humor, and when they weren’t talking his ear off, they seemed to be treating him practically as wait staff, asking for more of the snacks from the kitchen, or another beer, or what his beliefs on the afterlife were. The latter of which he dodged, making a lame excuse of needing to pee.

Mingi had snuck off to the bathroom attached to the primary bedroom, searching through Hongjoong’s side of the cabinets, hoping that the man still had a bit of a fun side. Exclaiming in excitement when he found a little bag of weed gummies buried carelessly under other over-the-counter meds and random, clearly forgotten about toiletries.

He figured they were probably old, so he popped two in his mouth before even reading what the label said. 25mg/piece.

Fuck. Well. Too late now.

He spotted an old bottle of Xanax, giving it a shake to see it was almost completely full. He pocketed it as well.

You never know.

When he emerged, he was rudely reminded of what he had been so worried about when he had arrived.

Yeosang was answering the door, letting a man dressed in a black, sparkly, see-through shirt, red, glittery, heart-shaped pasties covering his nipples clearly visible underneath, and loose black pants, the outline of his bulge making itself known as well. Yeosang, innocent and clueless as ever, let the man inside before Mingi could get over there to stop him.

The weed began to hit Mingi and he couldn’t make his feet move as the man turned on the bluetooth speaker in his hand and a loud, harsh techno beat took over the room, every single voice going quiet to stare.

“Who’s the beautiful blushing groom?” The man surveyed the room noisily.

Seonghwa’s cousins were stunned silent, but Yeosang still hadn’t caught on, pointing to Seonghwa, “That’s him!”

The Hongjoong look-alike stripper ripped his shirt off as he approached Seonghwa, and only then did Mingi’s brain catch up to his feet, jogging over to stop the man.

“I’m so sorry!” Mingi tried to cut him off, “There’s been a mistake, I messed up-” He let out a giggle, his weed-fuzzed brain finding the situation hilarious despite himself.

“Is this your idea of a joke, Mingi?” Seonghwa looked mad, hurt, and very disappointed.

The stripper was not tuned in to the conversation and had started trying to dance for Seonghwa.

“No! I’m sorry! It’s not a joke, I didn’t read the group text and I was going to cancel-” Mingi touched the stripper’s shoulder, trying to pull him off, “Hey, can you please stop that, you need to go, I’ll pay-”

“HEY!” The stripper yelled, “No touching! That’s literally the first rule you agreed to when you booked me!”

“Mingi, get the fuck out of here.” Seonghwa scolded him.

“Hwa, I’m so sorry! I’m going, I promise-” Mingi pleaded, hands coming up to try to show his innocence, but hit the stripper’s ass on their way up.

“What the FUCK did I just say?!” The stripper wheeled on him, punching him straight in the right eye socket.

San was there in an instant, putting the stripper in a hold and froggy walking him out the door, Mingi following dejectedly behind, trying to keep the tears from spilling out as the cold air hit his face again.

“San, please, I’m sorry, he has to know it was an honest mistake.”

“Honestly, Mingi. Not right now. Just.” He huffed a long breath out of his nose, “Just save it. Okay? It’s not me you need to apologize to.”

He turned his back on Mingi, heading back inside the house.

The stripper glared up at him from his spot on the curb, holding his hand out for payment.

“Are you insane? No one carries cash.” Mingi spat at him.

“Then Venmo me, dickhead.” Not-Hongjoong instructed him.

“No! Fuck off. You ruined my night.” Mingi turned around, trying to start walking home, but was stopped when the stripper jumped on him from behind, struggling to put him in a headlock due to their height difference. It was enough to get Mingi to turn around, though, which earned him a knee to his crotch and a sickening crack of his jaw, followed by his left eye. Mingi doubled over and took off running the best he could given his current state, lip bleeding onto his sweater, ignoring the shouts from the angry stripper behind him, hating how high he was as he staggered home in the cold, the world around him not feeling real.

Back at his apartment, he drew himself a bath, placing the bottle of Xanax and his phone on the edge of the bathtub before climbing in.

His head still felt wrong from the weed. Off-kilter. Anxious. Like melting cotton candy.

He lined up the pills on the lip of the bathtub, counted them.

He read the label that time.

He took three.

Dialed Jongho’s number from memory on his phone.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

Again.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

His brain went pleasantly fuzzy.

Head falling to the back of the tub a little clumsily.

He took three more.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

He took three more.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

The words started to lose all meaning as his vision blurred and he sank further into the water.

