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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

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Home (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Umm... Surprise!

Double Lizzie! Here's a little something I don't think any of you expected. :)

There she was, smiling back at you. When she moved towards you, everything slowed down and when she pressed her lips to your it was like you had all the answers you ever needed to know. Forever.

Leigh pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms loosely around her, the feeling familiar.

When you pulled away you looked over Leigh’s shoulder to see Wanda smiling weakly back at you, her hand connected with someone else. Someone that wasn’t you.

Before you could look any longer, Leigh gently placed her hand on your cheek to get your attention. You smiled easily back at her. It was Leigh. It always was.

With a start, you shot up in bed, the images from your dream still flashing vividly in your mind. It was like your subconscious was telling you the path that you should take.

Suddenly, the tangled webs in your heart came undone because you knew. You knew. Even though it was going to break your heart, you knew what you had to do.

You would never forgive yourself if you didn’t.

With shaky hands, you scrambled for your phone. The simple action felt heavy as you blindly scrolled through your contacts until you landed on the familiar name. Your finger hovered over the contact, the weight of the action feeling almost impossible as your heart thrummed heavily against your ribcage. The phone rang steadily, and you were certain there would be no answer until-

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” The groggy voice floating softly into your ears. The sight of her face on your screen caused your heart rate to increase.

“Yes- No… I don’t know. I just- I needed to talk to someone and I realize how selfish it is of me to call and ask that of you, but I just-… I needed to hear your voice.”

Her voice interrupted your nervous ramblings as she sleepily rubbed her eyes. “Y/n. Breathe. It’s fine. Let’s talk.”

Hesitantly you laid back in your bed, the images from your dream still racing intensely in your mind. “Thank you, Wanda.” You mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. You quietly watched her yawn as she shifted the pillows around on her bed. “What are you doing?”

“It’s late. We can talk while I’m comfortable in bed.” She explained simply and you could see her smile slightly at your question.

All you could do was wish you were there. In her arms with your head on her chest. The study strum of her heartbeat under your ear. You held tightly to a pillow and pretended it was her instead.

For a moment silence settled into the air and you were almost certain Wanda had fallen back asleep until her voice broke up the silence. “What made you call at…” You could see her tilt her head to glance at the clock on her bedside table. “4 in the morning. Is everything okay?”

Her words were cautious. “I had a dream about you.” You eventually mumbled.

“What was it about?”

You swallowed thickly as you contemplated the answer. “In the dream, I was with Leigh and you… You were there with someone else.” You admitted. Honestly was something you valued with Wanda and she deserved to know.

“Oh.”

There was disappointment in her voice and you could feel the distance between you grow. That was the last thing you wanted. You wanted her to pull you closer. Always closer.

Desperately you changed the subject after several minutes of unbearable silence. “Wanda?” She hummed in response. “Why do you love me?”

“Well… because you’re a bad dancer.” She began teasingly, her voice still thick with sleep. You huffed and opened your mouth to respond until she continued. “Because you’re an over-thinker… but not in a bad way. You over-think when you care... Because of how you repeat the words under your breath when you read… Because you’re complicated.”

A soft chuckle fell from your lips. “I think that’s an understatement.”

Her eyes fluttered slightly, and a small smile spread across her lips. The sight took your breath away. “And also… because I always thought I was impossible to love… Then you came around and made it look so… easy.”

You smiled slightly back at her, your heart thudding in your chest. “It is easy.”

The only response you received was a small smile in return as you watched her eyes slowly close through the screen. You still hadn’t said the words that were on the tip of your tongue. Even if you wanted to. You couldn’t. Not until you could tell her it was only her.

The steady rise and fall of her breathing slowly lulled you to sleep.

Maybe love wasn’t always lightning bolts. Maybe sometimes it was a blooming flower. Growing slowly and steadily until suddenly it was all there was in the world… And Wanda was.

She was all there was in your world.

When you opened your eyes the following morning, you were greeted by the sight of Wanda still on the screen before you. Her face was free from any tension as she continued to dream soundlessly. You didn’t have the heart to wake her.

Slowly picking up the phone, you whispered. “Sleep tight, Wanda.”

As you were preparing to hang up, a sleepy groan filled the serene morning air. “Where are you going?”

“There’s something I need to do.” You told her somberly.

Still half-asleep, Wanda turned and mumbled, “Hurry back to me.”

Your lips quirked up slightly at the familiar saying. “As fast as I can.” You whispered back to her before ending the call. There would be no more avoiding it. You knew what you needed to do.

With unsteady fingers you began to type the message that you dreaded. The unsteady path of your heart had never felt more treacherous.

_____________

The closer you got to the destination, the more your heart ached. You could feel it splintering with the loss of something you hadn’t even said goodbye to yet. The loss of something that had never been yours but had been all that you were for so long. The loss of the foundation that was all you loved and how you learned to love.

The chase and the ache.

With a heavy sigh, you opened the door. After you found a secluded table in the corner of the familiar café you were greeted by the sight of the woman you had spent the majority of your life thinking was the beginning and end of love for you.

You never would have thought that your heart was capable of more.

“Y/n.” She greeted with a hesitant smile. She was nervous. The sight alone made your stomach turn in agony. “I thought we would be meeting at the spot later today.”

There was hope in her voice and you hated that you might dimish that.

You licked your lips and pretended to not notice the way her eyes were drawn to the action. “Can we talk?”

Her smile fell, and she shut her eyes. “Do we really need to?”

“I think it’s best we do, Leigh.” Wordlessly, she gestured for you to go on. Your vision became blurry with unshed tears as you struggled to push through. “Leigh, I love you-”

“Then why are you doing this?” She asked quietly, tears glistening in her eyes.

Your heart thudded at the sight. You never wanted to hurt her. You came back to help her, not cause her more pain. There was no better way to do this though.

The truth would hurt but you knew lying would hurt her more.

With a shaky breath you continued. “I’m not in love with you anymore. I can’t-… I can’t let you wait around for something that I’m not capable of feeling again. It’s just… When I think of Wanda… I’m home.”

Her lip quivered. “Did you ever see that with me?” You bit your lip in hesitation. “It's okay... I want to know.”

A sigh fell from your lips as your gaze fell to the floor. “Even on our best days I couldn’t.” Leigh took a shaky breath. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still think about you. That your voice didn’t echo in my chest and your fingerprints weren’t stamped all over my heart… I just think we never got it right. And maybe that was the universe telling us that maybe it wasn’t us.”

“What if we ignore what the universe is saying? What if I want it to be us anyway?” Her words were small. A stark contrast to the self-reliant woman you knew she was. You hated that you reduced her to this.

Your eyes clenched shut in anguish. “Leigh… You deserve happiness. You deserve all the little moments of joy that life has to offer... You deserve everything you told yourself you didn’t deserve and so much more… I can’t give you that. Not when I’m in love with her.”

“Why her?” She asked, and you looked up to meet her pleading eyes.

The answer rolled off your tongue with ease. You didn’t need to think about why you loved Wanda when the list was endless. “I was running for so long that I never thought anyone would catch me. I never thought I’d even be able to catch myself again… Then I let her find me and it felt like everything fell into place with her. I stopped feeling so lost… It’s like the thing I didn’t know I was searching for found me and suddenly everything made sense again.”

“That’s how I feel about you.” You could hear her whisper brokenly over the heavy sound of silence. Sometimes silence was so much loud than any words could be.

Unsteadily you reached across the table and took her hands in your own, the feeling of her skin against yours was comforting, but it didn’t set you ablaze like it used to. “I’m always going to love you, Leigh, even if it’s not the way you want me to.” You began quietly, your thumb stroking a soothing pattern along the back of her hand. “We weren’t meant for each other and I think that was something we both knew… But that never stopped you from loving me and it sure as hell never stopped me from loving you.”

Tears fell down Leigh’s cheeks and you could feel a hot trail of tears on your own cheeks. “Kiss me.” She whispered.

“What?”

Her lips turned up sadly. “Kiss me goodbye.”

“It doesn’t have to be goodbye.” You replied quietly, your mind flashing to the night of her wedding.

Your eyes fixated on the way her lower lips quivered as she worked desperately to maintain her smile. “It does. Kiss me goodbye.” She repeated. You stared back at her with parted lips, the words stolen from your chest because even though you knew it was going to hurt, you still couldn’t have prepared yourself. “Goodbye because I love you.”

Gently you released her hands and leaned across the table, your palms sliding against her cheeks until they rested on the back of her neck as you slowly pulled her closer. The pull was slow as you both waited with bated breath for your lips to connect.

When your lips finally met, you could feel Leigh tangle her hands into your hair and press herself as close as she possibly could with the table in between you. Your lips fell into a familiar dance as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. To get lost in one final embrace.

It was the end of something monumental but the start of something beautiful.

After several minutes you finally pulled away, you allowed your eyes to remain closed for a moment and relish the finality of it all. When your eyes opened once again, you were met with the sight of familiar green eyes turning away from you over Leigh’s shoulder. Your blood ran cold.

“Wanda.” You whispered as you saw her disappear around the corner.

Leigh’s hand on your face gently redirected your attention. “What?”

“Wanda saw.” You mumbled, already standing up to chase after her. “I have to explain.”

As you were leaving, Leigh caught your hand and you turned to face her. Meeting her heartbroken expression made your chest clench. “I'll still look for you. Even in places I know you’ve never been... And I’ll miss you without saying a word. Goodbye, Y/n.”

Your world slowed down as you watched her heartbreak in front of you. No words would suffice. No words could make the situation better as you slowly released her hand and let her walk away. Watching the way, she disappeared to the left of the café. In the opposite direction as Wanda. How poetic.

Though life was easier when you finally knew what you felt. You followed the path to the right. You followed the path of your heart.

________________

Despite following after Wanda minutes after she left, the woman vanished without a trace. Quite literally vanished. Her phone went to voicemail and her apartment was vacant. The fear that bubbled in your chest made it almost impossible to function because all she had seen was you kissing Leigh. She didn’t hear you tell Leigh you were in love with her. She didn’t hear you tell Leigh goodbye. All she knew was that you kissed Leigh after dreaming of her the night before.

You knew there was one other place that she could be and that involved a trip across the country. Wanda was worth it though. She needed to know it was her. It would always be her.

With steely resolve, you drove to the airport and booked the first flight to New York, taking only the clothes on your back.

_______________

The sight of the Avengers tower looming over you was a daunting sight and it took all your willpower to step into the building and approach the front desk.

A large man dressed in all black was sat at the desk that was in front of the elevators. You hesitantly made your way over to him, trying not to wince at how much bigger the man was compared to you when you were face-to-face.

“Um. Hello.” The man continued looking at the screen of the computer before him as if you didn't exist. “I’m here to see Wanda Maximoff. Is she here?” The man grunted in amusement.

You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as the man continued to ignore your existence. “I’ll give you another thirty seconds before I forcibly remove you from my building.” He mumbled distractedly.

“I’m pretty sure the building belongs to Tony Stark.” You mumbled sarcastically, wincing when the man glared at you angrily. “I just need to see Wanda Maximoff.”

He stood up from behind the desk menacingly. “And I need you to get the hell out of my lobby.”

“I-I’m dating Wanda Maximoff!” You exclaimed. Were you? You hoped you could still say that at least.

He sneered down at you. “Yeah and I’m Natasha Romanoff’s husband. You’re not fooling anyone kid.”

When he made his way around the desk, he towered over you threateningly. “I just need to talk to her!” You explained anxiously.

“Yeah and I just need to take Black Widow on a date.” He began pushing you back by the shoulder, clenching his jaw when you refused to move. “Get the hell out of here!” He stated as he picked you up and began walking you towards the doors.

Out of desperation you began squirming in his arms, your hand slipping as you were desperately trying to slip out of his grasp. The slip caused you to punch the man in the lip.

Your eyes widened when you saw the blood trickle down from the split you had created. He dropped you and you sprawled out on the floor, glancing up at him fearfully. “Sir, I’m so sorry. I just need to-”

The man angrily wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I don’t care what you need. I’ve lost my patience.” The man pinned your arm to your back and twisted, your face pressing into the floor from the force of it all. “All this could have been avoided if you just listened the first time.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

From your position on the floor, your eyes met Wanda’s whose eyes were practically glowing in fury. The eye contact was broken when the man twisted more and pressed your face further into the cool tile of the lobby. A small yelp of pain fell from your lips as you could feel the bone in your forearm bend in ways it shouldn’t.

“Just taking out the trash Miss. Maximoff.” The man said smugly, and you couldn’t even see her reaction from the tears that were clouding your vision from the physical pain.

“Let go of her.” Wanda warned darkly. The man just twisted more in response and you were sure you something was about to snap as you yelled out in pain. “I said let go of her!” Before you knew it the weight that was bending your arm was removed and you heard something crash into one of the walls.

You rolled over on your back, panting from the pain as you cradled your arm. Your vision was blurry as you blinked to attempt to focus on the world around you again and not on the pain in your arm.

Before you knew it, Wanda was swimming in your vision as she cupped your cheeks worriedly. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly the pain was the last thing on your mind as you looked up at her. “Wanda, I need to talk to you.” You huffed out through pained gasps.

“Y/n, your arm might be broken! That is not priority right now.”

You shook your head. “It is priority, Wanda! I don’t care about my arm! I just need to talk to you.”

Wanda sighed. “Okay. But only after you let Bruce tend to your arm.” You heaved out a defeated breath and nodded. Wanda carefully helped you up and your heart fluttered when she wrapped an arm protectively around you.

As she began leading you to the elevators, you heard the man groan in discomfort. Wanda’s eyes began to glow and your own widened slightly in surprise. You watched as red energy drifted from her fingers and wrapped around the man before she tossed him into the opposite wall.

“If you ever set foot in this building again I'll make sure it's the last step you take.” Wanda warned with a point of her finger, her accent thick. Your mouth went dry at the sight. Hot, you thought to yourself.

After an hour of being examined by Bruce Banner, your arm was wrapped in soft cast and you were sent off. You were still processing the fact that the Hulk just tended to you as Wanda led you to her room. The ride up the elevator was tense with silence. You just wanted to tell her everything, but you wanted to tell her the right way. Not blurt it out in an elevator.

When you finally made it to the safety of her room, you took her hand, frowning when she lightly took her hand back. “Wanda. What you saw…” Her gaze fell to the floor. “It wasn’t what it seemed.”

“It seemed like you were kissing Leigh.” She mumbled.

You began fidgeting with your fingers. “Okay, maybe it was what it seemed… But it wasn’t like that. I-I… With Leigh… It was…” The words tumbled from your lips awkwardly as you desperately tried to express the contents of your heart. You needed her to listen, but you couldn't seem to find the right words.

Wanda sighed. “You don’t have to explain to me, Y/n. And you certainly didn’t have to fly all the way to New York to do this. I get it.”

“I didn’t know that it was possible to survive a heartbreak like that… To move on.�� You said suddenly, not even allowing your mind time to process anymore. Wanda's eyes widened in surprise at the shift. “And I think it echoed in my heart even when I didn’t want it to anymore... Making a full recovery was never in the plans, Wanda. Even if I never said it out loud.”

Wanda’s gaze fell again, the sleeves on her jacket stretched from the way she had been anxiously pulling on them. “Y/n, it’s okay.” She turned, and you could feel your heart break. The shattered pieces calling out to her. “Maybe you should go.”

Before she was out of reach you caught her hand, reveling in the feeling of love that burst in your chest from even the slightest contact. She turned back to you but refused to meet your eyes. You resented yourself for what you had done to her.

“I thought the ache would linger forever, Wanda.” You continued, taking a sharp breath. “I didn’t know I’d ever be capable of loving someone again… Only so much deeper. Deeper than I even thought possible.”

You could see the way she stopped breathing for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure how serious you were. “What does that-”

“It was that smile… The first time I saw it, I knew I wanted to see it for the rest of my life.” You softly tugged her closer. “It was never a question, Wanda… I was just too scared to let go. To step into the daylight when I had spent so long being comfortable in the dark.”

Her eyes watered, and you felt panic begin to rise in your throat because maybe you waited too long. Maybe she realized that it wasn’t worth waiting for you to finally see what she had known all along. Maybe she was tired of waiting for you to realize how stupid you would be to walk away from something so pure. To realize how stupid, you were to think even for a moment that she wasn’t the actual love of your-

Your brain short circuited when she placed her hands on the back of your neck and pulled you into her lips. You sighed contently against her as your mind finally slowed down enough to allow yourself to bask in the warmth of her love.

Your mind – your heart – seemed to only be capable of functioning around her.

Without hesitation, your arms wrapped around her waist tightly and pulled her as close as you possibly could. You gave yourself over to her entirely. You had never wanted anyone like this before.

All you wanted to know was Wanda. All you wanted to see was Wanda. All you wanted to love was Wanda. She was… everything.

With the fog finally lifted you could see that your heart had belonged to her since the moment she sat across from you in that café and there would have been no coming back. Letting her walk away would have been the greatest regret of your life.

Wanda was home.

When you finally pulled away you couldn’t help the goofy smile that spread across your lips. Wanda smiled back at you and your heart ached in the best way possible. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“It’s just all so clear now. You’re daylight. I don’t need anything else now that I have you.” The way her eyes twinkled made your smile widen. “I love you.”

Wanda just stared at you for a moment, her eyes shining so bright they rivaled the morning sun. The sight made your heart flutter happily against your rib cage. “You said it.” She breathed out quietly.

Your stomach flipped at her words. “It was long overdue.” Your palm raised to slid tenderly over her cheek. “I love you. I am so, so… so in love with you, Wanda Maximoff.”

The sound of her breath hitching filled the quiet room. “Say it again.”

You smiled. “I love you, I love you, I love y-”

As the phrase was falling from your lips, your words were interrupted by the woman before you. “I love you, too.” A breathless laugh fell from her lips. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words. To know that you love me back. To know that you feel the way I do.”

You lightly pressed your forehead against hers. “I may have gotten a little lost along the way, but I’ve found my way home.”

Wanda lips turned up slightly in a confused smirk. “You’ve been home.”

“No, I haven’t.” You licked your lips. “Home is your eyes looking back at me, home is the way your nose scrunches when you're happy, home is the way you laugh. Home is waking up in your arms every morning. Home is wherever you are… You are home to me, Wanda.”

“Y/n…” She whispered, her hands bunching into the front of your shirt.

You rested your forehead against hers. “Loving you was always easy. Even when it shouldn’t have been. And I know it will always be easy to love you, no matter what. You are my home, Wanda Maximoff. And you are my heart.”

Wanda leaped into your arms and you stumbled back slightly as she connected her lips to your and your heart exploded. The only life worth living would be a life you spent with Wanda.

Thankfully, that was exactly the life you ended up living.

Surprise, Team Wanda! An alternate ending to hopefully easy the damage I caused to your hearts last week. This was always in the plans because I knew I couldn't hurt you guys. I just wanted the true ending to have it's moment. So Leigh's ending is the ending, but if you're team Wanda... You can pretend it's this one instead. Huge shoutout to @mionemymind for helping me out of my writer's block and encouraging me! and @abimess for the constant motivation!

I hope you all enjoyed! Would love to hear your thoughts and comments as they are always welcome. :)

Tag List: @khiaraaa-in-spacee // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @halobaby // @madamevirgo // @aimezvousbrahms // @trikruismybitch // @marvels-writings // @izalesbean // @imdreamingblo // @i-choose-you-cyndaquil // @helloalycia // @scarlets-maximoff // @cantcontroltheirfear // @women-am-i-right // @funnysoldier // @myfavoriteficss // @imapotatao // @imagine-reblog // @blackxwidowsxwife // @purplemeetsblue // @cristin-rjd // @ravens-ss // @legaypandaboi // @myperfectlovepoem // @diaryoflife // @stupidsapphicsstuff // @ouat2017 // @abimess // @wellsayhelloaagin

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x y/n #sorry for your loss #leigh shaw #leigh shaw x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x you

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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

Hitoshi tests a more creative application of his quirk on you, his willing submissive.

characters: dom!pro hero!hitoshi shinsou/sub!f!reader

wc: 5.3k

warnings: smut (18+), aged-up characters, pro hero Shinsou (who is kind of a softie), hard BDSM and control dynamics, edging, consensual mind control, sex toys, praise kink, blowjob, unprotected sex, some loooong and tender aftercare/yearning

notes: the dynamic in this fic was partially inspired by We Wear Chains on the Weekend [ao3] and a conversation with @shadowworks about some fun applications of Hitoshi's quirk 👀 I hope you enjoy this horny little bit of fun! I enjoyed thinking about this dynamic with 'Toshi. He talks big, but we know deep down he's just as soft and squishy as us 💖

One more note: The dynamics and safety measures in this fic are the result of a little bit of research that I conducted. It is not meant to encompass EVERY BDSM experience, nor was my research exhaustive. This was just my little take on some kinky business with Hitoshi, so please let me know if there are any elements I've overlooked or misstepped!

(MASTERLIST)

Hitoshi will never forget the first night he spent in this house.

The little semi-detached in a quiet, trendy neighbourhood was one of the first things his pro salary earned him. Having the place to himself is still one of the biggest perks that salary ever provided.

Privacy, as he’s learned since, is paramount to the life he’s crafting for himself.

It’s Friday evening, and the early spring rain’s showing no sign of letting up when you ring his doorbell. The sound echoes through the house like the bells of Notre Dame- terrifyingly gothic, considering it was like that when he moved in, but not entirely out of character for him.

And his heart swells quietly every time he knows it’s you behind that door.

He pads easily down the polished steps, already showered and changed out of his work clothes. He likes to dress up for you a little, sporting a pair of dark slacks and a black button-down with the top four buttons undone. His hair, still damp from the shower, sits a little tamer and darker than usual.

No matter how good he looks, you manage to knock him on his ass with a single glance.

“Hey,” he greets with a quiet, familiar sort of warmth as he pulls open the right half of the double front doors. His smile slips a little at the sight of you, shaking the water out of your umbrella and soaked to the bone. You catch his gaze out your peripherals and start a little, shooting him a sheepish smile.

Something claws tight and possessive at the pit of his chest. You’re so cute, even water-logged like this.

“Getting worse out there, huh?” He quips, stepping aside to let you in.

“It’s not exactly prime umbrella weather,” you giggle, setting the dripping, half-broken monstrosity in the umbrella tray that he keeps by the door. “But I made it, didn’t I?”

He can’t help but reach for you, letting his fingers brush attentively at your clothes as he helps you out of your drenched coat. The dress you’re wearing looks devastatingly easy to remove, and his chest lurches a little with the urge to have you bare for him.

He resists. For now.

“Right on time,” he replies, taking your coat neatly by the collar and hanging it over the bannister. “Do you want to dry off a little before we go upstairs, or…?”

“No.” You answer suddenly enough to prompt his inquisitive gaze, and Hitoshi turns to look at you with a purple brow quirked perfectly.

“I’m just feeling a little antsy today,” you continue, and he watches the way your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip. “So, I’d like to get started right away, if that’s okay with you.”

You meet his eye again. Hitoshi’s starting to wonder if he’s the one who should be getting on his knees in front of you upstairs.

“That’s okay with me.”

He smiles thinly, making his best attempt at hiding the affection that’s bubbling shallow and steady in his chest. He reaches for you, uncurling his fingers to offer an eager palm.

You take it. The contact is breathtaking.

He climbs the stairs with your fingers grasped firmly in his. The suspense never fades.

Hitoshi keeps his bedroom a few degrees warmer than the rest of the house, and as he twists the knob and pushes the door inward, he can feel your palm relaxing in his. You’ve always liked it in here- warm and humid, from the house plants that line the windows and add lush splashes of colour to every corner.

It means more to him than you’ll ever know, that you find such comfort in a space so full of him.

He lets you slip in ahead, closing the door behind him and reaching for the colourful remote nearby. He dims the lights overhead, stroking his thumb thoughtfully over the rainbow buttons. He peeks at you through his peripherals, watching the way you glide your fingertips over the broad leaf of a money plant that blooms atop his dresser.

“What colour should we use today?” He pushes a button, and hidden strips of lighting illuminate in a deep shade of blue-green. The bed and walls are cast into a cool, oceanlike glow, reflecting blue off the room’s vegetation and creating a floating, almost aquatic sense of serenity.

“I like this one,” you confirm. “Keep it.”

“Whatever you like,” he promises, setting down the remote. “Today’s all about keeping you relaxed.”

He approaches you at last, cupping either side of your face in delicate palms. He tilts your gaze to his.

“You’re still up for it?” He asks, low and sincere as he searches your eyes. “What we had planned for today?”

“I am,” you confirm. He’s nervous that the rain may have upset things, but you’re clearly as ready as ever. “Been thinking about this all week.”

His shoulders drop a little, relief trickling into the fluttering cavity of his chest. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He bends, pressing a quiet little kiss to your forehead and smoothing his palms over the wet surface of your hair. He holds you there for a moment, staying close. He forces power into his shoulders and steps back from you, unbuttoning his cuffs. He breathes a deep sigh- focus, Hitoshi- and settles into the power dynamic you both can’t seem to stay away from.

He unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, depositing it neatly over the back of the nearby armchair. He nods toward you, slow and discerning.

“Strip.”

That dress is precisely as easy to remove as he hoped it would be, and he gets to watch as you slide each strap slowly down your arm, letting the fabric pool at your feet. His jaw gives an interested little tick as he gorges himself on the sight of you.

You’ve developed a nasty little habit of leaving your bra at home for sessions like this, as if he wouldn’t notice the way your tits sat beneath that loose silk, your nipples tight and hard from the wet chill outside.

You are delectable. Hitoshi feels infatuation crawling up the column of his spine every time he has you like this. But he’s about to take you even deeper, and while you’re more than ready, he’s not sure his heart can take it.

You’re wiggling out of your underwears now, exposing that perfect little patch of hair between your legs. What makes his cock throb even worse, though, is the way that you already know how he likes you. And so, kicking your underwear away and smoothing your hands down your sides, you don’t wait long at all before dropping to your knees and settling your palms on your thighs.

You lower your chin and go still.

For a minute, he lets himself admire you. He’s aching to touch you, but today will be all about patience. For both of you.

But he can’t take you, sitting so still for him like this. He caves to the warming in his chest and steps forward, tucking two fingers beneath the point of your chin and pulling your eyes to his.

“You sure about this?” He asks you. You lick your lips again, slow and thoughtful and torturous, now that he’s already so captivated by you. You’re giving it the honest thought it deserves. But when you purse your lips and nod into his palm, your eyes are certain.

“I’m sure.”

He’s been working you up to this for weeks. Exploring the unique possibilities of a relationship with him has always been in your contract, but it’s not something Hitoshi ever planned on rushing into. Only now, after months of playtime and weeks of careful preparation, does he feel ready to practice this with you.