His fingers dialed the only other number he had memorized.

“Mingi?” Hongjoong’s voice was sleepy, clearly worried.

“Everyone hates me.” Mingi sighed, slipping down further into the tub, water feeling like molasses on his skin. Everything felt warm. Sticky. Cottony.

“Why aren’t you out with Seonghwa for his party, what’s wrong?” Hongjoong asked him, voice urgent.

“I think I fucked up, Joongie.” Mingi’s voice was slow, distant, tinny, metallic and childish sounding in his own ears, tongue too thick for his mouth.

“Mingi, baby, tell me what you did.” He heard Hongjoong get up from bed, “Where are you?”

“‘M home. I love you guys.” Mingi sighed, his vision going spotty.

“No, Mingi, stay with me!” Hongjoong pleaded.

But Mingi’s phone fell into the bathtub with a subdued splash as his vision went dark.

H e y , i t ’ s J o n g h o ! L e a v e a m e s s a g e . O r j u s t t e x t m e l i k e a n o r m a l p e r s o n .

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Mingi blinked his eyes open slowly, head splitting as his pupils adjusted to the bright lights.

The unmistakable smell of disinfected hospital hit his nose. He was equal parts relieved that he was alive and annoyed that he was so incompetent he couldn’t even kill himself properly.

His muscles screamed as he turned to the left, finding an open-mouthed, haggard looking Hongjoong asleep on the rigid hospital chair next to him.

Tears streamed down his face silently as he felt himself drift back asleep.

“I swear, he didn't seem that bad when he left!” Wooyoung's voice was hushed, urgent as he defended himself.

Mingi didn't open his eyes yet, not wanting to give himself away, now very intrigued in the conversation.

“I guess the stripper must have beat him up when I kicked him out. I should have driven him home.” San's voice quivered at the end of the sentence.

“Yes, someone should have stayed with him.” Hongjoong sounded incredibly exhausted and a little mad.

“It's easy to see now, but I mean was he acting that abnormal leading up? I don't understand what set him off.” Yeosang sounded genuinely worried.

“You guys realize the anniversary of Jongho’s funeral was the day before yesterday, right?” Hongjoong asked reproachfully.

The silence was deafening.

“I knew it was soon…” San trailed off, clearly ashamed.

“I know we were all friends with him. And I'm not saying whatever friendships all of us had with Jongho weren't important or as meaningful or anything like that. I would never minimize that.” Hongjoong took a deep breath, “But it was different for Mingi. I think we all know that, deep down. And I don't think any of us have acknowledged it. We've been pretty hard on him.”

“Who exactly is ‘we’?” Wooyoung asked, his tone biting, “From my point of view, we've been pretty normal with him. The only person he's fought with is your fiancé.”

There was a pregnant pause before Hongjoong spoke again, “I- I know. Seonghwa knows, too. He doesn't mean to be hard on him�� I promise he's trying. You guys have no clue how hard he's beating himself up over this. He hasn't eaten since he heard. I'm really worried.”

“He has to know Mingi won't blame him for anything-” Yeosang started.

“He needs to grow the fuck up and get here and be supportive.” Wooyoung huffed, his tone erring on petulant.

“Baby…” San tried to calm him down.

“Sorry.” Wooyoung mumbled.

“He'll come by when he's ready.” Hongjoong said simply.

“Well try to give me warning because I really don't want to see him right now.” Wooyoung spat.

Mingi tried to stir to bring attention to the fact that he was awake, not wanting the conversation they were having to turn into a fight.

“Wooyoung-” Hongjoong said at the same time San tried to soothe him, “Jagi-”

“Guys.” Yeosang made eye contact with Mingi as he sat up in bed.

“Mingi!” Wooyoung nearly tripped over his feet to get to his bedside, San and Yeosang following behind, Hongjoong giving him a little more space.

“Youngie.” Mingi croaked, his throat incredibly parched, mouth tasting too much like mouth for his comfort.

“We're so sorry, honey.” San’s face contorted, holding back tears.

“We didn't know how bad it was.” Yeosang offered.

Hongjoong poured him a cup of water, which he took gladly, taking a sip before speaking again, “I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking stupid.” He felt tears build in his eyes again, looking over to Hongjoong, “I'm sorry you had to find me like that.”

“Mingi, no. I'm just glad I found you.” Hongjoong laid a hand on his shoulder, never being one to be very comfortable with physical affection.