“We left you your signals,” he reminds you, tenderly stroking the backs of his fingers from your chin up to your cheek. You’re staring up at him with such trust and admiration it’s hard to imagine anyone ever thought him a monster, for possessing such power. “You can come out of it whenever you want to.”

“Hitoshi,” you prompt, and the fall of his first name from your lips is enough to quell all his rising nerves. Despite the way you’re looking at him, memories of those poison words he’s been hearing all his life are flooding him. They’ve always served as a grim reminder of the damage he’s capable of.

But you wanted this. You’re ready for it. And he’s taken every precaution to ensure that you’re going to be safe.

So much reassurance, wrapped up in the three tiny syllables of his name.

It’s his turn to nod. He takes your jaw into his hand and drops to one knee in front of you, stooping to press his lips to the shell of your ear. Your sweet scent washes over him as he leans close, enhanced by the fresh rain on your skin and the rapid swell of your chest as you breathe.

“So you’re ready to drop, then?” He keeps his voice as low as possible, delighting in the way that you shiver in response. Your breath hitches against his chest, puffing quietly across his cheek.

“Yes.”

The word barely edges from your lips before the influence of his quirk fills every hollow in your ready bones. It’s a presence like nothing you’ve ever felt before, like the rising tide filling your lungs and weighing down your limbs. You take a deep, shaky breath to remind yourself it’s still possible.

Hitoshi’s used his quirk on you before. Preparing for this level of control, he tells you, takes practice. The more time he has to inhabit your mind, the better control he’ll have over what you experience and what you miss. The first time he ever used it on you is still a blank slate. But he only kept you under for a couple of seconds, building slowly over the course of many sessions toward the layered control he has now.

The sensation is thrilling. And yet, simultaneously, you feel completely safe. He will not misuse this power that you’ve so blithely handed over.

The sounds around you are muffled as Hitoshi gets to his feet, but when he speaks, his voice echoes in your mind like a bell.

“Can you understand me?”

Your body feels heavy and warm and semi-solid, but you manage a slow, clear nod.

“Good girl. Give me your hands.”

When he gives you an instruction, your muscles move without your consultation. You stretch your hands out toward him eagerly, and he takes both of them between his. He gives your fingers a sharp little squeeze.

“Can you give me your signals now?”

You cycle through them like clockwork. This is the part you had to work hard to develop, working through the specific layers of his quirk that might have been able to prevent such advanced thought.

With practice, though, here you are.

The system is one you’ve always used in parts of your arrangement where your ability to speak freely has been repressed. Hitoshi’s always been good at checking in with you no matter what, but thankfully he doesn’t push your boundaries too often.

You squeeze his hands in a slow progression, leaving long, deliberate spaces between each signal so that their distinction is clear.

One squeeze: keep going, all is well.

Two squeezes: slow down, I’m getting frustrated/uncomfortable

Three: STOP NOW

When you finish your stop signal and let your hands go still, Hitoshi’s fingers go slack in yours.

“Good girl, good,” he coos. “God, you’re so pretty like this. Look at you.”

He drops your hands, carefully letting them fall back to their neutral position on your thighs. There’s a pleasant tingle filling your dulled senses. In this state of mind, you can feel his gaze on you like a careful touch.

“I can do whatever I want with you,” he grunts. “Fuck, I can feel how much you want this.”

He’s moved away from you for a couple of seconds, but when he comes back he’s bare. Your vision is blurred about the edges, but you feel a wet little push he presses the tip of his cock, already hard and weeping, to the swell of your cheek.

“Don’t be difficult,” he purrs in your mind. “Open up.”

Your mouth drops eagerly open as you let your eyes fall shut. As he eases his hips forward, you let the flat pad of your tongue slip forward to cradle the tender head of his cock. Hitoshi groans low and soft, but the sound echoes through every nerve in your body, reverberating from within.

“That’s it,” he prompts softly. “So pliant for me, beautiful. Take it.”

He rocks slowly into your throat, letting sloppy drool slough from your tongue and coat his thick shaft as his fingers spread across the back of your head. He grips you tightly, keeping your neck in place as his tense thighs work to keep himself steady.

He eases himself onto your tongue and stops there for a moment. His pulse thrums in your ears, syncopating steadily with yours. He lets his head lull back as he lets out a deep, shaky sigh.

“Suck,” he commands, and you comply.

You bob your head eagerly back and forth, settling into a numbingly precise rhythm. Sucking Hitoshi’s cock has never been a chore for you, but in this state you’re conditioned to like it.

He grips you tighter as his hips begin to stutter a little. Every sound that leaves his mouth passes into your mind well before it reaches your muffled ears. You’re beginning to realize, in the deep, sunken place where your consciousness still rests, that allowing him into your mind has connected you more intimately than ever before.

You can feel his pleasure in the same way that he can sense your desire.

“So good,” he gasps, and the sound rappels down your spine. “Fuck, you’ve always been so good at this. I know how much you love it.”

He’s losing his cool now, thrusting against the barrier of your throat with more reckless abandon. But you’re numb to the feelings that might have stopped you before, swallowing him eagerly down to double his pleasure.

It shows. His fingers twitch against the back of your head as he grits his teeth and grunts, a breathy, feral sound with every rock of his heavy balls against your chin. Your eyes have slipped open again, but you don’t see him. Not really. All you can sense is his ecstasy, building to a rapid peak as he humps and pants and shivers into your needy mouth.

“God,” he rasps, “not gonna… t-that’s it… f-fuck!”

He rips away from you in one fluid stroke, that ecstasy boiling right to the surface before it’s halted in its tracks. He’s got one hand wrapped tightly around the base of his flushed cock and his pleasure’s dwindling.

He’s saving himself, to fill you properly later. While controlling your pleasure has always been a part of your games, Hitoshi’s taken to controlling his own as well. Lately, he doesn’t even let himself cum until you’ve seen your climax.

You’ve been trying not to let yourself read into it.

“Good girl,” he pants inside your head. “Come here.”

You’re a little shaky as you climb to your feet, but the numbness that you might normally get in your toes by now persists through your entire body. You close the distance to him in a handful of deliberate, steady steps, and he settles a hand on your hip to stop you when you’ve come close enough.

“Look at you,” he growls. “You’re still under, aren’t you? Incredible.” He takes one of your hands between both of his, dropping a kiss to your knuckles before giving your fingers a meaningful squeeze.

“Check in for me, sweetheart.”

In the receded depths of your on consciousness, you’re nothing but eager to continue. Hitoshi’s weighty cock in your throat sent spirals of aggressive arousal through your entire body. Your pussy is swollen and tingling, smearing the insides of your thighs with thick desire.

You give his palm one long, deliberate squeeze.

You need more.

“That’s what I like to see,” he purrs. He leads you to the bed and takes the liberty of lifting you into his arms. Your body collapses eagerly into his hold, and you let him deposit you gently onto the neatly made sheets. You stretch into the pillows, but your blank stare is always fixed on him.

“Okay, pretty girl,” he croons, and you’re still and stiff before he even finishes his thought. “Lie still for me, okay?”

He lifts one knee onto the bed and casts a gentle hand down the column of your belly, taking a gentle tilt to the left and sliding his fingertips along the column of your thigh.

“I’ve got your favourite toy here,” he croons, but you can’t respond. Instead, the buzz of nerves builds in the back of your skull, where your meager ability to feel has been preserved. Hitoshi wraps his graceful fingers around the toy in question- a sizeable wand vibrator in a deceptively pleasant shade of pale lilac silicone- and waves it in front of your eyes.

“Let’s see how much you can take, hmm?”

He leans closer, pressing a kiss to the point of your collarbone before tilting his chin forward to find the shell of your ear.

“Don’t cum,” he croons, sending a fresh thrill of terrified arousal into your veins, “until I say you can, alright?”

He slips the vibe between your legs and you feel it rumble to life. He knows your favourite settings easily by now, setting the toy to buzz low and hard between your legs in a series of long, rhythmic pulses.

Your body starts to pitch and tremble, but it cannot disobey his strict instructions to stay still. Your pleasure spikes the instant the vibrator’s soft, flexible head makes contact with your swollen clit. You want to press your legs together, whine with overstimulation and bat away the offending toy. But the influence of Hitoshi’s power is stronger than any physical restraint. Even as your muscles strain, you are powerless to move.

He holds you there, amusement lighting his features. You can feel the satisfaction thrumming in the back of his mind, building slowly. You know he can feel the unbearable sensations racing through your entire body. But he refuses to let up, even as desperate tears break from the corners of your eyes.

This vibrator has always been your favourite of his, thanks to its unshakeable ability to bring you to orgasm within the space of a minute. There’s something about the depth of the vibrations (and Hitoshi’s expert handling) that never seems to fail.

Tonight, that fact isn’t working in your favour.

Your pleasure reaches its peak devastatingly quickly. But every part of your body is under Hitoshi’s complete control. And he’s given you strict instructions not to reach that climax.

Your nerves are struck dumb as the pleasure bleeds into a desperate ache. You can feel the edge of your climax, dangling just out of reach. And the longer he keeps you on the edge, the more torturous the sensation.

The tears are coming faster now, streaming down your temples and soaking into your hair as you whimper and pitch, trying to shrug his control and force the vibrator away from your overstimulated pussy. He lets you thrash and struggle for a dozen heartbeats, picking up on your discomfort and pulling the vibrator away from your body as you gasp for shaky breath.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” He coos, switching the vibrator off and laying a hand on the flat of your stomach. Your body’s gone slack, but the muscles in your lower belly are still twitching and fluttering, trying to make sense of your waning pleasure.

“I can feel you fighting me,” he continues, voice dropping into his chest. He rubs soothing circles into your tender skin, letting you catch your breath. “You know you don’t have to struggle, sweetness.” He leans in, dipping his forehead against yours and giving your mouth a soft little taste.

“Are you ready for my cock now?”

Yes, your mind screams, and he starts, pulling back to look at you in mild surprise.

He actually heard that. After the surprise fades from his expression, he lets the barest hint of a smile touch his mouth.

“Good.”

When he touches your thighs they fall limp into his palms. Any commands he’s given your paralyzed nerves are overridden by the force of his touch. So, as he kneels between your thighs and pushes them apart, you relent easily.

Your senses are still a hazy blur, but you feel it like a bolt of lightning when he swipes the tip of his cock over your sloppy folds. You give a sharp little yip and Hitoshi chuckles, with the breathy edge of pleasure slipping into his voice. He rocks his hips forward, grinding against your needy hole and grunting through his chest.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Can’t hold on any longer.” He edges forward, prodding his thick tip against your entrance. As soon as he’s lined up he slides home in one smooth stroke, burying himself to the base with a shaky groan.

The pleasure is enough to prompt a quiet whimper from your absent mind as your body eagerly takes his stretch. Hitoshi’s cock has always seemed perfect for you in size and form. And he’s proven many times over that he knows exactly how to use it.

He fucks you with devastating precision, slipping one hand under your thigh to brace you against the mattress while he anchors himself by the knees and ruts against your body. He lets his hips slap ruthlessly over your skin, his weighty, spit-soaked balls swinging heavy against the curve of your ass with every thrust.

You’ve been well prepared for this moment, messy-wet and smearing his shaft with your slick. Every time he drives his cock into you, his groans are punctuated by the soft little whimpers that break from his control to escape your clenched jaw.

The pleasure is already unbearable for you. That peak you weren’t allowed to reach before is approaching quickly, and all you can hope is that Hitoshi will have the sense to let you release before he’s tumbling over the edge himself.

You have no choice at this point but to trust him completely.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he gasps above you. Your pleasure is doubled by his sensations racing through your neurons, and you can tell before he speaks that he’s not going to last long at all.

“Don’t know how long I can hold out,” he warns anyway, and his hips are already beginning to stutter inside you. You could have easily cum two times over by now, but your body is held back once again, forced to linger on the edge of bliss until he decides to let you fall.

He shoves his hips against yours one, two, three more rough times before stilling abruptly inside you. His body’s stiff, straining against the threshold of his pleasure. But he catches his breath, and his next words ring clear as day among a sea of troubled sensations.

“Are you ready to cum for me?”

You let out a low, desperate whine, focusing every ounce of concentration you have left into amplifying those desperate emotions.

Please, your mind screams. I’ll do anything, please.

Hitoshi nods slowly, your body going slack when you’re sure you’ve been heard. He slips both hands under your thighs, stroking his thumbs lovingly along your flesh. He bends over your torso, dropping a kiss to your mouth and steeling himself as his lips trail to your ear one last time.

“Cum,” he orders, and you do.

All the pent-up tension and pleasure spirals from your body in the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever felt. What would normally send dull flutters into the pit of your stomach has deep, earth-shattering tremors wracking your entire body. You thrash into the pillows, crying out your pleasure in eager, greedy gulps, and your pussy seizes around his cock as tight as a fist.

Hitoshi curses against your skin, rutting his hips into your convulsing depths and matching your peak with a climax of his own. His balls draw up against your ass as he pumps hot spurts of cum into your needing cunt, fucking the fluid back into your body as your thighs clamp over his hips and the last tremors of your orgasm recede into dull trembles.

“That’s my girl,” he gasps. In the pleasure that overtook him, he’s de-activated his quirk. He lets you surface as he stays inside you for a couple long breaths, tasting the crook of your neck and rubbing sensation back into your limbs.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he croons. “Come here. Give me your hand. Show me,” he prompts, and you’re far from surfaced but you know what he wants when he slots his fingers between yours.

You give him another long, deliberate squeeze. You can’t form words yet, but you’re okay.

“That’s okay,” Hitoshi prompts. He pulls slowly back from you, sliding out of your body and easing onto the pillows beside you. He keeps his movements slow and gentle, handling you with extra care while you’re still feeling delicate.

“You were so good,” he growls, reaching for you. “So good for me. My perfect girl.”

His touch is the first sensation that clears the fog in your mind. He pulls you tightly against his bare chest, and the sweet touch of his skin to yours is like a soothing tonic for your frayed senses. Skin-to-skin contact has always been a big part of aftercare for you, but tonight it hits so hard that it sends relieved tears to your eyes.

Hitoshi’s patient as a lamb with you, stroking slow circles into your shoulders, belly and hips as you cycle through the complex progression of emotions that stand between you and the surface of your consciousness. He keeps his lips nuzzled tight to the shell of your ear, speaking low and soft and constant, grounding you in him.

After a long few minutes, you blink a little faster and stir a little heavier in his arms. You’ve fought your way to the surface, like breaking out of a deep sleep, and the weight of all he’s put you through settles into your chest. Hard.

You shiver. “Cold.”

“Okay,” he promises, shifting both of you a little more upright. “I’ve got clothes for you right here. Let me just-” He lets go of you to reach for the drawers of his nightstand, and anxiety rushes hard and fast to the back of your throat.

You whine. Loudly. You reach for him without thinking about it, and he comes back to you in the span of a heartbeat.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes. “I won’t let go.”

You’re always clingy after a scene. But today you can’t bear to be parted from him. While he’s the one that sent you spiralling, he’s also the one who brought you down to earth again.

With you looped carefully in one arm, he scoots the pair of you toward his side of the bed until he can reach the nightstand with one hand still carefully draped over your middle. He dumps a pile of soft cotton fleece onto the sheets in front of you, then presses himself up tightly behind you to reach forward with both hands and unfold the garments.

“There,” he hums, showing you the sleeves of one, the cuffs of another. “Warm clothes. Can I help you put them on?”

You give a pouty little nod, so he slips you into the pants one leg at a time and pushes your arms gently into the hoodie, staying as close as possible and letting you keep the black hood pulled over your head. He finds his discarded undershorts and slips into those, too, prompting another defeated whimper from you when he has to pull away to find some clothes of his own.

Once he’s dressed (and you’ve cuddled him long enough to quell some of the pouting) he pushes the edge of your hood back and presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Do you want to visit the fish?” he asks. Your mood spikes and you cling tighter, but nod nevertheless.

The most prominent feature of Hitoshi’s lavish house is mounted into the wall in the upstairs hallway. During the day it’s surprisingly easy to miss, but now that the light has waned and the house is dark, it glows an ethereal blue that casts a liquid pool of light across the dark hardwood and ornate rug.

Lining the entire wall stands a massive tropical fish tank, maintained professionally and kept in impeccable order. It’s filled by a multitude of different species of tropical fish, darting in and out of live coral in warm splashes of vibrant colour. The pump in one corner sends a steady stream of bubbles toward the surface, and in the quiet, the bubbles make soft little gurgles as they break the surface.

Hitoshi brings you into the hallway cradled tightly in his arms. The moment your face is bathed in that pretty blue light, the last dredges of anxiety bleed from your chest. There’s something immensely calming about the gentle, rhythmic way the fish move. Some of the more curious ones even see you peering in at them, emerging from their little hideaways to swim up to the glass and investigate.

“Hi,” you croon softly, touching one fingertip gently to the glass where a bright yellow tang noses eagerly at its smooth surface from the other side. Hitoshi chuckles deeply into your neck, always charmed by how soft and quiet and vulnerable you get after a particularly tough scene.

This part, the tender healing that comes afterward, is half the appeal for both of you. But with every passing session you can feel yourself growing more deeply attached to him. You’re falling for him, despite everything you put into words- on paper for him- that said you wouldn’t.

Love was not what either of you wanted to get out of this arrangement. But when he handles your trust so delicately where so many others have failed, it’s hard not to fall.

It’s hard not to wish, watching over such a tiny, peaceful little underwater world, that you could belong in there, too. Maybe, if you’d been born a little blue surgeonfish, you wouldn’t have to deal with such complex feelings.

But then you wouldn’t have all the pain and all the joy of falling for someone like Hitoshi Shinsou.

After you’re satisfied with the state of the fish tank, Hitoshi brings you downstairs to the kitchen. He’s not letting you go home tonight, but you were prepared for that possibility. You have pills and a toothbrush in your purse, and he’s had extra clothes lying around for you from the moment you signed that contract.

He bundles you into the couch. Puts on your favourite sitcom without needing to ask. He brews your favourite kind of tea- liquid heat that warms you to the very core- and stretches out next to you for the rest of the evening.

You wake hours later, sleeping next to him in the wee hours of the morning. He is stretched out on his side next to you, spooning you lovingly with one heavy arm draped over your side. He’s always reaching for you, ready to catch.

In moments like this, it’s easy to believe he might love you. And in the deepest hours of doubt and vulnerability, you let that feeling lull you back to sleep, just as he might if he could soothe your restlessness.

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #bnha #tw dom/sub #tw mind control #my hero academia #gnomewrites

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

I loved the Ashe, Sylvain, and Hilda modern-day HCs. So….can I ask for….Marianne, Dima, and Claude now? They’re so so good.

Here's a quick list of the places I've touched on ModernAU stuff with these characters before, for anyone who's interested! General Modern HCs (Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Claude, Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Marianne) Soft HCs (Dimitri)

I'll try not to repeat myself too much, but the SFW portion might be a little sparse because I've written a good deal of my thoughts on that already :3

Marianne, Dimitri, Claude x GN Reader

Modern/College AU headcanons

SFW (not sfw under the cut)

Marianne:

- Definitely a veterinary student who has an incredible, intuitive way with animals. One of those "gets along with animals better than people" types. As a result, many others in her classes see her as aloof or difficult to talk to. Fortunately, when Hilda drags her to a party one night, you notice her keeping to herself and come to make casual conversation. It takes a bit for her to open up, but she's soon grateful for pleasant, relaxing company in the midst of the loud chaos.

- She needs a good amount of reassurance in a relationship, as she's so convinced you could do better. Marianne is totally the type to apologize for not being good enough for you, then apologize for bringing it up, then apologize for apologizing. But her love and admiration for you are so very clear. She'll shyly take your hand in hers, and just the way she looks at you, it's like you're every star and every sunset she's ever seen.

- Marianne spends some of her free time volunteering at a local animal shelter, and one of your earlier dates would involve her introducing you to some of the animals in her care. Here, it's like you see a completely different side of her- she's so much more confident and firm when she speaks to the animals, and she smiles so brightly and laughs adorably as she watches you attempt to make a good impression on them.

Dimitri:

- We've chatted about Modern! Dimitri a good deal so far- but I will double down here on the fact that, while he's outwardly extremely intimidating to your friends when you first start dating, you know (and they learn) that he's absolute Malewife material.

- He loves sitting on video calls with you and just staring at your adorable, lovely face. He's an excellent listener, and will gladly hear about your entire day from start to finish, even if you insist it was nothing special. He's just so soothed by your voice, and the chance to see you. While he's honestly not very good at social media in general, he does have a couple hundred pictures of you saved. Not to post anywhere, just to look back at with a goofy grin on his face.

Claude:

- Claude is the guy on campus that everyone likes, plenty of people want, but no one can really nail down. He seems to know everyone, but he's only actually close to a few good friends, and for the longest time, even they assume that he's the "doesn't believe in serious dating" type. It starts much the same with you- he figures you're interesting and cute as hell, so he may as well spend some time having fun and getting to know you. And then... the feels TM creep in.

- You'll be caught up in a sort of... friendly flirtation with him for a while. The kind where it would be easy to play off all of the corny innuendos and knowing glances as "just kidding around." Then, one night, after a long group study session or just lazing around with drinks and games with his friends, he offers to walk you back to your dorm. When you get caught in a sudden downpour and have to duck under the nearest building's awning for shelter, he gives you a strange lingering look that's so much heavier than any you've seen. And without a word, he leans down to kiss you. When you part, he's wearing a slanted smile, but he's fidgeting a bit when he says, "Hey, uh, Y/N. I wanna be with you- for real. So uh... how 'bout it?"

- Claude is just the most fun boyfriend ever. He's got an active and curious mind, so he's always game to try anything you're interested in, and you'll never be at a loss for date ideas. He's the kind who gets okay grades, though nothing incredible, but his brilliance shines in how he latches on to new information, turning a topic around in his mind until he's seen it from every angle. It's especially charming when he asks to hear about your interests or areas of expertise- he asks all the right questions and the conversation becomes lively just about instantly.

NSFW 18 + v

Marianne:

- You're definitely her first sexual partner (she hasn't even dated seriously until you), and she's going to take a long time to get comfortable freely exploring the physical side of a relationship. She's a big cuddler, once you've assured her that you like it too- she finds it immensely soothing to rest her head on your shoulder or on your chest, just listening to your breathing and feeling you warm against her. But as for sexual affection, she'll start slow, testing things by letting her gentle hands tentatively wander just a little further than before, or deepening your kiss a little more than usual.

- Best practice with Marianne is to let her be the one to suggest or initiate things, but to respond enthusiastically when she does so she knows you're happy with it and you want her as much as she wants you. Your approval and encouragement fills her with warmth she's never felt before, and a sense of bold desire she hadn't even known she was capable of. There's plenty of communication with her- there has to be -but in a way, that becomes its own sort of eroticism. Soft murmurs of, "is this okay?", "does that feel good?", or "can you take more?" mix in with affirmative sighs and moans, turning the negotiation of comfort into a wonderful, slowly escalating path towards satisfaction.

- She's absolutely mortified by the idea of sexting or sending nudes, but if she sends you an outfit she's considering and reply with a coy "You look amazing- can't wait to take that off of you" (honestly the cheesier the better with the pickup lines- being too smooth would intimidate her)- she'll only respond with a single blushing emoji, but you bet she'll be wearing that outfit to your next date.

Dimitri:

- Everyone on campus, including your friends/roomates see Dimitri as such a pure cinnamon roll that you might be surprised to learn he has a rather healthy sex drive underneath all of that sweetness and affection. Granted, he's definitely most likely to desire you when he feels emotionally close to you- but that won't stop him from fucking you nice and deep until your bed creaks. The first time someone overhears you practically screaming out his name, rumors start spreading that your ever-devoted Malewife is actually legendary in bed. It's mostly a raunchy joke, but as far as you're concerned, they're not exactly wrong.

- He's too nervous to actually save any of the spicy pics you've sent him to his phone, but that doesn't stop him from regularly scrolling back through your message threads to find them. Masturbating to porn is fine and good, but when he can look at you biting your lip as you show off your body to him, he pumps his cock and bucks his hips against his hand until he cums far harder than he's used to. Dimitri especially gets a thrill out of the implied part of this- the fact that you wanted to flaunt yourself to him like this and made sure that he would linger on the sight of you.

- A very fun game is to comment or imply something about how good Dimitri fucks you while you're hanging out with his friends. He stammers and turns bright red when you mention how, "Oh don't you worry, Dimitri keeps me nice and satisfied, don't you babe?" with your eyebrows quirked playfully. His buddies nudge him and laugh, and as timid as he appears about it, he'll need you as soon as you're alone together, and he'll hold you extra close and pound into you a little harder than usual.

Claude:

- Alright. Claude is hot, and Claude knows he's hot, and he has no problem using this to his advantage. He'll absolutely send you gym selfies, or raunchy messages when he knows you're with friends or family. During minor disagreements or when you're pretending to be mad at him, he'll slip an arm around your waist and nibble at your ear, whispering, "C'mon babe, don't be like that..." before pulling you close and kissing you until you can't think straight.

- He absolutely doesn't care if people overhear you- in fact, he'll tease you about it, murmuring in your ear that you can't keep moaning for him like that or you'll be heard. But the fact that he's fucking into you harder and deeper as he says it tells you clearly that he wants you to cry out for him. In general, he's pretty shameless about your shared sex life if you allow him to be. He'll practically strut out of your room to clean up in just his boxers, not caring a bit if your roommates get an eyeful. He's handsy in public as well (again, depending on your comfort with it), and will absolutely grab a handful of your ass while you're on a date together, or trail his hand up your thigh during a movie.

- Claude is adventurous and open minded about sex in general, as I've mentioned a couple times. Hell, he'll even send you a porn clip or a bit of smut, along with a brief "we should try this ;)"- and he obviously loves when you do the same for him. He sees no reason to be shy with his partner about your mutual pleasure. Communicating your preferences will make sure you both enjoy yourselves, and the process of even talking about it can be pretty hot on its own.

#marianne von edmund #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #marianne x reader #dimitri x reader #claude x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #feh #fire emblem headcanons #modern au #fluff and smut #fire emblem x reader #x reader

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Note

hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive

anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point

excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list

Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.

PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.

Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.

23 hours awake.

Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.

Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.

“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.

It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”

“He could drive around.”

You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.

Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”

Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.

You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.

“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.

He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”

“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”

Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?

That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.

You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.

Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.

He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.

He gave you his slippers

So?

Is that something friends do?

Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.

Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.

It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.

It matters to every other person you date

He sets an impossibly high bar

Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.

Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.

Did he just blush?

You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.

It is.

“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.

“You look-” He starts.

“Thank you so-” You start.

You both tinge with warmth.

“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.

You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?

No. Wishful thinking

It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”

A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.

“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.

“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.

He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”

It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”

He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”

“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”

He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.