“I'm so sorry.” It seemed to be the only phrase Mingi could remember how to say.

Luckily for him, the nurse came in then to check on him, taking his vitals and informing him that he had been accepted to an inpatient behavioral health hospital and that transport was being set up as they spoke.

“You're sending me to the psych ward?” His stomach dropped.

“Yes sir, we're required by law to have you admitted after a suicide attempted. You're considered very high risk right now.” She spoke as if she had delivered the same line a thousand times already that day.

“I just failed to commit suicide and I feel like dog shit!” The effort from raising his voice made him dizzy, “There’s no amount of money you could pay me to convince me to try that shit again right now.”

His friends didn't seem to know what to say

“You will just have to take that up with your psychiatrist at the hospital. I'm sorry. If you don't go willingly, the doctor will have to put you on a 72 hour hold.”

Mingi closed his eyes, seething, “Fucking… fine.”

“Okay, good. I'll let the doctor know.” She walked out of the room and no one moved until she was out of ear shot.

Wooyoung cocked an eyebrow at him, “You're really gonna-”

“Hell no. You guys have to help me get out of here. I'll stay with one of you, I promise, I just can't… please. Don't make me.” Mingi all but begged, feeling small and vulnerable like a child.

Everyone turned to Hongjoong, the de-facto leader, often thought of by his friends as the dad of the group.

He looked between the men before finding Mingi’s eyes, sighing when he saw how desperate his friend looked, “San, trade clothes with him and go distract the nurse.” He never stopped looking at Mingi while he spoke, “We're getting him the hell out of here.”

Five minutes later, Hongjoong, Yeosang, and Wooyoung surrounded Mingi from four sides, trying to obscure him from the view of anyone who might try to stop them, though it was essentially futile, considering how Mingi towered over them, giggling to themselves as they heard the nurses gasp and squeal. San had evidently just taken off his paper scrubs shirt as a distraction. They made it into the elevator and all the way downstairs undetected, within only a few hundred feet of the front door when they heard San’s out of breath voice from the stairwell yelling, “Run!”

They obeyed, taking off towards the parking lot, hopping into San's 4-Runner as he unlocked it to signal its location, though he himself was still a hundred or so yards behind, bare feet slapping on the pavement (Mingi had squeezed his feet into San's shoes) as the guards slowed their pace behind him, clearly accepting their defeat, out-paced easily by the athletic man.

Mingi felt like death as he wheezed, exhausted from the effort in the middle back seat of San's car, wedged securely between Hongjoong and Yeosang, San hopping into the driver's seat. He felt like death, yes, but he also felt more alive than he had in a long time, being the first one to crack and start laughing in the car after a moment of unsure silence. Wooyoung followed second, his high pitched wild laughter making everyone else submit to a giggle fit as well. San rolled down the windows and stuck his head out as he drove out of the parking lot, hair blowing in the chill winter air, yelling, “Nice try, bitches!” as they made their escape.

Two and a Half Years Ago

Mingi and Jongho had managed to sneak away from Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s engagement party, finding themselves in Hongjoong’s den, laying on the floor, rather cross-faded, skin still damp after coming inside from the balmy spring air that had enveloped them on the back porch.

"I can’t believe they’re finally going to get married.” Mingi sighed staring up at the ceiling.

"San and Wooyoung must be thrilled. I bet San is scheming already.” Jongho chuckled.

Mingi scoffed, “I think San has had a ring in his closet for a year at this point.”

"You’re probably right.”

Mingi turned his head to look at his friend, studying his profile, the shape of which he had memorized years ago, “First those two, then Wooyoung and San. You think everyone will expect us to get married next?”

Jongho met his gaze, “Mingi, no offense, but I will only marry you at fifty if we’re both still single.”

"Promise?” Mingi was mostly joking.

Jongho rolled his eyes, “Someday, someone will take care of us like we do each other.” He turned his head back away, “But just in case… yes. Promise.”

"Hell yeah.” Mingi pumped his arm in victory.

"You left Yeosang out of all of that, by the way. What’s he going to do?”

"I assumed he would move in with Youngie and San at some point.” Mingi deadpanned.

Jongho chuckled, “I’m honestly surprised they haven’t all moved in together yet.”

Footsteps had them craning their head to the back of the room.

Seonghwa’s arms were folded, “Did you guys plan on being antisocial all night?”

Mingi and Jongho shrugged, sitting up, Jongho helping Mingi to his feet.

Seonghwa sighed dramatically, “Please come back and join us. Act normal for once.”

“Yes, mom!” Jongho mocked.

They had to swallow their giggles as Seonghwa marched them back to the kitchen and living room, where everyone else was gathered.

The Present, October 15th

Mingi woke up, slightly disoriented, in Wooyoung and San’s guest bedroom, far too early in the morning. His face was throbbing, bruises and swelling finally going down, but still aching and tender nonetheless. He looked on the bedside table for painkillers before remembering that he hadn’t been left with any from the hospital, considering how he had chosen to depart. That, and he assumed, a cold pit in his stomach, Wooyoung wouldn’t allow him access to any meds without supervision. Really, Mingi felt zero desire to ever try to hurt himself again, but he understood that his friends were just doing their due diligence to protect him.

Embarrassment and shame coursed over him.

I'm a fucking mess.

He looked for his phone, finally finding it plugged in on the desk on the opposite side of the room.

He scrolled through and replied to messages from Hongjoong and Yeosang, telling him he was feeling fine and thanking them again for their help.

He knew it was too early for Wooyoung to get up, so he scrolled absentmindedly through his phone for a while before the pain from the wounds on his face, his split lip and bruised jaw and eye sockets, were too much to continue ignoring. He looked around in the room for any of his belongings, not finding anything except what he had worn of San’s home from the hospital.

The dresser in the corner of the room stared at him and he walked over to take a peak. Some of Wooyoung and San’s off-season clothes were in there, shorts and swim trunks mostly. But in one drawer alone, was one of Jongho’s old hoodies. Faded dark green and perfectly worn. Mingi remembered it because he had borrowed it on more than one occasion after work, on their walk home, always having been one to forget a jacket. Jongho acted like he was put out to lend it to him, but Mingi knew as well as he had, he didn’t mind a bit. Now that he thought about it, it was totally possible that Jongho had always worn it just for his sake. The man ran very hot, constantly complaining about it, even in winter.

Mingi brought the sweater up to his face, hoping it would still smell faintly of him, but knowing deep down it wouldn’t. He slipped it on, zipping it up, putting the hood on, and heading into the kitchen to try to find some coffee. After a few minutes of searching (much to his guilt, realizing that they had locked up their knives), Mingi found the necessary supplies to make coffee, rustling through the pantry for something to eat as it brewed.

“You’re up early.” Wooyoung’s raspy morning voice startled him.

“Ah!” Mingi whipped around, “Sorry, yeah. My face fucking hurts.”

“I’ll get you something.” Wooyoung gave a small smile, “Sorry, you understand why I couldn’t just leave you some-”

“Nah, I know.” Mingi waved him off, “I would do the same thing. Don’t worry.”

Wooyoung nodded, “Okay, good. I’m glad. I’ll go grab it.”

Mingi poured two cups of coffee as Wooyoung returned, handing him a steaming mug in exchange for two ibuprofen tablets.

“Thanks, man.” Mingi tossed them back, swallowing them dry, knowing the coffee was still too hot to sip on, “And thanks for letting me stay. I don’t want to put you guys out-”

Wooyoung placed his mug down on the kitchen island, his typically sharp, vulpine features turning soft, crossing over to hug Mingi out of the blue, “No way, Mingi. I’m just so glad you’re okay.” He pulled back, “I’m so mad at you, too. But it’s far outweighed by how glad I am that you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” Mingi confessed.

“Good.” Wooyoung blinked back tears, swallowing, “I couldn’t do another funeral, Mingi.”

“I know.” Mingi’s face flushed red, embarrassed at the idea of causing his friends so much grief, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“No more apologizing.” Wooyoung commanded, “You should keep it, by the way.” He nodded at the hoodie Mingi had donned.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to take-”

“Mingi, I’m sure. He would have wanted you to have it. It just makes me fucking sad every time I see it. I want to remember him in different ways other than just being sad he’s gone. Please take it.” Wooyoung’s eyes were soft as they peered into Mingi’s soul.

Mingi held his gaze for a moment, before finally nodding, “Okay. Yeah. Thank you, Wooyoung.”

“Of course, Ming.” Wooyoung sipped his coffee before turning around to retrieve a skillet from the cabinet under the island, “Let me make you some pancakes.” He stood up and cut Mingi off before he could protest, “No. I’m rephrasing that. I’m making us pancakes. And you’re going to eat them with me.”