Please let it be the latter.

You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”

He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”

“I have my moments.”

He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.

Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”

From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.

***

It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.

You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.

Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”

You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”

“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”

“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.

You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”

You put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”

He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”

Spencer outwardly sighs.

“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”

The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.

“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”

He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.

“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.

“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”

He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.

“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”

You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.

“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”

That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”

“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”

***

The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.

He doesn’t mind if it’s you.

Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.

When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.

He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”

“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.

There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.

“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.

He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.

“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.

It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.

“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He flicks it off, settling back down.

His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”

It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.

His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.

And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.

When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.

---

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inkedtae · 4 years

Text

doe’s peak ⇾ ksj. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ gryffindor!seokjin x slytherin!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ e2l, hogwarts au, some fluff, a bit of angst, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ a series of reckless pranks leads to a dismissal from Hogwarts and a new house guest. two weeks of amity sessions ends on a happier note than expected.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 20.1k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ brief mention of a fire, brief mention of theft, blonde!seokjin, longhair/ponytail!seokjin, pureblood!seokjin, dom!seokjin, brat tamer!seokjin, halfblood(?)!reader, sub!reader, brat!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, hate sex, degradation, mutual masterbation, double penatration, exhibition, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, heavy humiliation kink, use of vibrating dildo, oral (m. and f. receiving), orgasm denial, bondage, begging, hair pulling, spanking, pussy slapping, manhandling, fingering, edging, cum eating, face fucking, deep-throating, throat-cockwarming (?), cum swapping (?), panty eating (?), a bit of anal, a lil ass and titty play, spit play, a lil food play, basically filth

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ this was supposed to be a fluffy drabble...

･ﾟﾟ･｡ beta’d by ⇾ @kitsutaes (my luff~) & @moonmintrails (my soulmate~)

･ﾟﾟ･｡ le playlist

⟶ please note that, despite still attending Hogwarts, all characters are of consenting age

He smells of tough cedar and sweet cherries. It’s common for his scent to fill the room after a bath. You want to say you despise it but, in fact, you find it quite comforting. It always helps lull you to sleep. You fear that you might have grown too comfortable with it. The last two weeks of his very presence have been much of a bother, but it’s the little things, like the way he smells and the soft patters of his footsteps, that almost make you glad he’s around. You wonder how you’ll be able to fall asleep without him after tomorrow.

Two weeks flew by. You’ve been praying for that reality since Headmistress McGonagall first suggested this arrangement. Both you and Seokjin have been excused from classes for fourteen days, issued off campus and into your home in the muggle world. Magic is prohibited, wands confiscated, but the two of you are still expected to keep up with your class readings and assignments should you both return to Hogwarts.

“Spending intimate time with one another without the temptation of magic will put an end to all these shenanigans,” McGonagall insisted.

Despite the reality of sharing your home and room with someone as insufferable as Kim Seokjin, you're thankful the headmistress didn’t opt for a more serious consequence. After all, you are still under investigation for the fire in the Gryffindor dormitories. Records reflect that it started in Seokjin’s room and witnesses place you at the scene of the crime. And the fact that you’ve admitted to being there, reclaiming letters Seokjin had stolen from you, doesn’t help your case. McGonagall promises to share the results of the investigation once your two weeks with Seokjin come to an end.

A fire was never your intention. Truly, all you wanted was the year’s worth of letters from your family Seokjin kept intercepting. Before finding out he was behind it, you were convinced your family was upset with you. You’ve written to them consistently, telling them you miss them and wondering why they haven’t responded. You found stacks of letters, some opened and read, in his room. You had every intention of sneaking back in at night and levitating his bed into the lake while he’s sleeping as a means of retaliation. Though you were worried he’d found out about your family, about the truth, a fire never even crossed your mind. You’re almost certain you had blown all the candles out before leaving.

Twirling the gold, snake headed pendant of your necklace between your fingers, you wonder if maybe you left one lit subconsciously. Maybe a part of you wanted to set his room on fire, wanted him to suffer as you did when you thought your family was on the cusp of disowning you.

These are dangerous thoughts. You can’t be capable of such destruction. Yes, you might have charmed his broom to launch him into the lake, or dyed his hair blonde through a potion “mistake,” but to set his room on fire is cruel. No matter how badly you want him to keep your secret or how badly you want to get even, you know you would never turn to such an evil act.

With a deep breath, you flip the page of your History of Magic textbook, and attempt to refocus your attention on the Battle of Hogwarts. You try to drown out every sound he makes down the hall, every waft of his scent that trickles into your room. All is well until he decides to enter your shared room without a shirt. Only a simple red towel hangs around his thin waist.

You can’t help but stare. Little droplets stream down his wide chest. Nipples hard; abs tight. You regret to recognize how heavenly he looks. A breathless sigh escapes you as he shakes a smaller towel through his long hair. More drops of water spatter about, but your attention narrows on his arms. Has he always been that muscular?

A single scan over his tall frame soaks your panties. You curse him three times over, having just changed into them. You were clean and ready for bed before he came in looking like that. Damp hair in a loose braid, a soft, flowy nightgown on, face primped and moisturized. All that was left for you to do was some light reading of next week’s topic. Then he comes in, basically naked and wet, making your pussy clench at the sight. Can’t he do anything right? Why the hell didn’t he get dressed in the bathroom?

“Why the hell didn’t you get dressed in the bathroom?”

Seokjin spares you a glance over his shoulder as he walks out to hang the small towel on the railing. You can’t help but drool over the flexing muscles of his back. Hate fills your chest at the awakened desire to run your tongue across the length of his shoulders.

“I forgot to take my clothes,” he shrugs, making his way back into the room. He shuts the door and begins to rummage around the drawers Mama forced you to empty for him.

You mutter a colourful insult under your breath as he pulls on a pair of boxer briefs under his towel. The thought of taking them back off doesn’t surprise you as much as the act of leaning off your bed to sneak a look at his dick. Heat rushes to your cheeks the moment you register your actions. What the hell has gotten into you? Shifting back in your seat, you press your thighs together to attempt to soothe the ache between your legs.

What has come over you? You’ve seen shirtless guys before, been under a few of them too. Not to mention, this is Seokjin. The arrogant, conceded idiot who stole your letters all year and read them. You hate him, you know every part of you does. So why is the sight of him shirtless this captivating?

No, you mentally assert. It’s not Seokjin you’re attracted to; it’s the idea of a shirtless guy - any guy. You’ve been isolated in your house with a daft, alpaca looking pureblood and his pet sugar glider (which is against school rules but he manages to keep one anyways.) You just miss sex. All you have to do is get yourself off and all other thoughts of stupid, shirtless Seokjin will disappear. You decide that once he goes to sleep, you’ll, as quietly as you can, get yourself off under the covers.

Your jaw almost drops when he doesn’t reach for a shirt or pants. Seokjin shuts the drawers and tosses the wet towel that was previously wrapped around his waist in the hamper. The nerve of this fucker. He prances around your room in only his underwear, acting like this is his house, not yours. You set your jaw and raise an unimpressed brow.

When his gaze meets yours, you can’t help but glare. He doesn’t entertain your annoyed antics as he usually does. With heavy eyes and a little yawn, he grumbles, “Shove over.”

You scoff. “Funny.”

“I mean it,” he sighs, flicking up the covers. “I’ve spent the last two weeks on the floor. I earned my time on this bed.”

A hiss escapes you as the cold air hits your smushed, exposed thighs. You snatch the sheets from his hands and cover yourself up again. “That’s ‘cause it’s my bed.”

“Just move over.”

“No.”

Seokjin waves his hand, effortlessly pushing your body aside. With your wands confiscated, the most the two of you can do is wave little commands to practise magic. Before you can react with more than just a gasp, he hops into bed and makes himself comfortable. “Much better,” he smirks.

You can feel his bare legs brush up against yours, but ignore the rise of goosebumps long enough to kick him away. “You’re a fiend, Kim Seokjin. A pureblooded, bottom feeding, prideful... jerk-ing fiend.” You may have stuttered through the last insult, catching yourself getting lost in his eyes, but you believe you’ve made your point clear.

“Prideful jerking?” Seokjin questions with an amused smile. He quirks his head to the side and sighs.

He opens his mouth to offer his opinion but you silence him with the slam of your book and a switch off the lights by the wave of your hand. You know he’s not leaving. He doesn’t even make an effort to move. There’s not much to do except ignore his entire existence and try to get some sleep. Accepting the fate of your night, you set your textbook on your night table and turn to your side with every intention of falling asleep.

But then the bed dips. You raise a brow, thinking he might’ve come to his senses and decided to return to his place on the ground. Only, his side of the bed doesn’t feel lighter. The springs screech as he shifts until the quiet clutter of a soft object hits the hardwood floor.

You hear him spit. Once, twice then the slick sound of slouched wetness fills the room. Breath hitching, you turn back to find him sitting up, back against the headboard and briefless. “Huge,” you whisper, too fixated on his size to even care about his quiet, arrogant chuckles.

You knew Seokjin invented big dick energy, but to see his size, in the fucking dark, and still fear for your pussy is another story. Huge doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’re sure giants don’t even have a cock as big as he does. It isn’t the biggest cock you’ve seen; it’s just quite simply the biggest cock to exist.

“How’d you know I was into being watched?” He asks as he continues to pump himself.

His gruff voice, drenched in lust, has you balling your nightgown. You sit up and pull your knees into your chest, squeezing your legs together. He must be insane, deranged, absolutely idiotic to think he can take up half your fucking bed and then whip out his monster of a cock and expect everything to be okay.

Pussy clenching around emptiness, you reply, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Prideful jerking.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

His hips buckle up into his hands and you can’t help but stare down at his cock again. You swallow thickly, hating the way you crave for his cock to fill that vacant space in your throat.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

You answer too quickly. The desperate desire in your tone, the crack of your voice has not been lost on him. He chuckles to himself and picks up the pace. You can only hover your trembling fingers over your lips, clutch onto your nightgown with your other hand and watch him get himself off with pride.

His large hand wraps around yours, grabbing onto the hem of your nightgown as well. You stiffen. Gazing at him in the soft moonlight, you wonder if he’d make you take over the task of getting him off. You wonder if he’ll guide your hand over his cock and show you how to pace your pumps, or if he’ll have you cup his balls and massage them while he continues to bring himself closer to his orgasm.

But, he doesn’t entertain any of those options. Seokjin, instead, rubs your knuckles and whispers, “I don’t just like being watched; I like watching too.” He then pries the bunched up hem out of your hands and pushes it up to your hips. “Panties off.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” you hiss, breasts heaving from how horny this entire situation is making you. “I’m keeping them on.”

Seokjin raises a brow, as if offering one last chance for you to change your mind. When you simply hold his gaze, he nods and covers himself up again. You can tell he’s still going though, the lifts of the comforter being a dead give away.

“What are you doing?”

“This is a two way street, Little Doe,” he taunts before dragging his tongue across your cheek. You shudder and melt into his frame as he continues, “You’re going to have to give a little to get some.”

A series of insults are on the tip of your tongue, but the stripe of saliva on your cheek is all you can focus on. You want him to do it again, the shame of that craving clear on your face. Seokjin can read right through the glare you then attempt to wear. He grunts quietly as that amused look colours his features.

You can still hear the wet clicks of his pumps, the squeak of the springs when he rolls his hips in his hand. Gulping, you emptily gag on the ghostly imagination of his huge length squeezing into your throat.

He chuckles under his breath. The sound is all too cocky for your liking, jumpstarting your senses once more.

“You’re a fucking prick,” you finally hiss.

“I know you want my dick.”

“You know that’s not what I said.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “You didn’t deny it though, did you?”

You want to curse him, hit him, suck him, screw him- no… A little ride wouldn’t hurt, though. A string of sparkling shivers slither up your spine at the thought of sitting on his cock. Nails in those broad shoulders, tits against his chest, ass smacking his thick thighs.

He smirks. He’s waiting.

Nothing can hold back the pooling wetness of your core, and you refuse to deny it for much longer. Hooking your thumbs into your panties, you lift your hips and shimmy out of them. You’re about to toss them aside when Seokjin nudges your chin. He nods towards your mouth, silently ordering you to shove them in.

“You can’t be serious,” you sigh, voice almost pleading. It’s not enough he’s having you follow orders, but to make you suck on your own soaked panties is just cruel.

He only shrugs. You’re not even worth his words now. The humiliation is getting harder to ignore, your pussy gushing for it with every passing second. With a tiny huff, you shove your panties into your mouth. You taste dirty. You feel it too. But, he finally pulls the sheets back once more, letting you know you’ve earned the treat. A twinge of pride replaces the embarrassment.

Pink tipped, oozing precum, his massive cock slightly curves. You can’t help the satisfied sigh that escapes you. Fingers latching on your pussy, you swirl your wetness around your clit. You’re about to shove two fingers in, eyes locked on his length to catch his warning glare, but he stops you.

“Don’t you dare,” he hisses.

You furrow your brows as if wordlessly asking how the fuck he thinks you can watch him and not be able to finger yourself. You need something in you. He ignores your stares, the little grunts you let out in protest and shifts your fingers back up to your clit.

The curses you want to hurl at him get muffled into your panties. He knows this too well, that smirk on his lips only widening. And though you believe you can do whatever the fuck you want, you keep your fingers around your clit. You’ll take any amount of friction at this point.

“Oh, you can spit that out now,” he shrugs.

You pause. Wasn’t the point of the panties in your mouth to make sure you’re quiet? Seokjin ignores your confused looks, leaning his head back against the headboard. As you drop your panites out of your mouth, his true intentions finally settle upon you. It was never about silencing you, but about humiliating you. Every word he’s uttered since whipping his massive cock out has been an order, all of which you’ve eventually followed.

You glare at him, finally meeting his eye as he lazily looks over at you. “Is everything a game to you?”

Seokjin dips his head into the crook of your neck. You tilt your head up without much thought. His teeth graze your skin, warm tongue soon following to soothe those little bites he leaves behind. You whimper and shudder with every hot breath he fans over you.

How is he doing this so easily? Your fingers pick up their pace with every new jolt of pleasure his mouth brings.

“Slow down,” he whispers while trailing wet kisses along your jawline.

Your mind wants to rebel and rub your clit with twice as much speed and force. However, your body yields to his commands, complying to his every order. You huff angrily, finding yourself defenseless against him. As a weak act of defiance, you rest your leg over his.

He grins. His free hand rubs your inner thigh, making you regret your actions instantly. With every stroke up and down your leg, your pussy only gets wetter, needier for his hand. Your eyes flutter shut, body trembles as you begrudgingly submit your entire being to him.

“Touch me,” you plead.

Seokjin tightens his hold on your thigh. “And what do you call this, Little Doe?”

You whine, forcing your eyes open to meet his gaze. Noses brushing, breaths exchanging, your lips hover over one another. You force your hand off your clit and bite back a mewl from the lost contact. “Touch me,” you repeat, voice only just cracking.

For once, his amused demeanour is nowhere to be found. Seokjin creases all movements. He pauses for a second, scanning your features, then drops his gaze between your legs. In deep thought, he bites his lip. You can’t help the cold vacancy around your pussy, hips slightly rolling up for attention. Seokjin takes your wrist and guides your wet hand to his cock. “Slowly,” he advises.

Fingers hovering over his huge length, you nod. A squeal escapes you as you stroke him. Just from those gentle touches, you can feel how heavy he is. Hand trembling, you wrap your fingers around him and slowly pump.

He sighs against your cheek. You hate how proud you feel, but the kisses he places near your lips distract you enough to melt into him.

“Who knew you were such a good girl?”

“Shut up,” you snap, though your pace on his cock remains steady.

Seokjin trails his fingers up your thigh, to your wetness. You moan upon feeling his fingers circle around your clit. “You’re even wetter than you look,” he whispers.

“I said, shut up.”

A sharp slap to your clit draws a yelp out of you. Though you glare at him, tightening your grip on his cock, he only continues with the smacks. Each one is harder than the last, forcing you to pull your legs to your chest once more.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours. “Be a good girl, Little Doe, and spread’em.”

You pout and nudge back. Seokjin presses his lips together, holding back whatever laughter you’ve provoked, then pushes his mouth against yours. The fact that you don’t hesitate to kiss him back surprises you. Up until now, all you thought you wanted was a quick fuck. Now, you can’t imagine how you’ve resisted the urge to kiss him for so long. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, taking control almost immediately. You want to say you’re annoyed but you love the way it feels around yours too much to fight against him any longer.

Slowly, you spread your legs once more. He lands one last smack on your clit then soothes the blissful stinging away by circling his fingers around your pussy again. He’s moving his hand faster than yours, making you moan against his lips.

Seokjin pulls away with a smirk as your moans suddenly tumble into the room instead of his mouth. He laughs while you glare. “Aw, come on, Little Doe,” he purrs. “Aren’t you having fun?”

You pout, biting back moans, and pick up the pace of your pumps around his cock. If he wants to play, you have no problem doing the same thing. His hips buckle into your hand. You’re smirking now... until his hand moves faster. You follow his lead, picking up your pace as he picks up his.

Lowly growling, Seokjin clenches his jaw. “Fucking slut,” he grunts.

“Fucking prick,” you shoot back. However, your insult loses umph with every whining dip in your voice.

That amused look in his eyes is no more. His gaze hardens into something more sinister as he seethes, “Cum.”

You gasp as your hips roll into his hand. “You cum,” you huff.

“Cum!”

“Cum…” Your voice may be losing its strength and authority, but the look in your eyes remains as cold as ever.

Seokjin grins. He must feel your hole clenching, must sense how you’ve been tightening around emptiness, needy for a release. Does he know how horny that rasp in his authoritative voice makes you too? Does he know you’ll most likely be dreaming about him tonight from how his scent has imprinted itself on you?

“You’re pathetic.”

You really fucking are. How quickly did you give into him again? Are you needy to cum or needy for him? Your eyes slightly roll back as your toes curl. You’re getting closer; he’s bringing you closer. Can you really be to blame for yielding so quickly, though? He disarms your confidence within a few words. It feels like you were only cussing him out seconds ago for ordering you to take your panties off. And yet, here you are, on the cusp of cumming because he told you to.

Body quaking, you throw your head back and bite on your lip to keep from screaming his name. Your ograsm hits you hard and quick. Riling beside him, you’ve lost control of your hand around his cock. Your pumps hesitate, losing momentum and speed. Seokjin finds himself having to warp his free hand around yours to make sure he gets off as well.

Your ears are ringing, blood rushing to your head as you gush some more around emptiness. You pretend you’re stuffed though. You imagine his cock deep in, the imprint of his girth bulging from your stomach as you cum. You’re angry with him, with yourself, with how good all this feels. In the midst of uttering a curse, you feel a warm, thick shot of his cum land across your face. Another load paints your breasts and stains your nightgown.

Seokjin’s panting, grunting, trying his best to stay quiet as well. Your hands retract from each other within seconds of riding the other out. You shudder from the last leaks of your orgasm and pull your legs into yourself. All the while, he’s resting his head back and palming himself. As his eyes flutter shut, you can’t help but stare. He looks just as heavenly post-orgasm. A light layer of sweat glistens on his forehead, wet lips seeming kissable one more.

His breathing regulates as he looks over at you. Nothing can fight off your frustration at the sight of that lazy smirk on his face. He points up to his own nose and says, “You got a little somethin- Ow!”

You grunt a smirk after swatting his arm. “Clean it off,” you order between breaths. “Now.”

He raises a brow. “You wanted it so bad. You clean it off.”

“That’s not what I said I wanted.”

Seokjin licks his lips to fight off a smile. “Did you or did you not tell me to cum?”

“By that stupid logic, you have a mess down there you need to clean too.”

To your surprise, he nods. Seokjin shifts, repositioning himself so that he’s in front of you. His strong hands wrap around your ankles and pull them apart before yanking you towards him.

You gasp and fall back into your pillow, looking up at him in astonishment. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Cleaning up my mess,” he shrugs. As he dips his head between your legs, he says with a wink, “I suggest you do the same.”

There’s barely enough time to breath, let alone clean his cum off you, before his tongue latches onto your pussy. He slurps up your cum with vigor, shaking his head between your thighs. Lapping up your juices, sucking on your clit, he seems to change his intention from cleaning up his mess to creating a new one.

Your fingers tangle into his blonde hair, tugging on the long strands as he peeks up at you. Upon finding you’ve done nothing but relish in the sensation of his warm tongue, Seokjin pulls his mouth away from your pussy. You lift your hips up, whining and mewling quietly in hopes that he’d find you just cute enough to continue.

Seokjin pokes his tongue between the gaps of his teeth. In silence, he waits. You know what he wants, but you can’t find it in you to follow another order. He’s somehow managed to melt you into agreeing to every command. You’d rather suck him off than scoop his cum off your face and swallow it.

“Do it.”

“No.”

He huffs. His entire chest puffs out, shoulders rolling back as he leers over you. That usually glint of amusement dissolves into annoyance. “Do it,” he whispers. Though his voice may be quiet, tone soft, his eyes are unforgiving. It’s clear this is your last chance.

You don’t care. “No.”

He’s hovering over you. All you did was blink and he’s hovering over you. Hot, short breaths fan over your face. His tip pokes your lower belly. You’re trembling. His tongue shoots out, swiping across your face. One of his hands shoots to your chin, thumb pushing it down to open your mouth. He gathers some spit with his cum then drops the load into your mouth.

Your right eye twitches, only just rolling back from the taste. You swallow almost immediately and force yourself to ignore the recoiling disappointment of your heart at how easily you give in even after putting up a sad excuse of a fight.

Seokjin repeats the process, licking up the cum across your cleavage now. He pulls down the neckline of your nightgown to make sure he gets every drop. Again, he spits it into your mouth. And, again, you swallow.

You think it’s over now. He has licked up every drop of cum off your skin, after all. But, Seokjin isn’t satisfied until you’ve swallowed it all. He cups your breasts, pushing them up to tighten your gown and licks the cum off it easier. You swallow without hesitation when he spits it into your mouth.

Both his hands come down on your breasts. You jolt, biting your lip to keep from crying out a moan. “Next time,” he starts, groping and massaging your tits. “I won’t be so leintant.”

With your hands over your head, you quietly moan, reveling in the sweet action. You nod to his pathetic warning, knowing that in the end you’ll do whatever the fuck you want. Yet, you can’t find the courage to tell him that.

Seokjin ceases all soft massages and tears your gown. You gasp and grip onto his wrists while looking down at your now exposed breasts.

“What the hell?” You whine in a whisper.

He only smirks before returning to his side of the bed again. Making himself comfortable, he replies, “Sleep well, Little Doe.”

You scoff. He must think you won’t take the gown off, even if it were torn. You can’t fall asleep now knowing he has the upper hand. Sitting up, you pull the night gown off and toss it aside. Seokjin, having one arm tucked under his head, watches you with an amused smile. His eyes devour every exposed inch of you. As you lie back down, you realize you’ve played right into his trap once more. He wanted you just as naked as him.

“You make it too easy,” he chuckles.

“You really are a prick.”

He quirks a brow. “Funny. I don’t see you putting it back on if I’m such a prick.”

You don’t want it on. He knows that. You sure as hell know that. But admitting it would only make that festering anger in the pit of your stomach bubble into your chest. “Just go to sleep, Jin,” you mutter, turning away from him.

You want to believe that your bed has never felt more uneven, uncomfortable, unwelcoming, but you know that’s not the case. You’ve never felt warmer than with Seokjin beside you. His body by yours has been a better comfort than the emptiness you usually find back there. Does he feel it too? Is that why he was adamant on you watching him, joining him, swallowing him? Or was it all just another power play?

He shifts behind you. You stiffen, chewing on your lip. His hand, hesitant and shaky, snakes across your waist. It freezes against your stomach. You gulp and flutter your eyes shut as you rest your arm over his. It’s as though that’s all the confirmation he needs to pull you back into his chest. Steady breaths tickling the nape of your neck, you allow yourself to lean into him.

You tell yourself it’s the exhaustion. But the truth lies behind you, cradling your body against his. Lacing your fingers between his, you whisper, “This never happened.”

Seokjin presses a ghost of a kiss upon the nape of your neck. “Whatever you say, Little Doe.”

The clucks of the hens and spray of the tap cannot drown out his infuriating laughter. He sounds like a choked seal, squealing chuckles uncontrollably. It’s embarrassing. He should be kicked out on that basis alone.

You watch him chat up Mama and one of your aunties by the kitchen island. He makes another one of those stupid puns and they eat it up. Mama throws her head back, laughing along with him. Auntie Hyel chuckles and shakes her head before joining the rest of your family, your four uncles and Baba, outside. It’s as if this dismissal from Hogwarts was not at all his fault. Mama treats him like the son she never had. Laughing at his jokes, feeding him leftover egg and beef from her kimbap rolls; it’s disgraceful. They should both be ashamed of themselves. Everyone living in this house who has even given into his charms should be ashamed of themselves.

You shudder at last night’s memories, knowing you’re one of those people in this house now.

“Morning, dear,” Mama smiles upon finally spotting you on the staircase.

Seokjin turns to face you, that prideful smirk plastered on his all too handsome face. Yes, you realize the cruel oddities of reality. Someone as horrible as Seokjin gets graced with undeniable beauty and you, with your kind heart and good intentions, are offered mediocrity.

He leans his elbows back on the counter. “Little Doe.”

The nickname hits differently now. Phantom shivers trail your spine upon hearing echos from last night. He purred that name one too many times to sit the same again. It used to twist your insides with disgust. But now all you can feel are nervous bursts of desire, and a yearning for his touch and presence like no other.

“Shut it, you gerbil,” you hiss as you make the final step down the stairs.

Your eyes lock on his lips, ghostly sensations of last night’s session all too fresh to ignore. Is it wrong to want them on yours again? Yes. He’s filthy, you remind yourself. Filthy with pride and an ego just as big as his dick. A huff escapes you as your hatred for him resurfaces. It takes everything in you not to shove him off his seat and take it instead. You know better than to do that in front of Mama. She’d smack the both of you with that wooden spoon by her side within seconds.

Mama tsks at your name-calling when you take your seat. You meet her warning stare with caution. As you mutter a half-hearted apology, she sets a fresh cup of tea before you. Much like this morning, you drink the tea in small sips.

“Thanks, Mama,” you mumble against the rim of the cup.

Seokjin stares at you and smiles, “Yeah, Mama, thanks.”

You clench your jaw, keeping your eyes trained on the bento lunch boxes Mama prepares for your last amity meeting with Seokjin and Professor Trelawney. Since the two of you have met with your professor, you’ve broken every rule set by her. Insults are hurled consistently, taunts are made, threats are promised. The only thing the two of you haven’t done is prank each other. It’s too risky and the both of you can’t tolerate another second cut off from your friends.

“Do you two think you can keep the teasing to a minimum today?” Mama asks as she wraps each box. “The headmistress is dropping by after lunch to tell you if you’ll be returning to Hogwarts.”

You furrow your brows as you set the teacup down. Seokjin turns to face Mama with the same expression. “What do you mean? I thought that after the amity sessions, we’d be able to go back.”

Mama avoids your gaze as she tucks a set of chopsticks under the wrapped knot. “Well, the amity sessions are not the only thing the headmistress has been looking into, (Y/N). You still have that fire to answer for.”

“This again,” you roll your eyes. Mama glares at you. “Sorry, it’s just you know I didn’t start it. Even Jin knows I didn’t.”

Seokjin remains silent, looking down at his cup of coffee. Mama looks between you and him then raises a brow. “I think poor Jin’s been through enough,” she coos at him before rubbing his shoulder.

This is unbelievable. You’ve never really talked to him about it, but you just knew that he couldn’t possibly think that little of you, especially after last night. You know what you said, what you indirectly made him promise, but your words can’t erase that memory. Or, at least, it hasn’t for you. And now Mama is coddling him from you. You’re apparently the monster in his life, the conniving serpent that has plagued him and set fire to his stupid dorm.

Up until now, you’ve regretted snooping around in his room for your letters, regretted even setting foot in his common room. You know you didn’t start that fire, but you’d be happy if you did. It’s the least he deserves for cutting you off from your family and now stealing them right from under you.

Tilting your head back, you chug whatever is left of your tea. It scorches your tongue, but nothing burns more than the betrayal in your heart. Hopping off your seat, you set the teacup in the sink to be washed by the sponges you’d charmed. Mama senses your shift in demeanour and follows you to the broom closet.

“He misses his family too, you know,” she says as you grab your broom. “Don’t you remember what it was like to not have your family with you?”

You shut the closet, not bothering to grab Seokjin’s broom for him, and turn to face Mama. “You mean when he stole my letters? He’s the one that should be investigated. You know I didn’t start-”

Mama places her hands on your shoulders, silencing you immediately. To your surprise, she pulls you into her chest and hugs you tightly. “Please, (Y/N),” she whispers.

You’re not sure what she’s asking of you but you nod anyways. To show her to really understand, the moment she pulls away from you, you open the closet once more and grab his broom as well. She smiles and places a sweet kiss upon your forehead.

Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, Mama guides you back into the kitchen. “You two take care now,” she smiles.

You hand Seokjin his broom. He doesn’t even have the decency to thank you. “You’re welcome,” you bitterly spit under your breath.

He ignores you.

Mama is halfway up the stairs when she calls out to the both of you to have a great day. You grab your lunch and backpack then make your way to the door. Mounting on your broom, you don’t bother to wait for him and commence your last flight to Witching Wits, a wizarding cafe in the small muggle town nearby.

Gusts of the wind and the scent of asphalt fills the space between you and Seokjin as you enter the little town. Your brooms are charmed to cloak you in with your environment so you’re invisible to a muggle’s eye. Seokjin doesn’t bother to race you to the roof of the cafe as he usually does. He hasn’t even so much as tossed you a look of any kind. You slow down just to give him a reason to speed up, but he doesn’t take the bait. And when you finally reach the rooftop, and dismount off your brooms, he doesn’t tap the edge of his broom on the green bricked chimney.

You raise a brow. A line of questioning already forms in your mind, but you decide against voicing it. You don’t care, and why should you? He was the only that brought you into this mess, made you dive into every impulse. This time you’re going to go against your desires and curiosity. Tapping rhythmically on the edge of the chimney, the bricks shift into stairs that descend into the cafe. You lead the way in, not bothering to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s behind you. You’ve had enough of him already. Besides, his footsteps are a clear sign that he’s following along just fine.

Professor Trelawney is late… again. She hasn’t been on time since these sessions began. You’ve never hated moments alone with Seokjin more than you did today. Wordlessly, you place your broom on the rack by the entrance and find an empty table in the corner.

The routine is simple enough and you hate to think you’ve grown comfortable with it. You sit across from each other. Notebooks out, quills in hand or laying by an empty page, and Marina, the morning shift’s waitress, jumping back and forth from the counter to your table because she can’t seem to remember that neither of you have ordered anything.

“Actually,” Seokjin cuts in when you decline to see a menu. “I’ll have a butterbeer with a shot of espresso.”

Face scrunched in disgust, you push past his revolting order and say, “But you already had coffee at home.”

Home. Is it his home? He blinks at the word, furrowing his brows at you. He sure has made it into his home; charming your family, taking your bed, eating your food.

“I want another,” he shrugs once that disarmed look in his eye disappears. “How about we pretend I never had one to begin with. Would that make you feel better?”

Fear flushes whatever expression previously took over your features. You arch a brow and ask, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin shrugs. He sits back and twirls his quill between his fingers, watching you carefully.

You cross your legs, draping the short, flowy shirt of your white dress over your thigh. “It must’ve meant something, or you wouldn’t have said it.”

“Does that same logic apply to actions?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to now. Pursing your lips, you bite back any insults that are begging to be thrown at him. Instead of giving into the subject he’s adamant on discussing, you bring up one he’s been avoiding since your arrival. “What was the point in stealing my letters?”

“I could ask you the same question about the fire.”

You huff. Why must he be this difficult? “You know I didn’t start it.”

His shoulders rise and fall again. Those shrugs are starting to really test your patience. On the cusp of tossing Mama’s advice out the window, Professor Trelawney's clunky footsteps echo down the brick staircase. Before she can make her way to your table, you lean in and whisper, “I hate you, I really do, but I’d never put you in that sort of danger, Jin. I’m not deranged.” With how much time you’ve spent thinking about his lips this morning, you might rethink that last claim, but you stay firm on your words.

Seokjin tilts his head and quirks a brow at your last statement. You throw him a blank stare as Professor Trelawney makes her way towards your table.

“I know,” he whispers.

He knows. He knows and you’re still under investigation. Has he told McGonagall this? If he vouches for you then you can’t possibly lose your place at Hogwarts. You don’t have much time to ask him, however, as Professor Trelawney drops her heavy bag on the table.

“Ah, Morning!” she smiles. Her eyes widen with delight behind those thick rimmed glasses. You hesitantly smile back, sneaking a glance at Seokjin.

He replies with a quiet, “Good morning, Professor,” before meeting your gaze again. The usual cocky remark, arrogant approach, and amused looks are absent from his, dare you think, kind face. He seems so genuine in his stare that you almost regret asking him to forget about last night. You clearly haven’t.

Marina returns with Seokjin’s order as Professor Trelawney takes a seat and pulls out her calming crystals. “Oh, is that a butterbeer with an espresso shot?” She asks with curious eyes. Before Marina can confirm, Professor Trelawney says, “I’ll have one too.”

Seokjin throws you a cocky smirk. A silent “I told you so,” dances in his gaze. You roll your eyes and sit back in your seat.

As Professor Trelawney continues to line up the crystals, she suggests starting these sessions as you always have. “Deep breath in then out and let the other know something you admire about them.”

You share an annoyed look with Seokjin, sighing deeply when he refuses to start... again. He always pulls the quiet card, knowing you’ll be the first to lose your patience and say something that gets mistaken as an effort to get the ball rolling.

“Very good, Miss (L/N),” your professor smiles. “But this time add something you like about Mr. Kim.”

You don’t bother correcting her. Instead, you sit up straight and take a deep breath in. On the exhale you say, “I really admire the way you always test my patience.”

Seokjin glares. He inhales deeply then lets out, “I really admire the way you never let things go.”

Marina returns with Professor Trelawney’s order and they share a concerned look as you carry on with the exercise, saying, “I really admire how stupid you are.”

“I admire how annoying you are.”

“I admire your laziness.”

“I admire your cruelty.”

You furrow your brow, ball your fist and bite back the curses threatening to slip out. Cruelty? Didn’t he just say that he believed you’d never actively put him in any danger? Was he just saying anything to try and get you to bend to his every command again? Lips trembling, you reply, “I admire your dishonesty.”

Professor Trelawney takes a sip from her butterbeer, upper lip coated with foam, then lets out a shaky breath. “Well, that was a good start,” she tries her best to smile, setting her cup down. “Given that it’s our last day, let’s try doing this exercise right just once, hmm?”

Mama’s words trickle back to you. You want to make her proud, to continue your studies at Hogwarts, but he’s just so frustrating. And a part of you knows that even if you make an effort to show Professor Trelawney how you’ve progressed these last few days, it wouldn’t change a thing. The results of your investigation are still pending, no thanks to Seokjin.

“Now, let’s try using positives. Mr. Kim, why don’t you start us off this time?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you resist the urge to scoff. He’s been silent since the beginning for a reason. If you give into insults first, he has the excuse of defending himself when he shoots one back. And though you know this every well, it only makes you want to swear at him even more.

Seokjin huffs, twirling his quill between his fingers. Breathing in deep, he says, “I admire your determination.”

Lies.

Swallowing your curses, you reply, “I admire your resilience.”

Seokjin pauses. He tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing. Scanning your features, he seems to be searching for signs of deceit. Expressionless, you stare back. He must’ve interpreted your lack of emotion for sincerity as his gaze softens. Sitting up, he licks his lips to hide a little smile. “I admire your passion.”

When has he ever seen you so passionate? This really is a joke to him; you’re a joke to him. You open your mouth to call him out for his lies when the strangest look surfaces on his face. You’re not certain what it is, but you can tell that it lacks defense and hostility. He’s radiating warmth. Lips in a… kind smile, he awaits your reply. Could he… Could he really be serious?

“I admire your ability to charm a room.”

Perhaps he heard something too raw in your voice, his brows momentarily shooting up. Have you been too honest?

“I admire your honesty.”

You have been too honest. Now, you’ve never been more confused. Does he or does he not believe you? You only wish you can ask.

Professor Trelawney giggles into her half empty cup. “Well done,” she smiles, more foam coating her upper lip. Neither you nor Seokjin make an effort to let her know, sharing a knowing smile. The professor doesn’t think too much of it, though. She simply assumes her efforts are finally sinking in.

“Let’s pick up where we left off yesterday.”

You flip back to yesterday's page. The last two weeks have been a series of attempting to compliment each other and recording all the pranks the two of you have pulled during this school year alone. Only two more pages, out of twenty-five, remain. Each of you must state the prank, explain why you did it and why you regret doing it. You have yet to receive an apology for all the crap he’s done to you… you also have yet to issue one yourself.

“We last stopped with you, Mr. Kim. What’s the next prank on your list?”

Seokjin chews on his lip. “Blonde hair,” he mutters, playfully glaring your way.

Professor Trelawney leans forward. She inspects his hair, asking, “That’s not natural?”

No. What seems to be natural, however, is how good any colour of hair seems to look on him. You had intentionally intended to dye his hair pink. But, when you “accidently” spilled a bit of potion all over his head, he only looked better. The colour didn’t even clash with his red uniform. So, you quickly threw some mint leaves in and spilled some more over his head. Teal looked better than the pink. As a last ditch effort, while Professor Slughorn made his way to you, you tossed some butterscotch strings in and poured it all over his head again. The blonde stuck, striking beauty from every angle.

“That was not supposed to happen,” you confess with a smile playing on your lips.

“You poured that disgusting potion on me three times. I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Well, at least something good came from trying to dye his hair. He may have looked good but the potion sure as hell didn’t feel that way. “You mixed up my schedule. I was late for astronomy six times,” you explain as a means of an excuse.

“That’s because you charmed your necklace to hiss at every girl I tried to date.”

You shrug. “Someone needed to warn them how slimy you are.” Professor Trelawney clears her throat. “Were,” you correct. “How slimy you were.”

The professor rubs her temples. “No,” she sighs. “Don’t you have something to say to Mr. Kim?”

You’ll be damned if you apologize first. He’s the one that started all this; he should be the one apologizing. And, if you’re satisfied enough with his groveling, you might consider issuing an apology for your actions as well.

“For what it’s worth,” you start. Seokjin raises a brow. Professor Trelawney holds her breath. “My plan backfired. I only kept pouring the potion over you because you look great in every colour.”

An exhausted sigh escapes your professor. She tries to remain positive however, smiling and nodding as she moves the conversation along. “And what about this necklace charming ordeal?”

“What about it?”

“Why did you charm the snakes on your necklace to hiss at his girlfriends?”

You pause. Why did you do that? You remember that it was a week before the Yule ball. Mitch, a fellow Slytherin, was in the middle of asking you something. You don’t exactly remember the details of that conversation. However, you do remember watching Seokjin over Mitch’s shoulder. He was being all too enchanting, courting Rina, who is possibly the kindest Hufflepuff you’d ever met. You remember watching her swoon and watching him notice.

Your heart festers with a familiar rage. The charming spell comes to you in a hard wave once again, just as it did that day.

“He reordered my notes,” you lie.

“That was the excuse you used when you bought four hundred chocolate frogs in my name and released them into the Gryffindor common room,” Seokjin points out.

You avoid his narrowing gaze as both he and Professor Trelawney await the truth. Why did you do that? Why did you do that? The question circles around your head, excuses nowhere to be found. Nothing even really came of it. He ended up going to the ball with Rina anyways. And you went with Jimin since he’s your best friend and the only person you can tolerate being around for an entire night. Had you wanted Seokjin to take you instead? You internally cringe at the thought.

“I don’t know,” you finally answer.

Silence falls over the table. You can’t meet their eyes, fearing they may see something you’re trying to bury deep within you. Professor Trelawney curls her lips in. Furrowing her brows, she asks, “Well, do you regret your actions?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps it’s the lack of hesitance in your reply, or the firmness in your tone. Either way, Professor Trelawney believes you. She carries along with the session. You and Seokjin go back and forth for the next couple of hours, crossing out every prank you finish addressing.

Finally, your latest pranks remain.

“How about we start with how you found out Seokjin had your letters?”

You swallow thickly. This happens to be the choppiest part of your story, according to the headmistress. “Someone,” she had said. “Someone told you?”

“Someone told you?” Professor Trelawney echoes when you repeat yourself to her.

You nod.

“Who?” Seokjin immediately questions.

“Someone.”

“Mitch?”

How the fuck did he know that? Did Mitch tell anyone else? But if he made you promise not to say anything, then why would he go tell others? Setting your jaw, you repeat through gritted teeth, “Someone.”

“Jimin?”

“No!”

“So, Mitch then?”

How does he keep doing that? You furrow your brows, exhaling sharply from your nose. What’s got him thinking it was Mitch to begin with? Had he maybe overheard Mitch telling you about it in the great hall? But, if that was the case, why didn’t he put in a better effort in hiding them? He just left them unattended in the first drawer of his night table, opened and vulnerable to any other prying eyes.

Fear of someone else finding out about you and your family returns in sharp pains of your gut. You shift your crossed arms down to your stomach between shaky breaths. “Why are you certain it’s him?”

Seokjin smirks. “You had no problem denying that it was Jimin. Saying it’s not Mitch seems to be a struggle for you.”

It’s your fault for underestimating his intelligence. Yes, you constantly tell him he’s stupid, but you both know that’s not the case. And it’s the fact that you know how smart he is and that he knew better than to steal your personal property and invade your privacy only furthers your hatred towards him. Sighing, you reply, “It doesn’t matter who told me. What I would like to know is why you had to read them?”

All colour drains from his face. “I didn’t.”

You scoff, running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth. It’s vital that you keep your temper in check. You know that if you cause a scene now, you’d only look even guiltier. “Why were the letters opened then?”

“Look, I didn’t read them,” he huffs.

The atmosphere only darkens around your table, thickening with each trembling breath the two of you take. Professor Trelawney hisses at the sight of your auras and begins to flail her hands about, cleansing them from all that negative energy. You know things are starting to get out of control when an entire room of magical creatures look towards your table with concern and confusion.

Glancing at Seokjin, you can’t help but glare. Everything he’s done, everything he’s said before this point has contradicted itself. He says he believes you, but won’t vouch for you. He says he never read your letters, but opened them anyways. He says the right things before bed, looks the right way, touches you in the right places, but then can’t meet your gaze the next morning. In all fairness, you had told him to forget about last night in so many words. However, his withdrawal from certain conversations is not lost on you. And it is for this reason that you cannot stomach to look at him any longer.

“I need some air,” you suddenly mutter, cutting Professor Trelawney off. Lost so deep in thought, you hadn’t even realized that she was talking.

“Alrigh-”

The screech of your chair cuts her off once more. The sad look on her face fills your heart with guilt. You hesitantly rest a hand on her shoulder and mumble, “Thank you for cleansing my aura. I feel a bit better with all that negativity gone.”

Professor Trelawney smiles up at you. She holds onto your elbow and nods. “Of course, dear. You enjoy your lunch now.”

Forcing a smile, you pull your hand away from your professor. The intimacy is getting more and more uncomfortable. The most feeling you’ve put into anyone else was last night, and that’s not a fact you’re proud to admit.

In seconds, you’re abandoning all feelings and thoughts. You turn your ink lid close tight and toss it into your bag with all your other things. In your peripherals, you can see Seokjin rushing to do the same. If he thinks he’s going to ruin your only moment alone with excuses, he’s sadly mistaken. Grabbing your lunch, you make your way to the broom rack and take the first familiar broom you see. Up the green brick steps you go, and under the wind you fly away from Witching Wits cafe; away from Kim Seokjin.

The flight to Doe’s Peak is long, but worth the time. You land atop the highest hill, amongst the tallest grass. You’ve tossed glances behind you all throughout the flight, making sure Seokjin wasn’t following you. Now that you’ve made it though, alone with only the wind’s mocking melodies for company, you partly wish he had followed you.

Dismounting off your broom, you let it fall by your feet. You’ve snuck away to this hilltop since the first amity session. You needed a breather then too after a heated argument about whether or not you taught Professor Flitwick’s frogs to follow Seokjin around and sing ominous notes every time he entered a room. You did, but no one needed to know that. You let your words get the best of you then too.

Pulling out a white, red striped sheet from your bag, you shake it out and lay it on the floor. After one too many trips here, you’ve learned to come prepared. Actually, before these amity sessions, you haven’t flown up here in awhile. You used to always run away to this hilltop since it had the best view of the entire muggle town on one side and the country roads on the other.

A large forest separates the peak from the countryside. As you sit yourself down on the thin blanket and unwrap your lunch, you remember tricking both the country and townspeople that a beast lurked these parts. It was before you realized you had magic. You came on a hiking trip with your family and fell in love with the scenery. You wanted to keep it all to yourself, so you attempted to roar into the forest. You were only seven; how were you supposed to know that you’d sound more like a bear than you intended to? By some twist of fate or another, you got what you wanted: an eyeful of scenery for your viewing only.

You face the town now, watching the muggles bustle around in the distance. With a mouthful of kimbap, you pull your portable green radio out of your bag and flick it to life. A reply of the last quidditch game sounds. Slytherin against Gryffindor. Hearing the game all over again, you can’t help but sigh. You should’ve been there, batting bludgers towards Seokjin. He’s a seeker, but that’s never stopped you from swinging your bat towards him before.

“Slytherin scores again! Gryffindor’s only chance to win now lies with the golden snit-”

You switch the radio off with a wave of your hand. Another second of this rerun and you might just chuck the radio down the hill.

The wooden sign at the edge of the hilltop creaks from the forces of the wind. Shoving the last piece of kimbap into your mouth, you glance up at it. The hill was named Theodore’s Peak, but the other letters had fallen off long before you were born. Now, despite the discolored outline of the previous letters, the sign reads Doe’s Peak.

It’s a bit ironic, you think as you scarf down the last little bits of egg in your lunch box. The hill belongs to you and your patronus is a doe. Now, if only Seokjin could let that go.

Ah, Seokjin. Why can’t you go a single moment without his name on the tip of your tongue? Is he really that infuriating, that intoxicating that he needs to be entrenched in your every thought? Full of anger and frustration, you look back out at the town and inhale deeply. On the exhale, you scream at the top of your lungs. Screwing your eyes shut tight, you let every drop of rage out in a long scream.

When you’re done, you shut your bento box, wrap it up tight and push it aside. You, then, mentally vow to go the rest of this lunch not thinking about Kim Seokjin while reaching into your bag to search for your peach. If this is to be your last few moments as a witch, the results of your investigation still pending, then you’ll spend them admiring your favourite place, alon-

A snap of a branch chills your blood. No one dares hike through the woods. You slowly turn your head down to the forest. Squinting, you notice a figure trying, and failing, to hide behind a tree trunk. Clenching your jaw, you attempt to swallow your anger. But then he laughs.

“Get lost, gerbil face!” You shout.

“What?”

“GET LOST!”

“COME UP?”

He’s doing this on purpose. Before you can yell curses, he flies up to where you are, dismounting by your broom. You roll your eyes, finally grabbing hold of your peach in your bag and pulling it out. Your bag tips over, but you pay it no mind. You’re all too consumed by Seokjin and his returning cocky smirk.

“Get lost,” you repeat before taking a big bite out of your fruit. You don’t bother to spare a glance up at him.

Seokjin takes this as an invitation to sit. His eyes flicker from your bag to you. “You took my broom.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “So, you hid down there and watched me eat?” You ask around your food.

“I’m not some creep.”

“You did follow me up here.”

He lets out a flustered sigh, looking out into the town. “I heard you yelling. Forgive me for wanting to make sure you were okay.” Tone drenched in sarcasm, he avoids your confused gaze.

You open your mouth to call bullshit, but pause. Though you’d hate to admit it, that does sound like something he’d do. He’s a douchebag, but an honourable one. No matter how much he hates you, he’d never let you face a dangerous situation alone. Or, at least, you hope he wouldn’t. So, instead of insulting him or calling him a liar, you take another bite of your peach.

“You come up here a lot?” He asks.

You ignore him.

He hums quietly. Then, reaches his hand back. “Is this why?”

Mid eye roll, mid chew, you freeze. He holds your dark green dildo in his hand, examining it in the bright afternoon sun like it’s some rock he found laying around. You know it’s big, having selected it on it’s size alone, but it looks small in his hand. You drop your peach, choke on the bites you try to swallow and lunge to grab that toy out of his hand. The only reason you’ve kept it in your bag was to keep it out of his sight.

Seokjin laughs as he holds it high out of your reach. You scamper around over his lap like a little dog in desperate need for a treat. “Down, girl,” he teases with a smirk.

Your arousal instantly pools between your legs at the reference. Though riddled with humiliation, you can’t fight the angry desire coursing through your veins. One of your peach juice stained hands suddenly wraps around his neck. You gently squeeze, ignoring the shudder of pleasure that runs down your spine at the gulp of his adam’s apple.

Eyes locking, he raises a brow. Is that a challenge? Does he not think you can squeeze any harder? Despite being fueled by rage, you only just tighten your grip around his neck.

He scoffs.

You add your other hand, threatening, “I’ll do it.”

He smirks. “I dare you.”

Without much hesitance, your grip tightens. Seokjin moans. A gasp escapes you, turning his pleased groans into laughter. He just needs one hand to push both yours off him. Then your throat is caught in his grasp. He squeezes without warning, smirking down at you as he whispers, “That’s how you choke a brat.”

Chest heaving, straggled moans pour out of you. Seokjin must’ve thought the buttoned dress was too constricting around your breasts. He raises his brows as he looks down at your cleavage and grazes the buttons. You take this as a silent request to continue. Against your better judgement and the anger that wants to tear him apart, you nod.

He wastes no time on anymore reassurances. Button after button is unclasped. Your bra becomes more and more exposed. His grip tightens as the sleeves fall off your shoulder. He reaches behind you, hovering his lips over yours, and loosens your bra. Exchanging his breath for yours, he purrs, “Take it off.”

“You want it off so bad; you take it off.”

Echoing his words from last night, with your own variation of course, is possibly the deadliest thing you could do. Seokjin pulls your bra down, the straps falling off your shoulder too, and slaps one of your breasts.

You hiss, glaring at him. He takes the look as another challenge, smacking your other breast much harder than the last.

“Jin!”

His gaze lacks remorse. With another couple of slaps on each breast, he seethes, “Take the bra off.”

You huff through your nose. He tightens his grip. There’s only so much of this you can resist. Licking your lips, you push the sleeves of your dress off to finally remove your bra. Though your top half is exposed, the cool, late spring breeze hardening your nipples, your bottom half is still concealed under the skirt of your dress.

Seokjin releases your throat with a shove. You fall back on your elbows with a squeal. There hasn’t been a moment, a word hissed, a breath exchanged that you haven’t glared at him for. Sitting up, you have every intention of shoving him back. However, the moment you push yourself up, your lips find his. You want to say that you fought as hard as he did to be the one to have the upper hand, but you know you can’t. Not even a half-hearted effort was put into being the one to leer over the other. You surrendered within seconds, laying back down on the sheet as his frame hovered over yours.

He breaks the kiss and stretches his head back. You follow the silent command, instantly latching your wet lips onto his soft skin. You kiss, suck, lick at the sensitive flesh of his neck as he trails a hand down to your pussy. A little chuckle escapes him when he finds that you’re pantiless.

“Were you hoping I’d find you?” he asks. You bite down on his collarbone, earning yourself a smack on you pussy. “No panties and a fucking toy,” he whispers. “If you wanted me this badly, you should’ve just said so.”

Why does he have to waste such precious time running his mouth? You’re both needy for a fuck. Why won’t he just let that be it? There doesn’t have to be some sort of secret meaning hidden within every kiss received or touch offered.

Pulling your face out of the crook of his neck, you part your lips to tell him to just shut up and fuck you, when he adds, “That’s why you scared Rina away, right? And the others too?”

You flinch upon hearing her name.

Seokjin smirks. He cups your pussy and hums a quiet moan at the wet heat it radiates. “I really didn’t think you were the jealous type.”

You’re so ashamed, you can’t even meet his gaze to glare at him. Burying your face back into the crook of his neck, your clutch onto his broad shoulders and seethe, “Shut up.”

He pets your clit one stroke at a time. Eyes rolling back, you lean into his frame and hold on tight. You know he’s being gentle now, but if you learned anything from last night, it’s that Seokjin’s mood changes with the wind. His free hand wraps around you, further pressing your body into his. Only when your bare breasts are smushed against his covered chest do you realize that he’s still fully clothed. He’s never looked better in a white shirt and some jeans but you’d just wish he’d stop with all these games and strip enough to fuck you already.

Cupping your pussy again, he asks, “Do you want my cock, Little Doe?” You roll your hips into his hand and eagerly nod. Seokjin tightens his hold on your heat, drawing a little grunt out of you. “Then, answer the question, you dirty slut.”

“Yes, I want you,” you sigh, answering the second question. Though you know that’s not what he wanted you to reply to, you hope your lack of hesitance to confess other truths would be enough to end this line of questioning all together.

It’s not.