“That sounds great, Youngie. Thank you.”

Mingi watched as the younger began to gather ingredients, pouring them into a mixing bowl and starting to combine them. Something kept clawing at the back of his mind though. He didn’t know how to breach the subject so he just asked, “Have you um… heard from Hwa?”

Wooyoung stirred a little aggressively and Mingi nearly laughed at how his jaw clenched at the mention of their friend’s name, “No. Although to be fair, I think Hongjoong made it clear he shouldn’t talk to me right now. I’ll ask San when he wakes up, but I highly doubt it.”

“Ah.” Mingi couldn’t think of anything else to say. He understood why it might be hard for Seonghwa to see him at that very moment, but he wished he knew exactly why his friend didn’t want to see or speak to him. Was it because he was mad at Mingi? For the party, or for trying to kill himself? Or was he mad at himself? Or was it all just too much for him to face? Maybe a combination?

Wooyoung poured the pancake batter into the skillet, “I can hear you overthinking. This is partially why I’m so mad at him. He’s leaving you wondering why he won’t reach out.” He waited for the edges of the pancakes to bubble before flipping them, “You know, for someone who gave you so much grief for making things about yourself, he sure does have a nasty habit of doing it himself, doesn’t he?”

Mingi snorted, laughing at how true the statement was, “I’ve always said he and I were too similar in all the wrong ways.”

Wooyoung couldn’t help but break a grin as he plated the first batch of pancakes, handing it to Mingi, “You might actually be right about that.”

Wooyoung joined him at the table a few minutes later, and it didn’t take long for them to defrost a bit as the man realized he didn’t have to handle Mingi with kid gloves. San joined them a bit later, and there for around an hour, everything felt almost normal. Like they were in college again, scarfing down breakfast at someone’s apartment after a night at the bars. It was so nice that Mingi found himself just staring, watching Wooyoung and San interact together. The two of them had become symbiotic practically immediately, nearly a decade ago at that point. He realized possibly for the first time ever, seeing how so painfully domestic and intimate the two of them were, that he wanted that with someone.

He hadn’t noticed the tear slip down his cheek until San looked at him, concern falling over his delicate feline features, “What’s wrong, Song?”

Mingi laughed at the intentionally bad rhyme, “Nothing. You guys are just cute. I’ve missed you a lot. I’ve missed this.”

Wooyoung kissed San on the cheek, “Hear that? He thinks we’re cute.”

Mingi crinkled his nose in fake disgust, “Okay less so now.”

San chuckled, “We missed you, too, Mingi.”

“We’ll make more of an effort. All of us. Promise. We all need each other and it’s time we stopped isolating.” Wooyoung looked at him a little pointedly.

“I agree.” He nodded, knowing that Wooyoung was also holding him culpable for that last part.

“Good.” Wooyoung smiled, before standing up to start clearing the table. Mingi and San helped, San explaining that he had taken the day off of work to hang out with Mingi.

“Oh, um, I mean. You don’t have t-” Mingi started, feeling once again like a child.

“Yes. We do.” San said, a little stern, but there was no resentment in his voice.

Mingi nodded, “Okay. Thank you. I’ll be glad to have your company.”

San didn’t press or try to make him talk all day, which Mingi was grateful for. They watched movies and played video games for most of the day before Mingi felt like he needed a nap. They ate together like a family once again that night.

The next couple of weeks went on like that until they started to trust him again, leaving him alone during the day while they both returned to work. Mingi wondered absentmindedly if he still had a job. His boss hadn’t even called, but maybe his friends took care of it. He wondered if he even cared. Really, he didn’t know why he had even stayed after Jongho’s accident. He could bartend anywhere. If he really wanted to continue doing so was the real question. After graduating with an anthropology degree and no desire at the time to continue his education, he had just continued to do what had gotten him through college. No reason not to, he was handsome and very good at his job. Made great money. But weirdly enough, nearly dying had him taking the first look at his future that he had bothered to take in years.

Maybe I should go back to school.

He had always liked the idea of teaching at a university level.

Seven Years Ago

"Fuck, yes, baby. Just like that!” Mingi looked up in awe as the girl he’d had eyes on all semester from his Literature class was riding his dick, letting out pretty moans. He didn’t even care if they were fake, she felt incredible.

Click-BANG!

The dorm door flew open, a completely distraught, clearly sleep deprived and hungover (possibly still drunk) Jongho barged in, only blinking as the girl covered herself and yelped, diving beneath Mingi’s navy comforter, laying herself flat to his chest.