That hand he has on the small of your back, cradling you close to his frame, shoots up to your hair. He tugs on it, pulling your face out from the crook of his neck. You cry out in surprise. Shame rises from your gut at the realization that you love this rough act more than you should. Craning your neck more than necessary, he whispers against your lips, “Just be a good fucking girl for once, you pathetic brat, and tell me the truth.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shaky breath. You might have to admit your most shameful secret, but you refuse to look him in the eye while doing it. “Fine,” you huff. Voice trembling, you admit, “I was jealous.”

Seokjin places a soft kiss on your chin, a stark contrast to the rough grip he has on both your pussy and hair. “Good,” he mutters against your jawline. “Now, look me in the eye and say it again.”

A new rush of arousal pools into his hand. You feel him smirk against your skin. He knows all too well about your infatuation to be humiliated not to draw out every second of it.

You slowly open your eyes to meet his amused ones. “I was jealous,” you repeat with a shudder. The words sound even more pathetic the second time around. The little cracks in your voice don’t soothe the sting of that fact. “I hate you.”

Seokjin smiles. “Don’t ruin all your progress now, Little Doe. You were doing so well.”

“Fuckin-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. You don’t even have the strength within you to not give into him. What more do you have to stand for? Your pride? He’s clearly trampled all over it. Your hatred? You’re slowly starting to question the legitimacy of that feeling because kissing him has made you feel refreshed with giddy desire. And feeling him has ignited every nerve on fire. It feels similar to hate, you know it does. It twists your guts and crushes your heart. It weighs down on your chest and shatters any belief in any other possibility but him. When he kisses you, when he holds you, when he plays with you like this, all you can believe in is him.

The harsh grip on your scalp softens and softens until it’s no more. His hand releases your hair and trails around to your chin. He holds you by your jaw as he lays you down on the sheet. After another soft kiss, he removes his hand from your pussy and reaches for that long, smooth curved dildo instead. Much to his amusement, a little giggle escapes you. Your defenses have fallen sometime between the first use of slut and that second kiss. You should be ashamed by the fact that you’re visibly eager to be ruined by him but you aren’t. In fact, you relish in the fact that you’re excited for him to see you so vulnerable, so submissive. And he seems to enjoy that too.

Seokjin leers over you with a little smile. He pulls your jaw open and shoves the toy into your mouth. You hold his gaze while swirling your tongue around the heavy object. He pushes your hair back, admiring the way you gag every time he shoves the toy further into your mouth without warning. Tears only just prick your eyes when he finally pulls it out

“Was that too much?”

You shake your head.

He nods and moves the toy down. You spread your legs wider in anticipation. The two of you watch as he runs the side of the dildo between your folds before pushing it in.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you rest your head back down on the ground. Your pussy’s already clenching around it. His other hand wanders around your torso, slapping and groping your breasts. With your arms up over your head, you roll your hips up into his hand, desperate to make him move the dildo or, at the very least, turn it on.

“You want me to move it?”

“Yes.”

He smirks. “Suck my dick.”

Your eyes widen, glancing between him and his crotch. “The whole thing?” The moment the question leaves your lips, you internally cringe. The whole thing, you mockingly think. Why the fuck would he want half his dick sucked?

Seokjin chuckles. “If you think you can take it, yeah.” He nods down to his belt and says, “The whole thing.”

You gulp. Though the task is daunting, you can’t ignore how empty your throat feels. Chewing on your lip, you undo his pants and push it down to his knees with his underwear as well. His huge cock springs out, smacking you in the face.

“Ah~,” you gasp.

He only chuckles, positioning the tip in your already open mouth. Maybe he’s getting impatient, or maybe he just likes the fact that the moment his dick seems to appear, your jaw drops. Either way, you start sucking on his tip, swallowing his precum, and he watches you, a pleased smirk plastered on his face.

Propping up on your elbows, you level your face with his hips. It’s a bit easier to suck him off now, but you don’t dare get carried away. Already your jaw aches from his weight alone. Sucking and slurping, you lose yourself in your task to even realize that the toy’s moving inside you.

It’s not enough. It’s not the same. With his cock in your mouth, his girth and a quarter of his length down your throat, you just know that nothing can compare to this. That dildo, the one you’ve been using for a couple of years now, the one that has made you squirt more times than you can count, only seems like a poor excuse for a toy now.

You bring your hand up to his cock, pulling him out of your mouth for a breather. Quiet moans escape you, but it’s mainly due to the way he tastes. Jerking him off, you look up at him, pout your lips and ask, “Turn it on?”

Bringing his brows together, Seokjin licks his lips. “It turns on?”

You nod. He starts to shake his head at your request, but you open your mouth once more and smack his tip on your tongue. He pauses. You do it again and again, moaning erotically in hopes that the image would be pronogrpahic enough for him to finally agree.

For once, your plan works.

Seokjin mutters, “Turn it on then.”

You squeal in delight, waving a hand down towards your crotch to get the dildo started. It hums loudly, vibrating harshly against your walls as you set it to the highest intensity. He raises a brow down at the toy.

Worried he’d catch onto your actions, you quickly return to your ordered task. You deep-throat as much of him as you can without much of a warning and pump the rest of his cock at a quick, harsh pace. All the while, you're holding his gaze. However, even with the sight of tears streaming down your face and a mouthful of dick, Seokjin remains sharp and focused.

The moment you turned that vibrator on, he ceased all movements. Holding it still in your pussy, he watches you devour his cock to overcompensate for the fact that you indirectly disobey him. But judging by the cocky look in his eyes, you’re starting to think this is exactly what he thought would happen.

Realization hits you, mid-slurp, and you stop all movements. Warming his cock in your throat, you glare up at him through your blurry vision. This entire time you’ve been playing right into his hand. And why are you even taken aback by this discovery? You know you love it. He knows you love it. Why are you finding that so hard to admit yourself?

You’re about to pull him out but he holds onto the back of your head and pushes you back down on him. Gags vibrate around his cock at the same rate the toy buzzes in you. It’s uncontrollable and all he does is grunt and growl, throwing his head back. Seokjin knows he’s pushing your limits right now, but he doesn’t seem to care. Only when you grip onto his thigh does he let you go.

Wet and slobbery, you swallow mouthfuls of oxygen even while his tip rests on your tongue. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were the toy in this situation, not whatever’s vibrating in your pussy right now.

Seokjin takes the dildo out of you while gently nudging you to lay back down. “You’ll be a good girl now? You won’t try anything else?”

You scoff. “How is it fair that you get to play around all you want?”

Holding your gaze, he presses the edge of the toy against your clit. You instantly cry out and roll your hips into it. He then pulls it away and watches you whine and huff in frustration.

“That’s why.”

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you roll your eyes. “I can do that too.”

“You already did,” he points out, referring to your little attempt to try to distract him from the fact that you turned it on to any intensity you wanted. “Do I need to remind you how that turned out for you?”

Then it hits you. He wasn’t playing around; he was punishing you. A string of curses loops in your mind at how stupid you’ve been. You should’ve tried to humiliate him back, degrade him just as well as he had degraded you. You shouldn’t have inflated his ego like this. You shouldn’t have disregarded the one thing that has kept him in your life for this long; your pride.

Crossing your arms under your breasts, consequently pushing them together, you reply, “Do I need to remind you that you’re just as horny as I am?” Seokjin circles around your head so that he is leering right above you. You have to lean your head back to talk to him as you continue. “I know how hard you are, Jin. I know how badl-”

Seokjin cuts you off by smearing his tip over your lips. You fall silent. Staring up at him, you try to resist the urge to lick your lips. You do, however, open your mouth wide without being asked to. Though you tell yourself that you’re doing this because you want to, though you know deep down that everything you do is for him.

He spares no time with words. The moment you open your mouth, he leans forward and pushes his cock down your throat. His weighty balls fall against your forehead and large hands reach for your breasts to mount himself. He doesn’t move; he simply sits over your head while your throat keeps his cock warm.

He doesn’t fit. It doesn’t stop him from squeezing himself in. Your throat burns. The gags and tears don’t bother him. Your hands on his thighs, nails digging into his flesh, doesn’t faze him. The fact that he doesn’t fit isn’t an issue in his mind. He probably won’t fit in your pussy, but you both know that won’t stop him either.

As you choke on him, throat constricting, swallowing his length upon command, he grabs the vibrating dildo somewhere by your head and presses it against your clit once more. You can’t even moan with his cock this far down your throat. Your hips spasm, though, and legs tremble. You roll into the toy, squirming under his body.

“You really need a mouthful of dick to follow orders?” He asks over your gags and the buzzes of the vibrator. Slowly, he starts to pull out of you.

You want to say the first sound to escape you the moment he’s out is a gasp for fresh air, but you can’t. You moan instead. You moan his name. The denial will never die, so long as the truth is this obvious. Every breath you spend on him rather than yourself only further proves that fact.

He stays hovering behind your head, cock perched against your cheek, as he continues to get you off from this angle. Little chuckles fill the space between you with every desperate, broken moan of his name that pours out of you. Your panting, your throat’s aching, and yet all you can think, all you can say is “Jin, Jin, Jin.”

Pussy clenching, hips buckling, your orgasm nears. Looking up at him, you find his attention is locked on your crotch. A little smile tugs on your lips with that familiar sense of pride blushing in your chest. Captivating him like this turns you on too much to be able to soundly admit. Something about making him happy, making him lose himself over you makes you proud. Maybe you just like the attention, you tell yourself while wrapping your hand around his cock.

Curious and dark, his eyes snap back to yours. Moaning against his length, you stare up at him innocently. What’s the use of fighting your need for him… when he’s controlling that vibrator? As long as he’s in control, you know you’re going to have to give into every order blindly, especially if you want to cum. You tell yourself that you’ll do what he says because you haven’t had a good fucking in a while then push any opposing arguments to the side.

Seokjin smiks. “Close, Little Doe?”

So very close. You can’t hide the quaking of your legs. You’re just glad he’s not sitting near your pussy or he’d be able to see how much it quivers for him. Sucking harshly on his tip, you nod and hum, “Mhm.”

Your gasps are breathless, moans desperate as you feel your orgasm threaten to take over. Shutting your eyes, you throw your head back and-

“No!”

His obnoxious laugh meets your ears. You cry out curses as you sit yourself up and turn to look at him. Face blotched with tears, spit and precum, you glare at him. “You fucker!”

He only laughs harder. Having had enough of his games, you reach for the vibrator. You don’t need him; you can do it yourself… if he’ll let you, that is. Seokjin holds the toy out of reach once more when you attempt to grab it out of his hands.

“I was so close!” You whine, clutching onto the collar of his shirt.

Mocking your whines, he grabs onto your ass to keep you still. Your eyes then widen, the tip of his erection poking at your stomach. With the two of you now on your knees, battling for the upper hand, the desire to have him in you only intensifies. Your dress pools around your knees as you straighten your posture. The act of hooking a leg around his waist to jump on his cock is all too tempting. The fast murmurs of the vibrator is long forgotten now that all your mind can think about is how easy it would be to take what you want. That’s what he has been doing this whole time anyways, right?

Eyes dark and drenched in dominance, he smiles. He really thinks he’s won, that he’s got you wrapped around his finger. From a single glance, you know he believes you’ll do anything for him. And maybe if he hadn’t edged you that hard, you would’ve played right into his hand again. But, he got drunk off this control and it’s about time you reclaim it.

You may be naked, but you’re about to uncover every single one of his cocky glances and sly smirks. Destruction is your goal.

Softening your gaze, you pout your lips and press them to his chin. Seokjin stiffens. His grin falls. He brings his brows together and watches you carefully. You arch your back to push your ass further into his hand. Mewling against his jawline, you release his shirt and slither a hand to his neck.

Seokjin scoffs and lowers his hand, dropping the vibrator. Both his hands cup the underside of your ass, lifting you up and spreading your legs enough to position his cock between your folds. Biting back a smirk, you slither your other hand through his long, pulled back hair and exaggerate an innocent whine. He eats it up, rolling his hips into yours.

The little bit of friction against your clit only derails you for a second as your breath hitches. He’s getting too comfortable with this feigned submissive state you’re displaying. When he starts to massage your cheeks, you know you’ve got him hooked. He’s too vulnerable to predict your next move.

As his eyes flutter close and he leans in for a kiss, you grab onto his throat. His eyes shoot open, but it’s too late. You pull his head back by the grip on his hair and dig your nails into his neck. Bearing your teeth, you graze and nibble on his jawline. He spanks you as a means of retaliation, but the gasp that escapes you only adds to your anger.

“You really thought you could get away with that?” You question while tightening your grip on his throat. Seokjin gulps. You giggle when you feel his adam’s apple bob under your palm. “You should’ve let me cum, you pathetic slut.”

Using his words against him only seems to humour the situation. He laughs, trying to look at you despite the fact that you’re holding his head back. “Let me go before I lose my patience, Little Doe,” he rasps.

You’re the one that has a hold on him. He can’t tell you what to do. How does he even have the guts to taunt you when you’ve got him in such a degrading position. You clench your jaw and grunt.

“I won’t tell you again.” The humor in his tone has disappeared.

Huffing, you raise a brow. If you need to assure your dominance over him, then that’s exactly what you’ll do. Gathering your saliva, you spit over his lips. He flinches. “Lie the fuck down,” you order.

Seokjin darts his tongue out and licks his lips. Sighing, he whispers, “I’ll tell you what. If you can lay me down yourself, without using magic, I’ll apologize for everything.”

That tool. He must think the least of you if he’s willing to bargain this much. You’re about to tell him to shut up and do as you say, but then he smirks. He really believes you can’t do it. Anger doesn’t fully encompass your feelings towards him, and neither does rage at this point. You’re livid. Heart pumping a vicious dose of spite and pride, you release his throat and attempt to shove him down by his shoulders.

He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even pretend to be affected. You should’ve known better than you push him by his strongest point. His shoulders are massive; of course, they’d keep him up. Your next attempt focuses on his chest as you try to shove him down from there. Seokjin chuckles, biting his lip to keep the rest of his laughter in.

“Just give up,” you shout while trying to climb over him. The hope of your body weight being enough of a factor to bring him down, backfires. Now you’re the one locked in his grip. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, breasts in his face.

“I was just about to say the same thing to you,” he smiles.

You let go of his hair. Both hands grip onto his shoulders as you watch his messy hair come undone. A few strands fall over his eyes. From this angle, with his long hair everywhere and chin leaning into your breasts, he looks harmless, perhaps even enchanting. He’s beautiful. That’s a fact you can never deny. It’s been true the moment you saw him all those years ago and it’s true now. But that amount of dominance is all your pride is willing to accept at this point.

Pushing those soft strands of hair out of his face, you whisper, “Lay down, Jin.”

Seokjin shakes his head, nuzzling his face between your breasts. Your breath hitches as he makes himself comfortable by kissing and biting just under each tit; your most sensitive areas. Eyes fluttering shut, head falling back, you let yourself get lost in the gentle pleasure for a moment. But then, his teeth graze your skin a little bit harder than necessary.

Your eyes snap open, hands rushing through his hair to pull his head back. Glaring down at him, you’re about to scold him for thinking he can take over you like that and not expect to be punished. Little do you know, he’s thinking the same exact thing.

Before you can even part your lips, Seokjin’s patience has disappeared. He lays you down with ease, making quick work of pinning your hands over your head. You grunt and roll your hips against his stomach as a means to push him off, or so you tell yourself. Seokjin only plays into it as he rolls his body back into you. He chuckles when he feels your pussy quiver from the slightest bit of friction. You're too needy to put up more of a fight for your control back. And while that fact has already come and gone for Seokjin, you’re still making your peace with it.

“You’re so fucking lucky you’re this cute,” he purrs. “Or I would’ve pounded that attitude out of you the first time you acted out.”

It’s condescending, absolutely degrading, yet you’re gushing for more. Pussy throbbing, you whine and attempt to pull your wrists out of his hold. You don’t make much progress. Seokjin smirks down at you. He leans in for a kiss and the temptation to give in returns. It trickles into your heart in quiet whispers. However, your pride is louder, slithering into your soul in booming echoes. So as his lips near yours, instead of puckering, you spit.

He flinches. “I was so close to forgiving you, Little Doe.”

“I haven’t apologized.”

“Yet.”

You part your lips to tell him to go to hell, when suddenly you're turned over. Face smushed into the ground, body flat but ass up and hands held behind you, you’re entirely at his mercy. A soft cloth, you can only guess was the wrap of your lunch box, finds its way around your wrists, binding them tightly.

“Ji- Ah~”

The smack of his hand coming down on your ass echoes in the vacant space. With your face towards the cityscape, you can see a few people look around for the source. If a single person glances up at the peak, they’d find your naked body completely submissive to Seokjin’s clothed one. The risk causes your arousal to tickle down your thigh.

Whether or not Seokjin is aware of the fact that he’s calling the attention of an audience doesn’t matter much to you. And even if it did and you wanted to ask him about it, you wouldn’t have the chance. After another spank, Seokjin pushes your asscheeks up and apart to bury his tongue in your pussy. You circle your hips at the warm sensation of his mouth against your heat. Moans and curses mixed with praises pour out of you as he sips on every wet drop of yours. He groans at the taste, completely entrenched in your needy pussy to pull away.

“Oh, yes, there, you fucker,” you moan as his tongue swipes between your folds. Another spank meets your ass at the insult. You cry out a moan, but don’t care enough to stop. “That’s cute,” you whine. Though your words may be condescending, your tone betrays your intentions. You sound more broken and needy than ever. Each word sounds more like a plea rather than an insult.

Seokjin rather heard the former. He laps up a good amount of your wetness, then brings his glistening lips up to your asshole. After spitting the wet mixture over your hole, he reaches for the abandoned, still buzzing vibrator.

“Ever use this in your ass?” He asks while swirling the spit mixed juices around your hole with the tip of the vibrator.

You shudder a whine, fisting your hands to keep yourself focused. “No,” you sigh. “The most I’ve put in is two fingers.”

Seokjin chuckles as he pushes the tip in a good inch or two. You squeal loudly and screw your eyes shut from the buzzing, blissfully burning sensation of the vibrator’s stretch. “Well, after today you can say you’ve put in a bit more than that.”

As he massages your cheeks, tongue relatching onto your heat, you realize you really are just a toy to him, a little play thing, a set of holes to entertain him. And you should hate him for that, hate him for stealing your things, for reading your secrets, for making you love him all these years, but you don’t. You can’t hate someone as wonderfully prideful as you. You can’t despise his hardheaded tendencies or the fact that he must always be right. Because, though these traits may get you in some trouble, they’re possibly your favourite things about yourself. You love the challenge of proving yourself, and you know he does too. And of all the stupid men you’ve been with, Seokjin’s the only one that understands how to pleasure you, to provoke you beyond repair.

The more you think about everything you’ve done to him out of spite and everything he’s done to you in return, the more you crave his cock. Pushing back against his lips, you hiss, “When the fuck are you planning to fuck me?”

He sits back and lets his hand take over his tongue’s work. Two fingers rub between your folds and tease your entrance as he replies, “Think you can take the whole thing, Little Doe?”

Just when you were thinking you actually love the guy, he goes and throws your words back in your face. You’re starting to wonder if you’re insane for wanting him even more now. “Why don’t you stick it in and find out, you fucking thief,” you reply between quiet moans.

His grip on your ass softens and he takes his fingers out at the reference. Though your heart’s telling you to drop it and charm him once more, your pride encourages you to continue. “Maybe this pussy might fuck some honour back in you. Maybe you’ll learn not to take what isn’t yours.”

That harsh hold returns. Both his hands grab onto your ass in a deadly grip as he darkly chuckles and asks, “What makes you think I’m the one being taught a lesson? Aren’t you the one tied up?”

His questions are irreverent, you tell yourself. With that vibrator in your ass and your pussy empty of his touch, all you can think about is how badly you need to be filled. “You annoying little shit,” you hiss over your shoulder. “Just fuck me already.”

He smacks your pussy, making you cry out his name like the slut you know you are for him. “Watch your mouth, whore,” he warns. His voice is heavy with lust and dominance. You can’t help but push your hips back towards him from his tone alone. “Or, I swear, I’ll make you sorry you ever talked to me seven years ago.”

“You fucker! You spoke to me first!”

“Are you serious right now? I’m threatening to fuck the shit out of you and you want to argue about who spoke to who first?”

You huff a shaky breath. “You’re avoiding the topic because you know you’re wrong.”

“You just love lying, don’t you?”

How the fuck are you the liar? Fighting against the restraints, you explain over your shoulder, “I was minding my own business in my compartment and your dumbass-”

Seokjin shoves the half-eaten peach in your mouth, cutting you off. You bite into it to get a piece out so the rest could fall, but you end up hitting the pit. Chin sticky with peach juice, you scream into the fruit and try to glare at him over your shoulder. Seokjin simply pushes your face into the ground, leans over your flattened body and purrs, “I’ve heard enough from you, slut. Lying, screaming. You even think you can boss me around.” He chuckles a bit at his last sentence before continuing, “You’re going to apologize to me, (Y/N).”

“Never!” You scream into the peach. However, all he hears is a two syllable grunt.

No matter. The fact that you spoke back is enough to spur him on. He let’s go of your head and sits back up. You go to lift your head off the ground, but he pulls your hips up before you have the chance. He positions his cock between your folds then aligns it with your entrance. You only have the opportunity to suck in half a breath before he’s pushing himself in.

You were right before to assume he wouldn’t fit. His girth alone is thick enough to make you cry into the fruit with every bit he further attempts to slide in. The stretch is so sweet, so harsh. You’re obsessed with how fucking big he is and how well he makes room for himself between your walls. Peach juice and drool runs down your chin, your neck, and stains the sheet. A mewling, sticky mess already and he’s not even halfway in. You need to stop losing yourself over him though, if you intend on keeping your apologies to yourself.

However, the vibrator partly lodged in your ass is not helping your attempt to stay still and sane. And every inch he continues to push in has you rolling eyes. Is it humiliating to admit you want this everyday, every night, every moment of your life? Is it disgraceful to wish he was yours always? Is it unreasonable to want to be his one and only? Him, him, him. All you want, all you crave is more him.

He finally bottoms out. Maybe you’re whipped for his dick, or too horny to think straight, but you can almost certainly swear on both your lives that the imprint of his cock is bulging from your stomach. You can feel it against the floor. The realization makes you shudder and whimper into the fruit.

“Tightest fucking cunt,” he whispers to himself. He then suddenly leans over your body, his stomach nudging the vibrator in a bit more, and kisses up your spine. A bundle of shivering nerves follow his trail up to the curve of your ear. “You know,” he starts in a whisper. “You look a lot like a little annoyed kitten when you’re angry.”

You scratch at his stomach from your constrained position and groan into the peach.

“See?” He darkly chuckles. “I live to see your nose twitch and eyes go dark whenever I piss you off. You just look so cute, Little Doe.” Hips pulling back, he continues, “I just can’t resist.”

“Fuck you.”

The clap of skin on skin is enough of a reply. Your eyes roll back and jaw clenches, teeth clattering against the peach pit. He starts slow, breathing heavily in your ear, making you clench around his cock for more. But then, he straightens his posture and holds onto your hands to build some momentum. With his heavy balls smacking against your clit as he speeds up, the most you can do is muffle your moans and whines into the fruit and pray you’ll mentally survive this.

It’s all too good to be true. His length hits all the right places and then some, bringing grateful tears in your eyes that you’re thankful he can’t see. If he knew you were slowly becoming a sobbing mess for his cock too, then he’d never let you live it down.

Seokjin then lets go of your hands, leaving you grabbing at the air, and shifts his hold to your ass. Using the meat of your cheeks, he pulls you forward and back to meet him halfway. He groans your name with every smack of his hips against your ass. You’re dripping off his tongue, entrenched in his very being by the way he chants your name. And though you’re the one tied and gagged like a suckling pig, utterly submitting to him and his dominance, the fact that he’s high off you is enough validation of power for you to enjoy his cock guilt-free.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You whine back without much thought. Only when he pounds into you three more times does your mind catch up to his word. Beautiful? Did he just call you beautiful? Was that supposed to be demeaning? Because, even if it wasn’t, you seem to be getting closer and closer to your high.

You grunt a broken question into the fruit. Seokjin pushes in deep and leans over your body once more. Placing a soft kiss to your cheek, he takes out the mulled peach and asks, “What was that, Little Doe?”

“Do you mean it?”

The question trickles out of you in cracked cries of pleasure. And though you may sound weak and dick-hungry, the question is still strong enough to stun him. Soon, however, his senses find him once more. Circling his hips into your ass, cock swirling your juices deep within you and rubbing against your needy walls, he repeats in a dark whisper, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

And as you moan his name in affirmation, he continues his thrusts in and out of you. The pace is slower than before, but the force is just as brutal.

Seokjin takes a bite from the peach. In fact, it’s the same bite you took, only he avoids the pit. He then sticks half the piece out of his mouth, holding it out for you. You meet his lips halfway, taking a bite off while kissing him. The juices smear down both your faces, but you’re all too consumed with the filthy act of exchanging saliva to care.

Pulling away, Seokjin holds your chin until you finish chewing and swallowing the piece. “Why couldn’t you swallow my cum like that last night?” He playfully asks.

“I didn’t know-” You cut yourself off, the realization of your words catching up to your mind just in time.

He raises a brow, ramming his hips even harder into you. “Didn’t know what, Little Doe?”

You shake your head.

Seokjin drops the peach and grabs your hair. “Tell me.”

“No,” you mewl.

“Tell me or I won’t let you cum.”

The threat is enough to give you pause, but not nearly enough to make you confess. Then, he stills his hips mid thrusts and ups the stakes. “Tell me, Little Doe, and I’ll tell you the truth about the letters.”

The letters. The offer is more than tempting, but how can you be sure it's real? You swallow thickly, trying to sneak a good look at him in your peripherals. From the glances you’re able to get, you can tell that he’s serious. Gulping every fear and nag of your pride, you push your ego aside and confess, “I didn’t know I was in love with you then.”

Seokjin pauses for a moment. He releases your hair then sighs. Have you said too much? Before you can really think about it, he presses a wet kiss to your cheek and continues with his movements into you. “I love you too, my little slut,” he purrs before returning to his previous position behind you.

His little slut. You’re all his. However, you don’t have much time to relish over this newfound information as he takes up a speed you’ve never experienced before. He’s harsh and his cock viciously rams in and out of you while pushing the vibrating dildo further into your ass. You cry out a broken sob and nuzzle your tear and peach juice stained face into the sheet.

Your pussy tightens around his cock as you edge your orgasm. “C-Can I?” You ask, fearful he’ll deny you the truth if you don’t, or so you try to convince your ego that.

“Of course, Little Doe,” he grunts. “I’m no liar.”

You want to dive into his words, the meanings behind them and why he chose now, of all the times, to tell you that. But, with your orgasm taking over, all you can focus on is trying to breathe. Eyes rolling back and twitching, mouth hung open, ears like sirens with their ringing, and pussy gushing, you reach your peak. Crying out his name, you cum all over his cock.

Seokjin is relentless. He does not still his hips for a split second. In and out, he dives. He’s adamant on riding you through this and reaching his own high as well. “Tell me again,” he orders. “Tell me how you feel again, baby.”

Destruction is your goal, but you never thought to be at the receiving end of it. Your mind feels foggy, heart racing and pussy aching with that sweet relief of releasing all you have for him. And though you might have thought that that second time you confess your feelings to him might break you, you find that it gives you strength instead.

“I love you,” you breathlessly cry.

You just finish the confession when he pulls in deep and shoots ropes of his cum into you. The tears in your eyes have no bounds. The stimulation is proving to be too much as you squirm in place. Seokjin quietly shushes you while grinding into your pussy to sprout every last drop into you.

“Please, please,” you tremble. “It’s too mu-ch, Jin.”

Seokjin pulls the dildo out of your ass, and turns it off before tossing it near your head. With his cock still deep in you, he unbinds your hands. You bring your hands to either side of your head, sighing at the relief of the strain. Then, finally, he slowly pulls out of you. You let out a staggered whimper and close your eyes to try to contain yourself from crying out once more. You’re sure at this point that a few people must’ve seen you. You’re in the broad daylight, laying on the highest hill and screaming at the top of your lungs. Surely, you’ve caught a handful of attention.

Once he’s fully out of you, Seokjin flips you over on your back. You avoid his gaze and bring your knees into your chest. He smiles and holds onto your ankles.

“I’m not sure if I want to clean you up or not,” he thinks out loud. You're too light headed to answer, but the hard look in your eyes when you finally meet his gaze is enough to make him laugh. “Guess I’m gonna leave you to walk around with my cum all day, Little Doe.”

“That’s not fair,” you sigh.

Seokjin tuts. “Don’t whine,” he orders while pressing soft kisses upon your knees. He then pulls his briefs and pants up. And just like that, he’s fully dressed. The only indication that something dirty occurred is the dripping stain of peach juice on his white shirt.

A part of you can’t bring itself to care if his cum stays in you or not. He’s fucked you beyond comprehension and you still have yet to regain your senses. His eyes flash with worry when you don’t fight him on his decision.

“Are you okay?”

You only nod, all too fucked out to use words.

“Need help sitting up?”

He interprets the half-hearted glare you shoot him as the yes you intended. He holds his hands out for you and you take them without a second thought. A smile graces his features as he pulls you off the ground. You tuck your legs under you when you finally sit back up. Your dress crumples under you and you can’t even be bothered to pull it out.

Seokjin, barely even heaving, watches you try to compose yourself. “How are you not as tired as I am?” You question between pants.

“Because I’m better than- Ow!”

You swat his shoulder and glare at him. “Finish that sentence and you won’t get any tonight,” you threaten before turning your attention back to your dress. You pull it out from under your and try to turn it inside in.

Seokjin scoffs, flipping the dress over so you can finish your task easier. “You really think you’ll be able to go again tonight too?”

Licking your lips, you hold his gaze and pull your dress back on. “If the truth doesn’t destroy you,” you start, buttoning up your dress, “Then, you can have me every night.”

He slowly nods along to your words. Curling a strand of his hair behind his ear, he sighs and finally confesses, “I did steal the letters.”

Your heart shatters into your gut. Clenching your jaw, you attempt to hold back your tears. Yes, you’ve accused him of it over and over again, but every time he denied it, you believed him. Never did you really believe he was this capable of being cruel.

The trembling sigh that escapes you makes him turn his body fully towards you. “I didn’t take them from you though,” he quickly adds.

“My owl is an extension of me, asswipe,” you seethe, voice almost breaking.

Seokjin shakes his head and corrects his statement, “No, I mean I didn’t take them from you at all. I caught someone reading them in the restricted section.”

You scoff, looking off into the town with a shake of your head. This is unbelievable. Does he honestly think he can copy your someone claim and get away with it? “Someone?”

He raises a brow at you. “What? Suddenly that sounds stupid? That’s all you’ve been telling McGonagall.”

You snap your eyes back to him and shout, “That’s the truth! Someone told-”

“I know it was Mitch,” he cuts off.

“How can you be so sure? It could’ve-”

“Because that’s who I found with your letters.”

You freeze. No. No! Mitch is a Slytherin, a friend. Why the hell would he steal your letters and then tell you about it? And if he did read them, then he knows the truth about you. So why hasn’t his demeanour around you changed? Why hasn’t he told anyone else?

“I thought you were going to tell me the truth.”

“(Y/N), I swear this is the entirety of it. I took them from him the moment I recognized your handwriting,” he explains. Seokjin shifts closer to you and pushes your hair out of your face. “He told me that if I told you what he did, then he'd tell the school about your blood status.”

Nothing can stop the tears pooling in your eyes. You try to blink them back, but that only provokes a few to fall. Seokjin goes to wipe them only to have you push his hand away. “So you know?” You whisper in hopes that it will mask the cracks in your voice.

It doesn’t.

“No one cares that you’re muggle born, (Y/N),” he sighs.

“So why didn’t you tell McGonagall the truth then? Why’d you hide it for this long if no one will care? We both know there’s a good chunk of each house that will hunt me down if they knew.”

He shakes his head. “You know that’s not true. I didn’t tell anyone because I knew it would hurt you. You’re just scared you’d lose your power over everyone. Being half blood gains you just as much respect as being a muggle born.”

Your tears act on their own accord now, falling freely down your face. This time when Seokjin goes to wipe them away, you don’t reject him. He cups your face and says, “And if anyone does try to hurt you because of that-”

“You’ll make their life a living hell?” You mockingly finish.

Seokjin smirks. “No, my girlfriend will,” he chuckles, genuine eyes boring into yours. “She’s really beautiful and she’s not afraid to take what’s hers. And she’s actually really scary. I’m really terrified of what she’ll do next sometimes.”

You fight off the urge to smile as much as you can while he speaks. “You better be talking about me or I swear, Jin, I’ll-”

“See? She’s already making threats and I’m complimenting her,” he laughs.

A little giggle tumbles out of your lips. As you finally let yourself smile, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a tight hug. “Thank you,” you mutter into his shoulder.

Seokjin is quick to hold onto your waist. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck. “You know you’ll be okay, Little Doe.”

The nickname has never made you smile as much as this before. And though your ego is still larger than him, your pride finally takes the back seat. Swallowing thickly, you pull away from him and mumble, “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?”

You huff through your nose and only just raise your voice, “I’m sorry.”

Seokjin knits his brows and leans in, “What?”

“For fuck’s sake, you alpaca, I said I’m sorry!”

“Oh, you were serious?” He asks with a playful smirk.

You internally curse yourself for being so in love with an idiot and shake your head. Your nose twitches a bit and Seokjin can’t help but throw his head back as he laughs. “I don’t know why I try,” you mutter to yourself.

Seokjin grabs onto your wrist and pulls you into his lap. You give in without another word and let him cradle you close to his chest. “You don’t need to apologize for anything,” he mutters against your hair. “I know you didn’t mean to start that fire.”

You snap your head up at him. “Really?”

“I told McGonagall the same thing but she kept asking if I knew who else would do that, so I just stopped trying.”

He really tried. This whole time you were convinced he thought the worse of you, that he didn’t care if you ever returned to Hogwarts, but he really was trying to help you. How long has he known he’s been in love with you too? Wrapping your arms around him, you reach up for another gentle kiss. The act of kissing him seems so natural now, so right and real. The way your lips move against each other isn’t like something you’ve felt before. You want this always; you want him always.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”

You pull away from Seokjin with a start. His eyes dart to something behind you as his hands quickly move to hide the dark green dildo behind him. Quickly crawling out of his lap, you jump to your feet and stand an arm's length away from Seokjin. He follows your lead, standing up as you press your thighs together.

Your mixed cum threatens to fall with every passed second you remain standing. Cursing yourself for not making him clean it up, you try to stay calm. As long as it doesn’t drip pass the hem of your dress, you know you’ll be fine

Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Trelawney hover just over the edge of the hill as they look between the two of you. How long have they been watching you? How much did they hear? Oh fuck, you think, how much did they see?

You remain perfectly still as both of them land and dismount. “We’ve been looking everywhere for the two of you. Your lunch break finished twenty minutes ago,” Professor Trelawney sighs. “I was worried you were hurt.”

“We’re fine,” you reply.

“Just fine,” Seokjin echoes.

McGonagall flickers her attention between the two of you. “What were you so busy doing that you lost track of time?” She questions.

Swallowing thickly, you mutter, “That’s a good question.”

“Really good question.”

Turning to Seokjin, you quietly ask, “Are you going to do that the entire time?”

“What? I’m not allowed to talk?”

“Not if you’re gonna act like a parrot.”

“Ahem…”

Silence falls over the both of you the moment McGonagall clears her throat. Once she has regained your attention, her gaze falls on something to your right. All eyes follow your line of sight to find your lace bra by your lunch box. You bring a hand to your mouth to keep your jaw from dropping in sheer embarrassment.

“And how long has this been going on?”

“Since last night,” Seokjin replies with almost no prompting.

You swat his arm, shooting him a pointed look. “Are you kidding me?”

“Oh,” McGonagall hums. She then turns to Professor Trelawney and says, “You were right. They are getting along. Well, this won’t be so hard to say then.”

You hold your breath. Here it is. The results of your investigation. All questions about your future as a witch in training will finally come to an end. Seokjin shifts closer to you and his hand finds yours. You turn to meet his gaze as he squeezes your hand.

“Mr. Kim Seokjin,” the headmistress starts, “Congratulations. You will be returning to Hogwarts first thing tomorrow morning.”

However, Seokjin doesn’t move. He doesn’t even so much as let out a shaky breath. He simply continues to hold your hand and stare at McGonagall. You attempt to squeeze his hand to let him know you’re okay, but he still doesn’t budge.

McGonagall quirks her head at him, asking, “Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Kim.”

“Yes,” he finally states. When the headmistress nods for him to continue, he exhales deeply and says, “I won’t let you expel her for something she didn’t do.”

A smirk plays on her lips. “That’s very noble of you, Mr. Kim. But Miss (L/N) is not being expelled for something she didn’t do.”

“(Y/N) didn’t start the fire.”

“Quite so,” McGonagall agrees. Your eyes widen and for a moment you don’t think you’re breathing at all. “That’s why she will be returning with you in the morning.”

A child-like laughter you’ve never heard before escapes you at the announcement. “Really?” You ask, and when both professors smile and nod, you jump into Seokjin’s arms. He wraps his arms around you instantly, lifting you off the ground.

However, in the haste of his movements, Seokjin drops the one thing redeeming your pride before your professors. Upon impact, the dildo hums to life and all smiles are suddenly gone. Both you and Seokjin rush to turn it off with a wave of your hand, but it only seems to intensify the vibrations. Finally, McGonagall pulls out her wand and silences the toy.

You can’t even bear to look at her, keeping your eyes trained on the ground. Seokjin opens his mouth to explain but the headmistress shakes her head, “The less we know the better.”

After a beat of silence, she hands each of you your wands and expresses her excitement to see you in the halls once more. And as she summons her broom up into her hand, Seokjin asks the headmistress, “So was it an accident then?”

“No, I’m afraid someone intended to hurt you,” she sighs, “The both of you actually.”

You share a concerned look with Seokjin. “Who?”

“Someone,” she smirks as she mounts onto your broom. “We look forward to having you back at Hogwarts.”

The two of you thank both of your professors before they fly back to the cafe.

Seokjin wraps his arm lazily around your waist and pulls you into his chest. He smiles down at you before cupping your face and softly pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, relishing in your secured position at school.

“I knew it,” he says upon breaking the kiss.

You roll your eyes and fight off a smile. “You did not. You were shaking when you thought I wasn’t coming back,” you tease.

He grabs a handful of your ass. Raising a brow, he mutters, “Says the one on the verge of tears.”

“I don’t cry.”

Seokjin has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He clears his throat, nods, then says, “I know, Little Doe.”

Your breath somewhat hitches. Did he just try to save your pride? “Wow, you really are in love with me,” you mumble.

You didn’t expect your words to ignite the egoistic part of him, but suddenly his expression hardens and his pride is on the line. “Never said in love.”

“Why are you lying?”

“You’re the liar.”

“Do you wanna go over…”

Your bickering lasts for either of you to even remember what set you off to begin with. And though your words knock each other’s pride only to build it again, and the pranks have not ceased to exist, you both know that nothing can change what you found, the love you found in each other on the tip of Doe’s Peak.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #btsguild #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bangtanhq #magicshopnet #seokjin smut #jin smut #kim seokjin smut #bts hogwarts au #bts smut

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manikas-whims · 3 years

Text

A Tantalizing Surprise

[Read on AO3]

for Kanej Week (@kanejweek) Day 5: Love (domesticity)

It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up..

• Friend 1: write Inej in a silk dress and some sexy Kanej moment Friend 2: No! Write injured Kaz being patched up by Inej Me: *an unbiased friend* mixes both requests into this fic ~♥ • I headcanon Liddies being a gang run by women :)

Kaz Brekker utterly despised private parleys. Majority of the time they were a farce. Excuses crafted in order to get him alone and put an end to his reign forever. Everytime a haughty barrel boss offered him a drink or a condescending mercher invited him for dinner, it wasn't for the sake of striking amiable business deals with him. But to drive a knife through his rotten heart or shoot a bullet into that scheming head of his.

And yet he had agreed to meet the leader of the Liddies in a small coffee house on the bustling streets of the East Stave. They were stirring up too much ruckus and if left unchecked any longer, they'd embolden every other gang to go against the Dregs. Dirtyhands couldn't let that happen, now could he?

As suspected, no pleasantries were exchanged. The door was jammed shut immediately upon his arrival.

Their lieutenant, a burly, middle-aged brunette, attacked first. She tried smashing her wooden bat into his face but thankfully Anika blocked in time with a crowbar. Two other females followed, swinging rustic metal pipes at him which he managed to counter with his cane. Roeder was struggling on the other side, engaged in a one-on-one with their spider.

"This ends tonight, Brekker." Their leader howled from her perch atop a stool. "Barrel needs a queen."

"Barrel already has one." He responded calmly.

"The little whore? The one who's barely in this city?" she grinned sharply, getting up.

"Careful." His gaze turned steely and his gloved fingers flexed tensely onto the crow head of his cane. "I can gut you and your ladies for insulting my Wraith."

"I'd like to see you try." She sneered, madly lunging at him with her bare hands.

He sighed. This was going to be a long night.

The fight lasted for an hour. Liddies finally ran off when more Dregs arrived on the scene and broke down the coffee house's door.

Kaz dictated his gang to double the security around the Crow Club and his other establishments just in case. He then dug his fingers into his right leg in hopes of quelling a little of the ache there as he dragged himself back to his place. Not the slat anymore but a luxurious mansion on the Geldstraat. He had purchased it under a pseudonym after Councilman Hoede had passed away three years ago.

Blame Wylan for making him waste his kruge on a deadman's house. Though the dark wood walls and coffered ceilings looked amazing upon his first visit, he did get a few things renovated. Such as converting the dilapidated Grisha workshop into an ordinary shed and the addition of wild geraniums to the vast variety of flowering plants in the gardens.

Despite his habits, he pulled out a key that he kept within the hidden pocket on the left side of his coat and swiftly unlocked the large, black, entrance gates. The next few minutes of the long walk through the front stone pavement didn't feel regal, atleast not to his leg. He retrieved another key upon reaching the main doors. It was an odd experience every time— to enter a house this big without utilizing his skills in lock-picking.

He didn't stop to admire the blown glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling or the stolen DeKappel displayed mockingly on the opposite end of the hall. He simply braced himself for the walk up the long staircase leading towards the more private quarters of the mansion.

His steps came to a halt only when he reached the master bedroom. And that too, not because it had been his destination all along but because he felt her presence.

He shook his head in disbelief. Maybe six months of being apart were taking a toll on him, playing tricks with his senses. Or maybe it was just an effect of blood loss due to the cut he'd taken during the fight with the Liddies.

He turned the knob and entered, the room same as ever. A bookshelf tucked in the left corner from the door, a vanity table with a full-length mirror right next to it; a door leading to the balcony and another door to the bathroom on the other end. And of course, the king-size bed atop which his eyes found her tantalizing form, aglow under the golden flame of the dimly burning lone candle.

Kaz regarded her silently. Her lithe frame was covered in a purple, silk nightgown that left barely anything to his imagination. Or rather, it was exactly the sight he envisioned every night. An ideal reverie where he pulled her onto his lap and kissed down the delicious curve of her neck. A fantasy where he relished in her whispers of his name. A fantasy where they did all the unholy things they're capable of now. A fantasy he had been yearning for yet kept locked in the darkest recesses of his twisted mind.

But this was different. This woman in his bed had longer hair and was far more breathtaking than any imagery he could will his mind to conjure. This was real. She was real.

"Saints!" She slid off the bed. "Kaz, what happened?"

Yes, she was real.

And she had chosen an interesting outfit for their reunion.

But it was unusual of her to dock in Ketterdam and not send a runner to let him know. Not to mention, she had somehow managed to sneak into their mansion without any keys.

"You're hurt!"

He scoffed at her concern and proceeded to discard his coat. After all the times they've fought and bled together, she should be used to witnessing him a little roughed up.

He peeled off his gloves with methodical ease and tossed them onto the table. Then he tentatively reached for one of her hands, his thumb stroking along the pulse in her wrist. There was no harm in confirming she was real and alive.

"Welcome back, Wraith."

She freed her wrist, completely ignoring his greeting, and placed her palms over his stubbled cheeks. Fortunately, no waves lapped up his skin. So he let her turn his face this way and that to check for any signs of injuries. When she found none, she smiled in relief and pulled his face down so their lips could meet. His arms immediately snaked around her waist. And he was glad her only reaction was a soft sound of contentment, not tensing or vanishing in his hold. It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up and worked together to get accustomed to one another's touch.

The contact overwhelmed him everytime, in a good way of course. It was exhilarating to be able to brush his lips against hers. A common gesture for most couples but a very big accomplishment for them. Just like everything else.

Everytime they shed a piece of their armor, touched longer, touched more, they counted it as a new milestone. He was thankful to their patience and to whichever of Inej's saints had blessed them for their persistent efforts.

The kiss deepened with every passing moment, all those months of separation provoking their dormant desires. But as soon as his tongue slid past her mouth, he felt a twinge of pain in his abdomen and broke away. "Fuck! What the hell, Wraith!?"

In trailing her hands along his torso, she had accidentally discovered the cut wound on the left side of his lower abdomen. She glared down at the small dot of blood staining his clothes. "You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation!"

He laughed at the furrow of her brows as she pushed him back until he was seated in a chair. "Takes one to know one."

He heard her huff before she disappeared inside the bathroom and returned seconds later with a roll of bandage, cotton swabs, and a disinfectant.

The blade of the knife had torn past both his vest and shirt but fortunately, barely grazed his skin. The cut wasn't deep or life-threatening, only seeping slow trickles of blood. However, that didn't stop his fiercely gentle partner from worrying. She began undoing the buttons on his vest and in the heat of the moment, he joked. "Someone is eager."

This time she glared at him directly and resumed her task. She was cautious in shrugging off the vest. Even more whilst removing his sweaty shirt.

As soon as the disinfectant-soaked cotton pad grazed his wound, he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Care to explain why I wasn't informed of your arrival?" He gritted out through the light haze of pain. He wasn't mad. But had he known, he would've cleared his schedule for her. Denied that parlay altogether and avoided being injured.

Her hands hesitated in cleaning the blood. "I wanted to surprise you."

Now his brows quirked.

"And was this part of the surprise?" He stared at the thin slip of nightdress snug on the curves of her beautiful body. His voice lowered an octave. "You put this on for me?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, a small action he had noticed her doing when in contemplation. "My intention was to doll-up for the King of the Barrel."

He shook his head, tugging on the hem of her dress. "Seems to me the Queen of the Seas was intent on arousing me with her alluring silks."

She punched his shoulder lightly. "You're bruised and bleeding and this is what you think?"

"Inej," He spoke earnestly, his ardent gaze focused on her as she continued bandaging him, "I always think about you."

"Aside from when I'm out there making money." He added as an afterthought.

She giggled.

He waited until she was done tying the last knot of the bandage to stand up. His fingers disappeared beneath her dress, glided tenderly over the flesh of her thighs in the moment he lifted her up. Her legs naturally came to wrap around his waist and she looked at him. "Kaz?"

He responded with a soft, lingering kiss before pulling back, his breath fanning her lips. "Still in the mood to surprise me?"

She nodded, her eyes averted shyly for once as he carried her towards the shower.

#kanej #kanej week 2021 #kanej fanfiction #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #day 5 #love #domesticity

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phantomrose96 · 4 years

Text

Hero Syndrome

There’s a young woman who has admired the Symbol of Peace for her entire life.

She doesn’t remember the first time she saw him on television. He’s just always been there as an eternal, unshakable constant – a comfort through every part of her life – promising to save anyone who needs him. And he does save her, even if he doesn’t know it. Because it’s his laughter, his smile, his ease and assurance speaking about rescues that keeps the flame burning in her heart when she had nothing else to cling to. He is the guiding light for her life that had no other purpose in it.

She is ignited with an all-consuming drive to follow in his footsteps. And it is a drive that defines her more than her own name.

She wants to save people with a smile. She wants to pull people from the depths of despair. She wants to stand at the top of the world and say “It’s alright now, because I am here.” if only so she can pay him back for all the comfort he’s given her in her life.

Posters of the Symbol of Peace find their way onto her walls, into her binders and desktop backgrounds. She joins no clubs so she can spend all her free time honing her quirk. She runs more, and lifts more, and trains more than anyone else. The future she imagines every day has her standing at his side, and it is a bright, bright future.

She doesn’t get into U.A.

As much as she prepared herself for it, the reality is crushing. She sobs into her bedspread when the rejection letter comes, and stops briefly to peel the posters off the walls first, so the Symbol of Peace cannot see her cry like this. Heroes shouldn’t cry. Heroes shouldn’t give up. She can’t either. Her 4th-choice school has sent her an acceptance letter, and she’ll make sure that’s still good enough. She vows to keep working harder than everyone at U.A. to make up for it.

She graduates from her hero course as valedictorian. She’s given a ten minute slot during graduation to present her speech, and the speech suddenly means nothing and everything to her when she learns her school managed to book the Symbol of Peace as the keynote speaker. The Symbol of Peace far upstages her, and she doesn’t even care. She’s spellbound all over, and savors the ghost of the tingle in her fingertips from the brief second they pass each other. He doesn’t know this, but the moments spent sharing the stage mean the entire world to her.

She takes another vow now, to share a stage with him again in the future, as a colleague. She vows to make this moment the starting line for the beginning of the rest of her life.

When she shows up to Slice’N’Dice’s hero agency on her first day as a debut sidekick, she’s met with a bare white-walled room of peeling paint. There’s a single sputtering fan in the corner pointed directly, and only, at Slice’N’Dice’s desk. She feels the sweat trickling down her neck already, the swampy humid air, the cicadas chirping behind her, as she stands there holding her hero uniform in a box.

“I’m very excited to be working with you,” she says with a full bow. Slice’N’Dice looks up from his desk, and grunts, and goes back to puffing on the loose cigarette hanging from his lips. He’s slumped in his chair, uniform loose-fitting around rather skeletal arms and ballooned around his distended waist. He’s unbuckled his belt, and pulls deeply from his cigarette, and tunes the dial on the crackling police scanner on his desk.

“You know how to make a pot of coffee?” he asks her.

On the third day of her sidekick career, they go on patrol. Her mom has washed and pressed her uniform for exactly this occasion. She feels hope bubbling in her stomach where a rock-like weight had sat before. She wonders what it’ll feel like to have eyes shift to her as she walks, what excited kids will tug on their parents’ sleeves and point, what it will really feel like to be on this side of the uniform.

Slice’N’Dice doesn’t take her to the streets of Tokyo. They meander through empty alleys and hot, putrid industrial backways. He stops at an outdoor storage unit, and unloops the keys from his unbuckled belt, and opens the unit. Inside are bikes. Dozens of them. Dented and rusted into disrepair. He pulls out two and walks them on either side of him, motioning her to do the same. She does.

“What are the bikes for?”

Slice’N’Dice grunts.

Ten minutes more of walking, and they are standing at the mouth of a neighborhood. The air carries the pungent scent of gasoline. Windows appear as broken glass and particle boards, nailed into place. The peeling paint along the apartment facades reminds her of the peeling paint in the office.

Slice’N’Dice props a bike against a lamppost. And he pulls a small metal lens from his pocket and affixes it to the post just above the bike. On his phone, he fiddles an app open, and she sees two green lights blink on the metal lens.

Slice’N’Dice moves on. He motions her to follow.

“Why are we leaving the bike?” she asks.

“Gonna catch some thieves.”

“With the bike?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re leaving it here.”

Slice’N’Dice shrugs. “Yeah? Ain’t telling anyone to steal it. That’s their problem.”

“You want it to get stolen?”

“We gotta resolve some incidents if we wanna get paid.”

“Then, let’s resolve some incidents for real!” She thrusts a hand out, motioning, nearly tipping and just barely catching the bike at her left side. “Let’s patrol Tokyo and stop actual crime that’s happening.”

Slice’N’Dice barks a laugh. “We don’t have a zoning permit to patrol Tokyo, are you nuts? Maybe if the 2,000 Tokyo hero agencies all go belly-up, and the other 20,000 on the waiting list drop dead too, then maybe we could stake out Tokyo.”

She falters. “We shouldn’t be creating crime. We’re heroes, that’s just--”

“431.” Slice’N’Dice holds a hand up to her, and he draws his words out, like all the smoke from his cigarettes. “I got 431 applications for sidekicks. If you’re gonna leave, leave. I don’t really care. I’ll take any of the other ones. I don’t care.”

She freezes, sick with ice in her stomach.

“…And why’d you choose me?”

“Top of the pile.”

Slice’N’Dice shuffles along. She stands rooted in place. She’d been one of only three people from her graduating class to have a sidekick offer lined up right out of school.

It had been because she’d worked hard – harder than everyone else – to be a hero. Because she – more than anyone – had dreamed of this future.

Slice’N’Dice coughs wetly. He pauses to spit into the street, and keeps on shuffling.

…

There is a young man who’s admired the Symbol of Peace for his entire life.