“Mingi, I fucked up. I thought my history test was next week, you’ve gotta help me.” Jongho begged him.

“Right now?!” Mingi whined, hips still rocking under the girl whose pussy he was deliciously buried deep inside of.

“Please?” Jongho begged him, “I’ll pay for your laundry for a month, hell, I’ll do your laundry for a month, man, but please help! You’re the only one who knows anything about history.”

Mingi’s pace picked up at the compliment, hearing the girl moan as he plunged deeper, “Okay, fine, I’ll meet you at the library in twenty, and you better get coffee for both of us.”

“Thank you so much, I owe you!” Jongho packed his backpack, moving at a tortoise’s pace in Mingi’s eyes, who was barely restraining himself from moving like a hare.

“Jongho, get the fuck out of here!” He half-yelled, half-panted, grabbing the girl’s hips and beginning to slam her onto his cock, moaning as she moved her hips to match his movement.

Jongho sped up, haphazardly tossing his history textbook into his backpack and darting out of the room, saluting Mingi as he turned his back and closed the door.

"God, yes, Mingi!” The girl cried out while he rubbed her clit with his thumb, head falling back as she clenched around him. He followed moments later, spilling into the condom with a broken sigh.

In his post-nut clarity, Mingi made a surprisingly good history tutor.

Jongho had gotten a nearly perfect score on his test.

October 29th

Mingi was being given a chance to prove himself. He loved Wooyoung and San but he missed his apartment. He missed being alone, oddly enough feeling more alone around the couple than he did when he was by himself.

It didn’t help that he had decided to swear off sex for the time being. He wanted to be sharp. Clear headed.

He had decided to apply for graduate school.

There was no reason he wouldn’t get in, truthfully, but it had been a while since undergrad and he would need to get letters of recommendation from his old professors, plus take the GRE, and write an essay for his application. All of it was due in March the following year, in order for him to start at the fall semester, but he wanted to get a head start, scared to leave anything to the last minute.

He was being given a chance to prove himself by going out with his friends for Halloween. Promising to not take off, not do any drugs, and limit himself to a few drinks. Agree to go home with Wooyoung and San at the end of the night.

He could do it. He felt it in his bones as he tied up his shaggy, grown out hair for his Geto costume. He could be good.

I can be good.

Wooyoung and San were getting ready and changing into their Gryffindor and Hufflepuff costumes in their bedroom, so the knock on their door in the living room confused Mingi.

“I’ll get it!” He called towards his friends’ bedroom.

He opened the door to Seonghwa, dressed as Rey Skywalker.

Mingi offered a small smile upon seeing the look of poorly disguised worry on Seonghwa’s face, “Hey, Hwa.” He moved out of the doorway, “Wanna come in?”

Seonghwa cleared his throat, stepping through the doorway, “Thanks.”

“Wooyoung and San are still getting ready but I can go get-”

“No!” Seonghwa cut him off, voice tense, “Sorry. No, thank you. I wanted to speak with you, actually. If you’re okay with that.”

Mingi led them over to the kitchen table, knowing it to be more out of earshot to his friends’ bedroom than the couch in the living room.

Seonghwa sat down across from him, folding his hands in his lap, almost like he was trying to take up as little space as possible.

Mingi waited for him to start. Maybe he was a little petty, but he really wanted Seonghwa to be the one to start. He felt that he was justified in being a little annoyed that it had taken the man two weeks to speak with him.

“Mingi…” Seonghwa’s voice trembled immediately, “I owe you an apology.”

“Hwa, you don’t have to, I understand-”

“No.” Seonghwa’s eyes snapped up to meet Mingi’s, “You don’t understand.”

Mingi leaned back into the chair, placing his clasped hands onto the table, “Okay. I’m listening.”

“The night that Jongho…” Seonghwa swallowed, “No one knows this besides Hongjoong. But.” He breathed deep through his nose, “I had a missed call, Mingi.”

Mingi blinked as the realization hit. “You-”

“My phone was on silent. I had been on the phone with family all day, frustrated about wedding stuff. You know my parents don’t approve. It’s not an excuse… It’s been eating me alive. It’s a big reason we have postponed the wedding for so long. I’m seeing a therapist for it now but I think I was taking some of my anger at myself out on you, Mingi. Because you were with him that night. You’re a heavy sleeper and you’d been drinking. We all know that. Jongho certainly knew that. It’s not your fault you didn’t wake up when he left. I see that now. But I was deflecting my frustration with myself onto you and blaming it all on that.”