He’s grown up half-raising himself, enraptured by the glow of the television with the Symbol of Peace’s shining smile. It is a smile that could move mountains, and his is a laugh that could shake oceans. The young man watched these interviews on repeat while his mother worked double-shifts through the night. Those interviews formed him, brought a flicker of hope into his small and hollow world, brought moments to his life where he did not mind the opportunistic roaches scuttling up the couch, nor the rattle of the leaking pipes overhead, nor the dense headiness of mold in the carpets. They showed him hope. They showed him a path forward.

The young man dreams every day of the life he’ll lead when he’s a hero as well. His mom won’t suffer anymore when he’s a hero. No kid will go to bed hungry when he’s a hero. He’ll smile like the Symbol of Peace smiles, and he’ll move the oceans and the mountains too.

The U.A. rejection doesn’t deter him. He knew it would be a rejection before he even received the envelope. Only 1 in 1,000 applicants get into U.A. anymore, and that number skews further out of his favor when considering the legacy admissions to U.A., and the recommended kids who’d been through expensive personal hero-training regimens, and the parents who could curry a bit more favor by offering to fund a new U.A. training ground.

The young man never stood a chance, and he knew it. He’s more motivated, if anything, by the rejection letter. He wants the chance to stand out as someone who can break the U.A.-to-Pro pipeline. He’ll start from lower, and he’ll rise above the rest, because it’s who he is at his core.

The rejection letters continue to roll in. His second, his third, his fourth choices – down to his fifteenth – all come in thin, thin envelopes, too thin to contain good news. This happens to a lot of people, he reads. The hero market is oversaturated, he knows. Caps on hero course enrollment are getting tighter, he understands. But to have every door shut on him almost shakes his hard-earned resolve.

His tenth-choice school informs him there is a General Studies slot open. They offer it to him, and he almost, almost takes it.

But the Symbol of Peace never gave up his dreams. So he won’t either.

The young man has a pamphlet on his desk for a for-profit hero school just 20 miles outside town. It boasts no enrollment cap, no admissions test, We believe everyone is capable of proving themselves through hard work! We do not let dreams die halfway! The only admission criteria is the price tag. It is steep, the kind of steep that his part-time jobs and meager savings could never cover.

There’s an old man running the backroom of the corner store who gives out loans. This man doesn’t ask for credit or credentials there. His loans are in cash, day-of, with few questions asked. The young man knows this because he works part-time at this corner store, and sees the steady stream of strung-out clients filtering in and out, wracking up debt, caught in a personal hell the young man vowed to never fall into himself. But these are the people he intends to help one day as a pro-hero. And sacrifice must become something he’s comfortable with if he ever hopes to live up to the Symbol of Peace.

During his next shift, the young man takes to the backroom, and lays out his terms while the old man breathes cigar smoke into his face, and he has the money in-hand before the end of the night.

He’ll likely have to pay it back two-fold – maybe three-fold -- in interest. The young man knows this, he is not dumb. But he also knows how lucrative the pro-hero business is for those at the top. The government payout for heroes is pittance, at best, but hero merch sales pay out in gold. The Symbol of Peace has been named among Japan’s top 100 wealthiest men for the last ten years.

He won’t tell his mother about the loan. He intends to pay the debt back before she ever finds out.

He enrolls. He pays the tuition fee. He’s given a class schedule, a uniform, a syllabus, a dormitory. He moves out, away from the roaches and the rats, and it is a dream. He sees the start of the rest of his life on the day that he and all his new classmates are welcomed to campus as up-and-coming heroes.

Two years pass when the for-profit hero school loses its accreditation.

He, and all other students, are informed in a single curt email from the administration. All staff are fired. All courses are canceled. All students have three days to vacate the dormitories. The school entity is dissolved, and there money is gone.

The world drops out from beneath his feet. He can’t take the provisional license exam without a hero institution behind him. He can’t apply to sidekick positions without a provisional license. He moves back home, and resumes his part-time job, and sends in ten applications a day to every hero course in the country that accepts transfer students. When all of them yield rejections, he focuses on applying to every internship listing he can find.

None of them want him. Not when the market is already oversaturated with applicants who have an actual hero school backing them.

Years pass around him in a blur. His every cent earned from the corner store job is immediately garnished to pay his debts that come due, and they hardly make a dent. The compounding interest builds as a rate that surpasses his pay. A lifetime of this work would never repay his debt.

The old man in the tattered wifebeater shirt calls him into the back room one day. The old man shows no malice in his sleepy eyes, but exudes a pressure the young man can only describe as blood-lust. He’s heard the man’s quirk is suffocation, and he prays that this is not the day he learns this first-hand.

“These numbers… are not trending in your favor,” the man says between long drags of the cigar in his hand.

“I know.”

“I’d like to know. How do you plan to pay me back for my generosity?”

“Hero work,” the young man answers, just as he did all those years back when he first negotiated for his loan. “I just need—”

“What hero agency is hiring these days?” the man asks. “So, so few, anymore. Hardly any, anymore.”

“I know.”

“I’m not optimistic for you, you know.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I just—” the young man jolts forward, pleading eyes boring into the old man. “I just need to catch one break! I just need one ‘yes’ to kick things off! I can handle everything after that. I just need your patience, until then, and then I’ll make good. I’ll make you whole.”

“I’m old,” the man says with another long drag of his cigar. “Old old old, and getting older. Money won’t be much good to me when I’m all too old and dead. We agreed on now… being when you paid me back what I gave you so kindly.”

“Please… I don’t have the money. But I’ll get it.”

“You will. You’ll earn it.” The man’s joints crack as he pushes to his feet, and hobbles into the cellar-dark back of the shop, and returns gripping a single weathered gun which he slides across to the young man. “Here. For your protection. You’re no good dead. Don’t try anything funny with it though, I’m faster than I look.”

The young man swallows. “…Why are you giving me a gun?”

“Because you’ll need it for the jobs I have for you.”

“Please… I have a job already. I work in this shop already.”

“I have many more jobs for you right now. You should be grateful. You’ve had so little luck with jobs. Take the gun.”

Hesitantly, reluctantly, the young man picks up the gun. It’s heavier than he expects. But just as cold as he imagined.

“I don’t want the gun…”

“You’ll need the gun.”

“I don’t…” he hesitates. “I don’t want to do your jobs. I don’t want to be a villain. I don’t��”

The old man wheezes out a laugh. Mirth cracks on his old face. “What even is a villain? Childish word.”

“The Symbol says—”

The young man’s breath freezes in his throat, and it is not of his own doing.

“Silence, now. You talk to much. Your mother talks too much too, about you. Shopping here, all the time, for you two. Chatter chatter chatter. I like to make people quiet. It’s good for my peace of mind.”

The young man exhales forcefully. His breath comes back in gasps. His world crushes in around him.

“Now, would you like to hear about the new jobs I have for you?” the old man asks.

The young man shuts his eyes tight, and he wills, prays, hopes for this to end. And nothing answers his prayers.

“…Yes, I’d like to hear about my new jobs,” the young villain answers.

…

There is a boy who has admired the Symbol of Peace his entire life.

He plays hero in the park with his two friends every day of elementary school, even through wind and rain and snow and scorching heat. Their games are squall rescues in the rain, and avalanche missions in the snow, and desert expeditions in the heat.

Those two friends are his only two friends. They go elsewhere for middle school, and he is left alone. And his every attempt to make new friends is squashed by the bullies that have found him to be such a deliciously easy target. He endures it, he accepts it, he channels all his hope and all his faith into the Symbol of Peace. The bullies’ words hurt less when he trawls through video playlists of interviews, and motivational speeches, and candid rescues. There is no hurt, and there is no danger, and there is no unfairness where the Symbol of Peace is involved. When the boy’s parents divorce, when his dog passes on, when his grandmother gets cancer, he watches the Symbol of Peace’s interviews on loop.

The boy stops bothering trying to make friends in middle school. The enormity of the task ahead of him is too much and too important for friends. He trains alone every day during recess instead, and after school, and into the night, and early in the morning. Every pull-up is another imaginary meter scaled in a mountain rescue. Every mile run with his weighted vest is a collapsed hiker carried out of the woods. Every deadlift is raising the roof from the victim of a hurricane. Every heat-exhausted quirk honing session is another life saved.

He’s sure to smile, every time, no matter what, because one day there will be real people he rescues who need to see that smile.

He is 12 when he buys a police scanner.

It’s not a real one. More like a repurposed ham radio, rigged up to the emergency response frequencies. He purchased the radio online from a man with the username radrigs89, and the purchase eats up most of the boy’s savings. He’s heartbroken when he finds the radio does not actually pick up signals.

But he doesn’t give up. Instead the boy pours all his free time into rigging it up properly himself. He needs this to work. Because he knows from the Symbol of Peace that a true hallmark of a top hero is having stories of bravery from their middle school days.

Three months after his purchase, he strikes gold.

The raspy speakers crackle out with police chatter. He sits enraptured in his room, idling away his Friday night listening for anything nearby. Anything he could get to on his bike. Any scene that would need his quirk. Most things that comes through are traffic infractions, or noise complaints, or incidents with heroes already at the scene. The boy decides to be patient. He’ll know in his gut when the right report comes through.

Just over a week later, at 10pm on a Saturday, there is a fire twelve blocks from his home.

He is on his bike from the moment the address is relayed over the radio.

The ride over is a blur. His fingers tingle. The building is an apartment complex. The police are at least fifteen minutes away by car. There are no heroes yet on the scene.

He takes the final left too hard and wipes out, bike skidding away horizontally beneath him. He bounces up to his feet and pays it little mind, because the air has spiked hot, because the red-orange light dances and reflects in his eyes, consuming the building, consuming his thoughts. It is like a heartbeat licking inside the windows, and it compels his body to move without his mind.

Residents are crowded in the street below, pajama-clad and chilled in the night air. And he spots her – a little girl, no older than five, gripping her mother’s nightgown and wailing. The little girl has practically gone limp, held up by her balled fists in her mother’s clothing, screaming “MY BUNNY! BUNNY! WE GOTTA GO GET BUNNY!! WE GOTTA SAVE BUNNY!!!”

“We’ll buy a brand new bunny after this, okay? I promise. Brand new bunny! We can get two bunnies who are friends, I promise. I promise.”

“NOIWANTBUNNY!!!!”

The boy races over, and he crouches to the girl’s level, and he smiles. “It’s okay now! I’m here! There’s no need to cry now. I can rescue your bunny. I have a quirk just right for this! Where’s your bunny?”

The little girl blinks through her tears. “My room.”

“What apartment?” the boy asks.

“No. Dear. No please, I promise we’ll get a new bunny!”

“2…. 2-J!” the girl answers.

“HEY WAIT!” the mother yells after him, but it is too late. The boy has turned heel and run. There’s fear in his heart, sure, but heroes fight through fear. There’s a voice in his head saying “turn back!” but he has to act without thinking if he wants to rise to the likes of the Symbol of Peace. The bunny. The bunny is a life worth protecting. The little girl’s smile is a smile worth protecting.

He bursts through the front door, and he curls his fingers to activate his quirk. A chill sweeps through the hallway, dragging the air from scalding to breathable. His internal temperature ticks up just a fraction.

The stairs, only one flight. He scales it, the white floral wallpaper glowing with am amber ambiance from the flames eating the scaffolding behind it. He rounds into the hallway where the heat claws into his throat once more. Another tensing of his fingers, another activation of his quirk, another gust of chilled air. He feels his brow grow hotter in recoil.

All doors have been flung open all along the hall, including the one marked with the 2-J plaque beside it. He wastes no time entering, and hesitates only a moment as the first bare sight of fire meets his eyes. The living room is consumed, the lemon couch scorched to half a skeletal frame, the television melted unrecognizable. Aerosolized plastics, wood, and fibers assault his throat, so hot he feels he is breathing in a solid mass. It reduces him to a fit of coughing, soot taking out his sight for the moment. His fist curls, a gust of cold air blasts through, and he is breathing again. Just a bit dizzier. His forehead burns independent of the flame.

Girl’s room. Little girl’s room.

It’s easy enough to find. Pink walls, a single twin bed with frills along the skirt, circular white rug plush and soft at the dead center of the room. It’s less hot in here, by a fraction. The fire hasn’t claimed it yet.

Cage. Bunny. Rabbit. Where?

He scans the length of the room in a second, and scans it again. He expects a cage at shelf-level, and when he sees none, he scans the floor for any sign of a pen. He steps over the threshold, growing more frantic.

“Bunny!” he calls out and feels foolish for wasting the breath.

Closet, maybe. He grabs the metal handle, and recoils when the heat bites him. He wads his hand in his shirt the second time around and yanks the door open. Clothes, hangers. He sweeps everything aside and stares at a floor of shoes. Sweat trickles down his neck in rivulets. Every article of clothing sticks to him. His mouth is drying.

He sweeps his hand out, tensed into a claw. Another swirl of cold air streams through the room. He feels it in his heart this time, a slight stutter, a hotness and redness along his cheeks. His internal temperature ticks up another fraction.

“Run,” the little voice in his head says. “You’ll over-exert your quirk. You know that’s dangerous. Run.”

But he can’t. Because heroes act without thinking.

There’s a creaking overhead. It starts low and slow, almost inaudible over the hum and crackle of the fire one room over. It crescendos to a groaning, and it steals the boy’s full attention right when it hits its breaking point.

The ceiling caves, just above the doorway. Lumber and drywall and embers pour down like sand. He dodges, just in time, throwing himself sprawling on the super-heated ground such that the collapsing rubble only claims his right ankle.

The floor is burning into him. He twists, staring at his foot, staring at the entrance to the room now blockaded with debris. The fire licks about the doorway, crawling with slow, opportunistic bursts.

His lungs hurt.

“…Freeze,” he wheezes out, fingers curling, another sweep of bitter cold air bursting through the room. The momentary relief is welcome, but the lingering swell of heat in his cheeks negates it. He sees the flames stutter, and hesitate, and crawl forward again.

“Freeze!” again. A blow of icy air. A buffeting of the flames. A scorch to his cheeks heating with the quirk recoil.

He yanks on his ankle, and the lumber pinning it shifts a fraction.

“Freeze!”

He looks forward, chin pressed to the carpet. He sees it now, one floppy ear peeking out beneath the bed skirt. The fraction of space between the skirt and the floor reveals a plush face in shadow, and he sees two beady glass eyes dancing with the reflection of flames.

He’s licked with a moment of nostalgia, for the days spent playing hero with his friends. Stuffed animals had played their rescue victims so many times before. The stuffed bunny is a welcome sight, almost, it fits right into the fantasy he’d spent so many years constructing.

The other pieces don’t fit. The air licks so, so much hotter than the pretend arson rescues. The smoke is so much more choking than the fantasies in his head. Even the heat training, with the heaviest vest weights, in the peak of summer, couldn’t compare.

The Symbol of Peace never seemed bothered, even in the worst of his rescues. The Symbol of Peace never failed. Somehow, the boy had never considered failure as a possibility. Heroes just needed the courage to act, and the rest followed.

“...Freeze.”

His fingers curl. The flames reel back like a scolded animal, but linger, curious, experimental, as if testing his resolve. His face is burning up. He can’t tell how high his fever has spiked, but it’s high enough to make him drowsy. His eyelids flicker, and flutter, and it would be so much easier to let them shut.

The flames catch him dozing off, as they crawl forward with courage.

Before his eyes shut, he remembers one important thing. He smiles at the bunny.

Its wide glass eyes reflect his smile back. And even when the boy’s eyes flutter shut, the bunny’s remain open, unblinking, unseeing, dancing in the flames.

…

The Symbol of Peace mounts the stage with slow, commanding steps. The crowd that’s gathered tips into the tens of thousands, and that is not even counting those redirected to the overflow area. The people right near the front of the stage have been camping in their spots for over a day.

The applause that meets him is uproarious. He raises a gloved hand to ask for quiet, and is met only with a crescendo of hollers. They settle, eventually, as he takes his position by the podium, as he sets one white-gloved hand to the stand, and raises the microphone to his mouth with the other. The audience hushes steadily, enraptured, eager for him to speak.

“I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out here today,” he says, and he says it with a voice that can shake oceans, and delivers it with a smile that can move mountains. “This day means a lot to me, more than I can put into words, to be so honored by all of you.” He taps the medal affixed to his chest. “To be receiving the highest honor I could have ever imagined receiving. The Lifetime Achievement in Heroics…”

Applause, stronger and more raucous than the first round, meet his ears. He lets it ring this time, while tears prick at the corner of his eyes.

“I would not be here without you! I would not be anywhere near this podium without the love and patience and inspiration from all the people who believed it me when I needed it the most. I would not be 15,000 rescues into my career, and I would not be the second person to ever receive this award, if I had been traveling this path alone.”

Hoots. Hollers. Screams of “WELOVEYOU!”

“And it’s actually that first recipient of the Lifetime Achievement award who I want to talk about today, with you all. Because this day is special to me for an entirely other reason. Today marks the anniversary of the day that man – that first recipient – All Might – told me the words that set me on the path to where I stand today.” The Symbol of Peace steps away from the podium, microphone still in hand, and moves to the very front of the stage. “ ‘You can be a hero, too.’ Those words. That single sentence. Changed my life forever. I would not be here. I would not be ‘Deku’. I would not be the Symbol of Peace without them.”

He pauses for another chorus of cheers, screams and applause and celebration. His smile spreads wide, his soft freckled cheeks dimpled and scrunched high, his messy hair falling over his forehead, and it is a look that has captured an entire nation’s heart.

“So I want to take this time I have in front of you all to return the favor All Might gave me all those years ago. This is for everyone who needs to hear these words! For everyone who needs someone who believes in them! For everyone looking to do right in the world. This goes out to you!” And he lifts his microphone up high. “YOU can be a hero too!”

The audience erupts unlike anything before. Their sounds consume the very air. Together, they drown out all other noise as Deku, the Symbol of Peace, clenches his fist high in the air.

Across the nation, children are watching the television broadcast. They are enraptured. They are bright-eyed. They are making plans for what they will say on stage once they stand beside him.

Once they are all heroes too.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #on todays installment of: a meta point about the bnha world that could have been a 200 word text post becomes a 5000 word fic instead #anyway i had a bad idea and this is it #Hero Syndrome #the following tags contain mild spoilers but im tagging them for blacklist purposes #please dont read the tags further if you wanna not read spoilers #character death #(non canon character)#fire #ask to tag

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Blackpink Reaction To Their S/O Surprising Them W/ Dyed Hair

A/N: Hello, my lovely readers! Thank you guys for being patient with me on the requests, I really appreciate it. This is my first time writing a reaction, so let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy. Happy reading, everyone!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Everything is under the cut :)

Jisoo

"Say hello to everyone," Jisoo requests through the phone, looking back up to the screen in front of her with that signature smirk playing on her lips. As fate would have it, she was in the middle of doing a live when you called. The fans love you -- especially since you're so funny and chaotic when you're around -- so you're happy to greet them.

"Hi, Blinks! I'll be there in a few minutes with a special surprise."

Jisoo lets out a shocked noise at this, considering you hadn't told her about your plans.

"Oye! Hurry home so we can see it." She says excitedly, lightly bouncing up and down on the bed. With a smile that's evident in your voice, you tell her goodbye.

---

In one swift motion, you scoop up a cheery Dalgom in your arms, laughing at how he licks your cheeks in greeting.

"I love you, too, buddy."

After setting your bag down on the couch, you make your way to Jisoo's room. Little do you know, she has a surprise of her own in store.

"BOO!" She shouts, keeping her phone steady to capture your reaction to the scare. You tense up and shout, nearly dropping Dalgom in the process, but you recover after a moment. Both of you break out into a fit of giggles, and you look over at the computer on the bedside table to find the fans blowing up the chat. Jisoo wipes the tears of laughter from her eyes, and looks at you again; only now does she notice your new hair.

At first, she's speechless -- only capable of looking at you with hearts in her eyes. Eventually, though, she finds her voice again. "Y/N! Wow, it looks gorgeous!" She smiles, running her hand through the newly dyed locks. Her accent made the compliment even more special, and you don't even try to stop the grin that tugs at your lips.

---

Now seated on the bed with Jisoo beside you and Dalgom in your lap, you flip your hair around exaggeratedly as you show it to the audience. The positive comments roll in, and you take turns reading some of them out loud. From her position against the headboard, she can see the different hues of your hair shine and shimmer brightly in the gentle lamplight; she can't help but admire you.

After half an hour or so, she decides to end the live. You pull Dalgom into your arms again and smoosh your cheek up against Jisoo's, making sure to crowd in enough to fit into frame. Something must have gotten into her, because she leans around to press a lingering kiss to the corner of your lips, right in front of the camera. You can only imagine how much harder the fans are going to ship you now.

With a final wave and goodbye to everyone, she ends it. She wraps one arm around your back as her other comes to rest on your thigh, reaching up every now and then to pet Dalgom's head.

"I'm so happy you like it." You say after a few minutes, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over the room. She lifts her head from its place on your shoulder to look at you. "Of course I do, Y/N. Did you doubt that I would?"

"Not exactly… I was just afraid it might not turn out pretty. You know?" She nods in response, but her heart breaks a little: you have no idea how amazing you are.

"I understand, but you don't ever need to worry about that. Everything about you is beautiful because it's a part of you. You make everything pretty." She gushes, tracing little patterns on your hip.

You attempt to dismiss her words, throwing a hand into the air while making a little "pshh" sound, but she doesn't stand for it. "I mean it, Y/N. I'm not just saying that. I'm glad to call you mine; you're so special." Her words affect you more than you thought they would, and soon tears are blurring your vision. Who knew dying your hair could lead to all this?

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, Jisoo, but I love you so much. You always know what to say." And it's true -- she does. She knows you get insecure sometimes, and she's always there to reassure you of her feelings when you need it most.

"And I love you." She affirms, allowing her head to rest on your shoulder again now that you're happy.

Feeling left out, Dalgom lets out a little bark; he wants attention too. In an instant, the room is filled with kissy noises and the sound of your high pitched voices as you both talk to him and shower him with love.

Jennie

"Jen, I'm home!" With a shrug of your shoulders, the warm material of your coat falls down your arms. As you hang it on the rack beside the door, a smile tugs at your lips; Jennie gave you that coat, and it's always done well in keeping you warm and comfortable when she can't be around to do so. You make a mental note to thank her properly.

With that, you amble into the kitchen.

"Yah, jagi! What took so long? I missed you." Jennie whines, her words slipping past the cute little pout that's surely adorning her face. She's preparing a snack at the counter, her back turned to you as she struggles to open the sauce jar.

"Here, let me help," you offer, approaching her.

As she hands you the container, she turns to look at you for the first time tonight. Her eyes widen as she does a double take at you. You don't notice, though -- your focus is elsewhere.

"Jisoo and I saw a new gaming store when we were out today and we decided to stop in. We didn't expect to be there for so long; we just got wrapped up." You tell her, answering her previous question as you finally manage to pop the lid open. Upon sliding the jar over to her and meeting her gaze, an instant blush begins to make its way to your cheeks. Her pupils are blown wide now, and her lips are pursed as she appreciates the sight of you. You never fail to send her heart wild.

"I'm convinced you can rock any color," she flirts, smiling widely at the reaction her words garner from you.

"Why don't you come a little closer and get a better look?" You ask, fighting the shyness that threatens to take over you. She quirks an eyebrow before sauntering over, swiftly moving to tangle her hands in your hair. "It suits you so well, babe." She compliments, toying with the soft strands that fall down into your face as you lean in closer to her. Her embrace is comforting, as always, and you sigh at the feeling of her fingers against your scalp. Before she can stop herself, Jennie leans forward and connects your lips in a sweet kiss. She tastes like fruit, and you can't get enough of the flavor. Working with a sneaking suspicion, you open your eyes and glance over at her work station. Now, with your fears confirmed, you abruptly pull away.

She groans at the loss of contact, but you're quick to speak up. "You made tanghulu without me?? Woooow, Jennie. I'm hurt." You tease, acting truly upset as you take a step away from her. She shakes her head, letting out a little chuckle; for a second, she worried you were upset about something serious.

"Shush, we can always make more."

You don't drop the act so easily, though, and the playful glint in her eye tells you that she's enjoying the banter.

"What else have you done without me today? If you watched that new drama without me then you're sleeping on the couch tonight." A guilty expression falls over her features, and she avoids your gaze.

"About that…" she starts, rubbing the back of her neck as a dry chuckle slips past her lips.

"JENNIE KIM!"

"I'm messing with you, babe. That would be treason." She pulls you into her arms again, raising a hand and giving you a sort of "scout's honor" gesture to prove that she isn't lying. After narrowing your eyes at her one last time to ensure she's being truthful, you give in and kiss her again.

"Fine. You'll just have to keep kissing me to make up for the tanghulu."

"Oh, really? I'll have to start making it without you more often, then." She laughs against your lips as you pinch her for that remark. Your mood brightens exponentially at the sound of her giggles, and you wrap your arms around her even tighter.

Rosé

“I'm home, my love!" You shout, slipping your shoes off and setting them beside the door. A content sigh leaves your lips as you undo the top few buttons of your shirt, finally able to relax and see Rosé. Her excited footsteps carry out across the house as she makes her way downstairs, Hank following right along. You crouch down to pick him up, smiling at the precious way his ears bounce around as he runs into your arms.

"Oww, my heart," Rosie exclaims with a grin, holding her hand against her chest in mock pain. Nothing can compare to seeing her two loves so happy and carefree. She pads her way over to you, and you kiss the top of Hank's head before setting him on the ground. Her arms wrap around your waist, and you pull her in for a warm embrace; the two of you stand like that for a minute, swaying back and forth. Eventually she pulls back to press a kiss to your lips -- something she's been dying to do all day -- and she takes your hat off in order to run her hands through your hair.

"I missed you, babe." The words come out quietly, accompanied by a frown. You peck her lips again until her pout turns into a soft little smile, and rest your forehead against hers.

"Me too. But now I have the next 3 days off, and I'm all yours." Her eyes look into yours lovingly, but quickly shift to look at your newly exposed hair.

A sound of surprise stutters past her lips -- you've truly taken her breath away. She has a special twinkle in her eye as she looks at you, completely in love. Her fingers skim across your collarbone and neck as they move to play with your hair.

"It's beautiful, just like you." You tut at her and bring your hands up to cover your face, taking refuge behind them. She's quick to pull them away, though, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and wrists before interlocking your fingers.

"I mean it, Y/N. You're always so stunning." There's no denying the effect her words have on you; even after being together for as long as you have, her compliments never fail to set your heart aflame.

"How'd I get so lucky, huh?" You ask her as you let your hands settle on her hips. She's clad in a crop top and jeans, and the soft skin of her abdomen against your fingertips is a wonderful contrast to the rough material of her pants.

It's her turn to blush now. "I love you to the mountains and back and to the far far hills--" your giggles interrupt her recital, and she just laughs along with you. "I love you, too, Rose. So much." She presses another kiss to your cheek before leading you up the stairs and calling out for Hank to follow.