“Hwa…” Mingi wanted to tell him it’s okay. The guilt of his own secret making itself known by trying to steal the air from his lungs, stomach twisting.

“No, please.” Seonghwa blinked back tears, “Let me finish.”

Mingi nodded, so Seonghwa continued, “When I got the call from Hongjoong. Well, Mingi, it hit me that I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I almost lost you, too. After yelling at you and kicking you out of my house.” A tear escaped his eye, making slow work through the makeup on his cheek, “I almost lost you, Mingi.” He sniffed, reaching for a paper towel to dab his eyes, “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I’m so fucking glad that Hongjoong answered his phone. I should have been understanding. It never should have gotten that bad for you, Mingi, I’m so sorry.” His words started to rush out then, “I knew I should have been there at the hospital. I shouldn’t have stayed away, but honestly, Mingi, every time I thought about trying to talk to you, trying to face this, I nearly had a panic attack. Hongjoong was patient, of course, but he told me we weren’t going out tonight unless I talked to you. He was right. I’m so sorry it took this long.” He buried his head in his hands, “I understand if you can’t forgive me right away, Mingi. But I want you to know that I’m going to do better. I’m going to be there for you. I never want you to feel like you can’t come to me, or any of us. But please, please, Mingi, don’t let it get that bad again, I don’t know what I-”

“Hwa.” Mingi stood up, walking around the table, “Come here.” He opened his arms.

Seonghwa blinked at him from his chair until Mingi nodded, then his friend stood and let himself be hugged. “I’m so sorry.” Seonghwa mumbled into Mingi’s chest.

“I’m sorry, too. I never should have scared you guys like that.” Mingi admitted.

“I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.” Mingi squeezed him tighter, “And I forgive you, Hwa. If there’s one thing I’ve learned recently, it’s that we all process grief differently.” He released Seonghwa, moving back to his chair.

Seonghwa sat back down, “You sound like my therapist now.” A smile worked its way up the corner of his mouth.

“Well,” Mingi laughed, “I don’t have the right degree for that. But I have decided to apply for grad school.”

“Mingi!” Seonghwa’s face lit up with pride, “That’s amazing, honey. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks, Hwa. I love you, you know?”

Seonghwa smiled, “I love you, too, Mingi. I promise I’ll do a better job of showing it.”

“I’ll take it. Any extra love you have sitting around.” Mingi joked.

“Deal.”

“And then I’ll double it and give it back.”

Seonghwa laughed, “I know you will. You try to hide it, Mingi, but I know you’re a loverboy. Soft. Hopeless romantic.”

Mingi’s head tipped back with his chuckle, acknowledging how right his friend was, “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? I have an image to protect.”

Seonghwa stuck out his pinky, “Your secret is safe with me. Pinky swear.”

“Pinky swear.” Mingi let his finger wrap around Seonghwa’s, sealing the deal.

Hongjoong, dressed as Kylo Ren, called a few minutes later, having been waiting in the lobby of the apartment building for them. The four of them went downstairs to meet him, walking towards the subway station without being asked. Mingi was sure that they normally would have called an Uber, but they finally seemed to be acknowledging his aversion to riding in a car.

They met Yeosang, dressed as a vampire, at the bar.

Mingi did well for a while, but after a few hours out around so many people, noticing things he normally would have acted impulsively on - people discreetly exchanging small baggies of white powder, someone making eyes at him from across the bar, a woman trying to grind on him on the dance floor - added a sharp edge to the situation that he wasn’t accustomed to. He felt his heart rate begin to pick up, pounding in his ears, which had also started to ring.

His instinct was to dart off out the front door alone, but he remembered his promises to ask for help if he needed it. He searched the room, finally spotting Yeosang leaving the bathrooms.

He rushed over, grabbing his friend by the arm, “Sangie.” His grip was too tight, he knew.

His vision started darkening around the outer edges. Unable to take a full deep breath.

“Mingi?” Yeosang studied him, seeing his chest heave, eyes looking like they were having trouble focusing, “Come on, let’s get you outside.”

Mingi’s brain couldn’t make sense of his words, “Am I in trouble again?” His voice sounded small.

“No, honey, you just need some air, I think.” Yeosang looked at him more seriously, trying to ensure his words got through, “Mingi-ssi. You’re not in trouble. You need fresh air. I’ve got you, come on.”

Mingi let himself be led outside, gulping the cold air down like water as fast as he could get it inside his lungs.

“Just breathe through your nose, Mingi, you’re okay.” Yeosang instructed as he helped Mingi sit against the wall of the building.

Sobs racked his body unexpectedly, “I’m not trying to make everything about me, I swear!” Mingi looked at Yeosang, eyes pleading, desperate for his friend to understand.

“Mingi, no. No one thinks that. No one should have ever made you feel like that.” He grabbed one of Mingi’s hands, crouching in front of him, “You just got overwhelmed. It’s okay, really. I promise.”

Wooyoung and San had noticed their absence, evidently, as Mingi could hear their voices, tight with worry, coming towards them.

“Oh, thank God.” San said, sitting down beside Mingi, “Hey, you’re okay, Mingi.”

“He got overwhelmed, I think he may have been having a panic attack. But he came and found me.” Yeosang explained.

Wooyoung took Mingi’s other side, pulling his other large hand into his lap, “Good job finding Yeosang, honey.” Wooyoung squeezed his hand, “You did exactly the right thing.”

Mingi still wasn’t back to reality, but his brain had started to clear somewhat, “No one is mad at me?”

San put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him over so his head fell to his broad shoulder, “No, Mingi, I promise. No one is mad. You did the right thing. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you guys leave early-”

He heard more footsteps approaching, “Of course we’re sure.” Hongjoong’s voice, “Come on. We’re all going to Wooyoung and San’s.”

“We’ll get takeout.” Seonghwa added.

“We can watch Avatar: The Last Airbender. I know you’ve been wanting us to watch it.” Wooyoung offered.

Mingi finally sat up, tears tracking down his cheeks, “Okay, yeah. That sounds good.”

Who knew letting your friends help you would be so nice.

Back at Wooyoung and San’s place, they piled together on the couch and the floor in front, pizza slices in hand as they watched Aang and the gang fight the Fire Nation. Mingi was wedged between Seonghwa and Hongjoong and he let his head fall to Seonghwa’s shoulder as he started to get sleepy.

He awoke a few hours later to find that everyone had stayed. He was in Seonghwa’s lap, everyone else snuggled together with blankets and pillows on the carpet or curled into armchairs. It felt like a sleepover they might have had in college. His heart ached with love for his friends. Jongho would have scoffed and acted opposed to it, but Mingi smiled as he pictured the man begrudgingly staying, probably ending up cuddling close with one of them on the floor.

For once, the thought of his friend didn’t send him spiraling.

He had agreed to stay another week at Wooyoung and San’s on their way back last night. He knew it was the right call. He laid his head back into Seonghwa’s lap and fell back asleep once more.

Three Years Ago

The roof of the bar was crowded, but Mingi and Jongho had managed to carve a spot on the railing for it.

“I’m confused why we’re drinking for this particular occasion!” Jongho had to practically shout over the music and voices.

“We’re celebrating for my mom!” Mingi said it like it was an explanation. It wasn’t.

“For her getting cheated on?” Jongho was still lost.

“For my dad finally signing the divorce papers!”

“Ohhh!” Jongho nodded, “Okay then why aren’t you drinking with your mom about it?”

“Because she’s not ready to celebrate it, but I am!” Mingi held his cup up, expecting Jongho to clink theirs together.

Jongho shook his head, finally doing what was expected of him, “To cheaters! May they learn their lesson and never do it again!”

“Cheers, I guess.” Mingi laughed, confused by what exactly his friend meant. “What’s worse, the cheater or the person they're cheating on with?”

Jongho considered, “The cheater. But it really depends on how close the other person is to the situation.”

“So you don’t think cheaters should be punished for cheating? Just learn their lesson and never do it again?”

“Their conscience will be punishment enough, I’m sure. Plus, I mean, I don’t think anyone is born a cheater. Or a mistress. Criminal. Everyone has things in their past that can explain their behavior, I think. It doesn’t mean they should never live a good life just because they do something bad.”

Mingi thought about what had just been said, unable to come up with anything to rebut with. “I think you’re one of the most empathetic people out there, Choi Jongho. Good work keeping it so well hidden. I fear if anyone knew, they would just take advantage of it.”

Jongho chuckled, “Shut up.” He took a sip of his drink, “But thank you. Don’t tell anyone.”

~part two~

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