Lisa

As you walk down the hallway of the dance studio, destination set on Lisa's rehearsal room, you can hear the strong beat of "Candy" by Doja Cat pulsing inside. A stray staff member passes by you, looking nearly entranced as you run a hand through your hair to readjust it and smile at her. She watches you walk away, incapable of taking her eyes off of you, and that simple act boosts your confidence tenfold. You had been a little nervous to see how people would react to your new look -- Lisa, in particular -- but all of the approval you've been receiving has eased your worries so far.

With one final, steadying breath, you release your fears and open the door.

Your girlfriend doesn't notice you come in at first, given that she's totally in her element, her body winding around as she performs the moves expertly. You lean against the doorframe now, taking in the beautiful sight. During one particular part of the song, she does a set of body rolls, putting the muscles of her abdomen on full display as she flexes them. The low lighting of the room sets the mood perfectly, creating just the right ambiance.

"Damn, baby. Am I crazy or are you somehow getting even better?" The words startle her ever so slightly, pulling her from the other world that she was just in. She glances at you from across the room, and a look of confusion crosses her face for a split second. After she registers that you're you and not some random staff member, her jaw drops to the floor.

Totally disregarding your previous question, she's quick to replace it with her own as she runs over to you. "Y/N! Oh my gosh, why didn't you tell me??" The words come out in a rush as she engulfs you in a tight embrace, and you snuggle into her warmth.

"I wanted to surprise you. I've been wanting to switch it up for a while, and somebody told me that this is your favorite color." You say, unwrapping one of your hands from her waist and bringing it up to toy with your hair. "Do you like it?" You ask, biting your lip as the nerves begin to creep back in momentarily. Lisa hasn't said anything yet -- she's just been studying your features with the hint of a smirk on her lips.

"No, I don't."

"Wha--"

"I love it, babe. You're so beautiful." She says as she rests her forehead against yours.

With a sigh, you nudge her playfully. "Hey, don't do that to me! I thought you didn't like it." You pout, avoiding her now incredulous gaze.

"Look at me." She commands, cupping your cheek gently as she lifts your head to face her. "Did you seriously think I wouldn't like it? You could be bald and I'd still be just as in love with you as ever. But that color looks absolutely gorgeous on you."

She always knows just what to say.

"I love you, dork." You grin, pressing a kiss against her soft lips.

"And I love you. Now, come dance with me." Her hands skim down your arms on their journey to your hands, and she interlocks your fingers. She walks backwards towards the middle of the room, doing a goofy little shimmy on the way. Her antics draw a giggle from you, and she reciprocates. Before long, the two of you are having a full on dance battle as another new song blasts through the speakers.

#blackpink #blackpink fluff #blackpink reactions #blackpink imagines #kim jisoo #jisoo turtle rabbit kim #jennie kim #park chaeyoung #lalisa manoban #lisa #blackpink scenarios #let-them-read-fics #blackpink x fem reader #blackpink x reader #jisoo x fem reader #jennie x fem reader #lisa x fem reader #rosé x fem reader

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bluearson · 4 years

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Double Trouble

Request: I see your requests are open and you write ✨ soft Dabi ✨ can we get a little smth for Dabi with an s/o who has a water quirk that sooths his burns to further soft dabi supremacy 🥺 (thank you for all the fantastic fluffiness you have blessed us with 💕) The day started off ordinary. The sound of music filled your ears as you patrolled around your self-claimed “turf”. Life was easy, a little dull but the life of a vigilante with no loyalties was not always boring. Then you saw him, hiding away in an alleyway. He was tall, beautiful even you might say. The scars that littered his body looked painful. You felt almost sorry for him, a quirk that his own body can’t handle. You wanted to help him.

Feeling confident you strode up to him, “Sir?” You spoke out to him. He was almost like a feral cat, he shifted his weight quickly onto his other foot and extended his left hand, blue flames appeared between his fingers. It was like a reflexive survival instinct. Your reflexes were faster than his though, you pulled the moisture out of the air and snuffed his flames out. He watched in disbelief as steam bloomed off his hand. “That’s an impressive quirk you got,” He croaked. “So, what are you? A pro hero?” There was an malicious edge laced into the words he spoke. “I wouldn’t want to rope myself in with such close-minded people.” You scoffed, “I’m better than that. I’m my own boss.” You crossed your arms over your chest as you eyed the flame-quirked stranger. He only grunted in response as he looked you over. You felt like he was scrutinizing you under his eye. “If our paths cross again.. I think I’d prefer having your help.” He was gone before you could even say goodbye. Even though he hadn’t made the best first impression, neither did you. You weren’t sure how to feel about the next time you met him. At the very least you hoped that you wouldn’t be on the wrong side of his flames a second time. You shuddered at the thought. You caught a glimpse of him walking down the street together with a girl much shorter than him, she rather cute. You wondered about what relationship they must have had. They seemed like good friends at the least. She was very animated and clung onto his arm as they walked together. Secretly you wished you could be her, clinging to his arm as you strolled through the city. That was another fantasy to write about in your journal. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been infatuated by someone but man.. you really wanted to be at his side. The universe seemed to have enough of punishing you when one day you heard a voice calling out to you, you looked over your shoulder as you took a long swig of water from your water bottle. You flashed the familiar figure a smile as it came fast approaching. “I missed you.” “I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long, sweetheart.” He teased. “I like what you have to offer. I think we could make a pretty good alliance.” The words sent your heart a fluttering. Alliance? He wanted to form an alliance with you? “I would like that..” You extended your hand to touch his forearm, looking up at him as though you were asking permission to touch him. Your fingertips grazed his skin softly. When he didn’t move away you allowed your hand to settle on his rough skin. “Does it ever hurt?” You asked as you examined where the stables met his skin. “Sometimes.” He answered quietly, as though he was sharing a secret with you. “Do you have somewhere we can discuss this privately? I hate being out in the open too long..” He rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes darted around. “Yeah I have a little hideout where I make deals.” You turned on your heels and made a beeline for the hideout before you could even see the look on his face. Once inside you fastened the series of locks that prevented squatters from breaking in when you weren’t around to protect your secret base. You told your new partner all about your quirk, nearly professing that you held a flame for him once or twice as you tried to explain how useful you could be to him. You had experience teaming up with criminals before. Together you were a force to be reckoned with, especially since you could stay hidden as you supported Dabi from the shadows. You began to notice he’d start doing little things for you. You even took note that his arm stopped sizzling as much after a fight, usually you tried your best to keep up with him but there was only so much you could do while trying to not seem like a shady person carrying around several gallons of water. Still you felt like your efforts were always appreciated, even if they weren’t up to the standards you wanted every time. You lived for the way he’d pat your head as steam rose off his arm. The way he’d smile at you even for a brief moment. “I love you.” You said to him one day as he smoked his morning cigarette. You were enamored by him, utterly and totally captivated by everything he did. “I’m glad we’re apart of each other’s lives.” You quickly added. The raven haired villain took a long drag before exhaling the smoke, you watched as some slipped through the staples in his face, it looked as though he was a dragon breathing fire. “I’m glad you’re around.” He tore his eyes away from yours and you felt a little deflated. You wondered if there was ever a chance he’d see you as something more than just his “sidekick”. You wanted to ask him if he was single or not, about that girl you saw him hanging out with all those months ago. It never seemed like the right time, nor the right place. You didn’t want to ruin a good thing. Things didn’t change between the two of you after your little outburst. You still couldn’t push your feelings aside for him, no matter how hard you tried. “Dabs, do you try to push me away because you don’t think I can be a good villain?” It had been on your mind for a while, the way he seemed to keep you at arms length even though you both shared a common goal. “You don’t need to protect me if that’s what you’re trying to do. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and holding my own.” Your eyes searched his for an answer, for a glimmer of emotion under the tough guy act he held in public. You knew him long enough to see right through him. Every mask he wore. Every layer he tried to mask his true feelings behind. You wanted to tear all those walls down for him, to hold him in your arms and play with his hair. To be vulnerable with each other and raise hell together. If he wanted to watch the world burn you’d gladly fan the flames of his ambitions and further his goals. You wanted to see him succeed in everything. For the world to know that there was nothing that could stop him with his partner in crime by his side. He just stared back into your (E/C) eyes, a sad look washed over his face. He couldn’t just say you didn’t understand, you knew about his ideologies. You supported him with every fiber in your body. He cupped the side of your face, rubbing his thumb against your smooth skin. For once he didn’t have a snarky comeback to bite back at you with. You two just stood there, staring into each others having a silent conversation. It felt as though you two were trying to telepathically communicate with emotion what words couldn’t possibly convey. It lacked the power to truly grasp the full breath of the things you wanted to tell each other. Dabi pressed his forehead against yours, “I don’t ever want you to act recklessly because you’re following behind me. I never want you to get yourself hurt trying to keep up with me.” He paused, and brushed a lock of hair out of your face. “I know my own limits, and I know when I’m pushing myself too far. You don’t need to worry about me like I’m some.. fragile kid. I’m not made out of porcelain. I’m made out of flesh and bone, muscles.. and I’m a lot more sturdy than I might look.” You laughed lightheartedly, trying to lighten the mood. “I appreciate the fact that you’re looking out for me Dabi.. but I can only do so much if you keep me at arms length. I want to be your equal.” “You always were.” “Then let me in. Open up to me. Talk to me for fucks sake.” “I think actions speak louder than words. Words get jumbled.. twisted.” He tore his eyes away from yours as he looked off into the distance. He seemed so far away and you let him have his moment to reflect. “You’re too valuable to me. You help the pain stop. I’ve gotten too used to it Y/N. You know you’re really cruel sometimes..” He toyed with a lock of your hair. “You’ve got me hooked on your special little treatment and now I can’t stand the thought of you no longer being apart of my life. You’ve made yourself essential to my personal comfort.” You pulled him into a hug, squeezing him gently as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. It took a moment before he wrapped his arms around you in kind, his body was warm. “How do you think I feel?” You chuckled as you shook your head, “I’ve always been fascinated by you Dabi, ever since the first day I met you. I’ve never been able to get you off my mind for even a single second to myself.” “Damn..” You felt a rough kiss being planted onto the of your head. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like you in my life?” He chuckled. “Don’t ever say I never loved you. You just weren’t looking close enough. Too caught up in your head to realize I’ve been saying it ever since I agreed to let you into my life.” You said nothing as you simply enjoyed his embrace. Drinking in his scent as you let his warmth envelop you whole. “Wherever you go, I’ll be close behind. Damn all the consequences. There’s no place in this world I’d rather be than with the man I cherish. I trust you with all of me, Dabi.” You planted a kiss on his cheek. “When you’re finally ready to entrust all of you, your baggage, scars, and whatever else you’re hiding away from. I’ll be there, to help ease your pain.” You took his hand and raised it to your lips, planting a firm kiss into his skin. Taglist: @some-kindofgnome @humanitiesstrongestchicken @hecatve @axerrri

#Lighting the Bonfire #Dabi #Dabi bnha #Dabi x Y/N #Dabi x Reader #Dabi fanfic #soft Dabi

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pinkpastels113 · 3 years

Text

Talk Numbers To Me

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,326

Pairing: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell

Summary: In which Chloe gets help from her mathematical genius.

End B/C. One-Shot. Fluff. Tumblr prompt.

Read on ao3 or ff.net or below.

Prompt from anon; hope you all like.

Chloe shuffles her papers, kicking her feet in frustration at the numbers swirling in her head. Her hand flies to her hair, the pencil tangling in its strands.

“You okay there, Chloe?”

She looks up, sees Stacie blink questioningly at her from the microwave, and gives a tentative smile. “Yeah, just...” she sighs. “Homework.”

Stacie nods, retrieving her dinner burritos and closing the microwave door. “Do you need help?”

Chloe bites her lip and looks back down at the sheets of homework staring back at her from the kitchen table, its once clean blank lines now covered in blurry grey smudges. She doesn’t want to be of any inconvenience. “Nah, I’ll be okay. Thank you though, Stacie.”

“Are you sure?” Stacie grabs for a napkin before making her way over, “Because if it’s science, I can definitely help you out.”

Chloe carefully detangles her pencil from her pounding head, laying it back down onto the wooden surface. It’s not science, but something in Stacie’s tone of voice has her intrigued. “Oh?”

Stacie pulls out a chair, sits. She sets her styrofoam plate down onto an area not littered by mountains of paperwork and reaches for the one directly in front of Chloe. “Yup. I double major in Chemistry and Biomedical engineering. Which pretty much covers all the sciences that you could possibly take in your second senior year.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows, impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know that you double major, Stace. That’s amazing.”

Her fellow Bella just shrugs, eyes quickly scanning the page. “Eh, it’s alright. I love science anyways so it’s no big deal.” She then pauses, presumably figuring out that the subject of Chloe’s dilemma is most definitely not the one of which she is an expert in. “Oh, this is math.”

Chloe groans just at the mention of the word, tilting her head back to the fluorescent light of the kitchen ceiling. “Yeah, math. The worst form of torture in the entire world.”

Stacie just chuckles, shaking her head, “Only to people who don’t understand it.” She then stands, clutching Chloe’s topic of frustration between a thumb and forefinger. “I would love to help you out, Chloe, but I think someone else may be better at explaining this for you. She is a math genius after all.”

Chloe gets out of her chair as well, brows furrowing curiously as she trails behind the tall brunette, only then realizing that they are making their way to the living room, where the sounds of the tv can be heard, signalling the presence of the rest of the Bellas. “Someone else? Who else could be better at math than a Biomedical engineer?”

“Someone who actually studies it.”

And before Chloe could even ponder over which Bella would possibly want to subject themselves to the torture that is freaking mathematics, they have reached the entrance of the living room, and Stacie has called out the answer.

“Hey, Beca!”

What?

Chloe gapes, completely taken aback as she watches the unrequited love of her life look up from the screen of her phone at the mention of her name. “Yeah?”

Stacie waves the paper in her hand even as she continues to stalk forward. “Chloe needs your help with some math. I said that I would, but I just figured that a double math and physics major such as yourself would be a much better and viable option.”

Understandably, Chloe is not the only one in the room to have no previous knowledge of this news, or the only one to be completely shocked by it. Fat Amy turns away from the tv to quirk a disbelieving brow. “Double major? Shawshank? Math and Physics ?”

Chloe couldn’t help but agree. She knows that it’s wrong and impolite to underestimate a person’s abilities on what he or she could or not do, especially when said abilities are in academics—after all, they are all still in college—but Beca ? One of her best friends in the whole wide world, not to mention her secret crush/obsession/favorite person/love of her life and possibly all the lives she could possibly have hereafter—if she believes in that kind of stuff, which she kind of does, especially if it pertains to a possibility of her getting together with said love in one of those lives in the far future—with whom she had been pining for—especially at the times where it had been particularly difficult and tiresome—seemingly since the beginning of time? Beca, who would always tend to blow off school until the very last minute; Beca, who would rather spend time fiddling with her music in her room all by herself with just her and her headphones rather than indulge in books or people or anything not involving of her mixing board unless someone—usually Chloe—had to physically drag her away from the screen of her computer to go hang out? Beca?

Shouldn’t she have known everything there is to know about Beca in all these years—albeit technically that only includes two, but sometimes she really just feels like they have known each other since they were kids—that they’ve been friends? Teammates? Roommates? Family?

Beca rolls her eyes, stretching her arms in front of her chest to pull her body into a proper sitting position on the side of the couch. She locks and tosses aside her phone. “Yeah, I couldn’t decide which one to pick so I just decided to go for both. You guys didn’t know?”

Chloe finally finds it within herself to blurt out something that does not include her incredulity of the small brunette being capable of taking the most ruthless and tedious majors that there could possibly be in all the majors one could take at Barden University, “No, Beca, we didn’t.”

Jessica, Ashley, Flo, and Cynthia Rose collectively shake their heads in agreement.

Lilly just blinks, and Fat Amy’s lone brow stays exactly where it is.

Stacie snorts, Chloe’s paper dangling casually between two perfectly manicured nails against her side as she crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto one foot, “Figures. I suppose you all didn’t know that I am a double major too, did you?”

Six of the Bellas’ attention spotlight on the slightly indignant brunette, gasps and shouts of surprise and amazement instantly tossed into the air, Stacie’s explanation of the functionality of Biomedical Engineering immediately a follow up, but Chloe barely notices, because she is too busy having a silent exchange with her co-captain still situated on the couch.

She widens her eyes. Is this true? Are you being serious?

Beca nods, smirks. Hell yeah I am.

Chloe tilts her head, pouts. Why didn’t you tell me?

Beca shrugs. Didn’t find a reason to. She then rubs the back of her neck, looking suddenly sheepish and uncomfortable. And it’s not like it’s a big deal.

Chloe frowns, shakes her hands about. It is a big deal to me ! She then gestures between the pair of them. We’re friends, Becs, we are supposed to tell each other these kinds of things!

Beca tips her chin to the front of her chest, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and then peers at her shyly through her lashes. Sorry, Chlo.

Chloe’s heart melts, her feet immediately carrying her forward, and she lowers herself onto the couch cushions next to Beca, taking extensive care to not sit on her phone. She offers a soft and forgiving smile, before pulling her best friend swiftly into a hug. Don’t be sorry, Beca. She presses a kiss to her cheek. It’s okay.

Beca’s body relaxes, and somehow Chloe understands that the small brunette is relieved of the fact that Chloe is not mad or judgemental or flighty about how she is a double major in both math and physics. Chloe wonders if that is the reason why Beca hadn’t told her—that she had been afraid of her reaction—and if that is the reason why she had put on a brave face in front of the Bellas.

Beca always pretends like everything is fine and ineffective to her well being when she feels extremely self-conscious. She likes to put on a hard shell and proclaim the attitude of a “badass” to balm over her real emotions, to put on a show of I don’t care and whatever to mask over the I do care and I do feel.

Chloe gets the feeling that if it hadn’t been for Stacie—who’d most likely just stumbled across the discovery by accident—none of them would have known, until possibly graduation, when someone questioningly points out the lettering of her certificate, the duality of her degree.

Beca is bashful, self-conscious, secretive , of her abilities and status as a mathematical genius.

Chloe puts her lips to Beca’s ear. “Help me with my homework, please.”

She feels her best friend shiver, pull away, her beautiful stormy blues shy and reluctant as they flit across Chloe’s face, search between her eyes, and Chloe just sits and stays and waits until she says yes.

“Okay.”

Chloe beams, her arms unconsciously going around to surround Beca’s back for another embrace before she pulls away, and she stands up and makes her way over to Stacie, a bounce in her step as she taps the tall brunette—who’s now making fun of herself for being the “hot one” of the group—on the shoulder to get her attention, smiling gratefully when she turns and notices and hands her paper over.

“Thanks, Stace,” she says, winking to signal the double sentiment of her gratitude for both the help and the revelation of the information, grinning widely as Stacie comprehends and nods.

Hazel greens flash quickly and meaningfully to the slight brunette in the room, “Anytime.”

Chloe lets her return to her conversation with the rest of the Bellas, spinning around to purse her lips questioningly to ask Beca where it is that she wants to go.

My room.

Chloe leads the way, making a brisk detour to the kitchen to gather up her things, and she speeds up the stairs and skips down the hall, letting herself into the double bedded bedroom Beca currently shares with Amy.

“So why’d you choose math?” She decides between the bed and the desk chair, going for the bed.

Beca takes the chair. “I dunno,” she shrugs, “Just wanted to, I guess.”

Chloe sets the papers down onto the bedding, and makes herself comfortable. “You must really enjoy it for it to be a half of your double major, Becs.”

Beca gives a noncommittal hum, crossing her legs and wiping her hands onto the dark denim.

“And what about Physics? Any reason why you wanted to study that as well?”

“Oh,” Beca glances to her mixing board, “That’s just for sound engineering. It really makes it easier to find and test out the best places for a good mashup, and it’s really just useful for the recording and production of music.”

Chloe makes a small noise of understanding, following her line of sight briefly before going for the subject catalysing the shocking news of that evening. She picks up the first sheet of her homework, smoothing it out before offering it enthusiastically forwards, “So, math genius, you wanna let me know how it’s done?”

Beca grins, one hand caught between her thighs modestly as the other one reaches for the paper, “Sure, Beale. Good to know that you’re actually in need of my help for something.”

Chloe pushes back her hair, blinking at her in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Beca hides her face behind the frustrating sheet of paper, “Nothing. Just that you always seem to know exactly what you’re doing. Everybody always seems to go to you for help, never the other way around.”

Chloe’s heart flutters in her chest, and she has to push it down before it can go all swoony over the likely unintentional romantic admission. Later. “I don’t always seem to know exactly what I’m doing, Beca. I usually just wing it, and hope for the best.” At Beca’s disbelieving but playful scoff, she leans forward to bend over the top half of her paper, revealing Beca’s face, “And I’m here now, aren’t I? Math has always been a subject that I can absolutely not deal with.”

Beca rolls the tip of her tongue over the fronts of her teeth, “Only cuz nobody but nerds like me actually gets it. Still doesn’t establish the fact that you’re no less amazing and brilliant at everything else you do.”

If Beca had been Chloe’s girlfriend—if she had been dreaming that she is—Chloe would have lunged forward and kissed her senseless.

Settling for biting her lower lip anxiously to withhold the urge, Chloe gestures to the paper in her hands. “Well? Do you know how to do this?”

Beca looks like she’s just been snapped out of a daze. “Oh yeah, totally.” She spins around in her chair to reach for her bag, unzipping it and pulling out a tiny whiteboard from the utmost layer, as well as an Expo marker. “It’s kinda easy, actually. I can explain it.”

Chloe giggles at the materials in her hands as Beca turns back around. “Aw, that’s so cute!”

Beca glares, laying the whiteboard on one side of her lap and the paper in the other. “Shut up. It’s just convenient.”

Chloe mimes zipping and locking her lips and throwing away the key, but the smile on her face is irreplaceable.

Beca nudges open the cap of the Expo, letting it drop softly onto the floor at her feet as she rereads the question. “So, it says that this Marco dude needs to figure out where his stupid ball is gonna land if he throws it over the top of a building, so we have to make a graph.”

Chloe laughs, already comfortable with the familiar way Beca seems to make any situation less intimidating, “Do you talk to yourself like that when you do your own math?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Chloe lays a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her amusement. “Carry on.”

Beca shakes her head, apparently having gotten very invested in her knowledge of math despite being self-conscious of it, “Jesus, Chlo. Anyways,” she brings the tip of the marker onto the whiteboard to draw two perpendicular lines, “Here’s the graph—” she draws a rectangle to represent the aforementioned building, along with a dot at the y-intercept, “—and here’s our dude.”

“Ooh, can we write down Marco,” Chloe interrupts, bouncing in her seat and pointing to the blank and boring dot.

Beca gives her a look, before sarcastically heeding her request. Five letters were squished against the side of the y-axis with an adorable arrow, “There. Happy?”

Chloe blows her a kiss, “Very.”

Beca sighs, dramatically, before continuing on, “So as I was saying, there’s Marco, and his ball is—” she scribbles down a number next to the side, “Thrown from this height, and we need to figure out—” she dashes a parabolic line towards the situational ground, “Where this —” she makes another dot, labelling it “splat”—much to Chloe’s delight— on the x-axis, “Is.”

Chloe nods vigorously, chin in her hands as she shifts closer to the edge of the bed, her butt just barely situated on the mattress now as she leans closer for a better look, “Yeah, totes.”

Beca doesn’t seem to notice her new proximity, on a roll now that she has gotten started, “And they have given you the formula so now, considering the fact that gravity is a thing and negative distances are not—” she copies down the formula and writes down what the variables represent for her right under, “You just have to plug all this shit in to get the answer.”

“Ohh,” Chloe says, getting it, but it falls on deaf ears as Beca seems to automatically plug in the figures for her, crossing out variables and scribbling down altercations as she goes along, and Chloe’s jaw drops, as seconds later, she has come to a conclusion.

Beca scribbles down “20 feet” and circles it victoriously, a small but satisfactory “Aha” escaping her lips as she holds the whiteboard up to the light. “There, I got it.”

A sudden wave of heat pools low in her belly, and Chloe gasps as she tries to make sense of the unexpected spike of arousal at the sight of the wide and unrestrained and confident grin painting across Beca’s lips, at the sight of the happiness and satisfaction sparkling within stormy blues, and at the sight of the pink and musically talented tongue clenched between Beca’s teeth, as if used as an anchor to her excitement of getting another math problem right.

Holy heck, Beca Mitchell is hot when she does math.

Chloe must have made a distracting sound, because Beca suddenly jolts, as if just then realizing that she is not alone, pink flushing into her cheeks as she lowers the whiteboard, her uncontainable grin fading into a sheepish smile, and she meekly hands the answer over.

“Sorry,” she says, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair, eyes downcast to her feet as she watches them scuffle nervously against the floor, “I just got so excited. I don’t know what came over me, Chlo, I—” she visibly swallows, “I hadn’t meant to just finish your problem for you.”

Screw it. It doesn’t freaking matter that Beca is not her girlfriend.

Chloe pushes the whiteboard aside and grasps the arms of Beca’s chair, yanking it and the person in it towards her waiting mouth, and she kisses her best friend/secret crush/obsession/favorite person/love of her life/mathematical genius square on the lips with as much fervor—if not more—as the moment previous in which she had desired to dole out when Beca had inadvertently complimented her as an amazing and capable and kind individual in and of itself, and she groans, her feet spreading to accommodate the chair between her legs and her brain kicking into overdrive to accommodate the gasp fluttering into her mouth.

Beca freezes, her eyes still presumably wide open as Chloe nips against her lips, and Chloe is just about to pull away and chart the situation up to another uncontrollable heat of the moment when she feels the small brunette reciprocate, arms wrapping around her neck and lips pressing closer, and Chloe slides her hands down from the arms of the chair to tuck between the cushion of the seat and Beca’s thighs, lifting her up and into the air before prompting dumping her in her lap, and she giggles as Beca huffs at the ease of which she has completed the action.

“Show off,” Beca grumbles, her minty breath a mournful absence as she pulls her mouth away to kiss the angle of Chloe’s jaw, “This is exactly what I had meant.”

Chloe tilts her head to allow Beca more access, “Coming from the person who had just figured out the answer to my mathematical problem in just a number of seconds, I think you are being irrational, Beca.”

Beca laughs, her nose nuzzling into the side of her neck affectionately at the pun, and Chloe’s heart pounds, her fingers immediately going to scramble her papers off the bed and her body further onto it. “That literally calculates up to zero creativity, Chlo.”

“Whatever,” she says, adjusting herself amongst the blue sheets and rectangular pillows, “I’m not a mathematical nerd, unlike someone I know.”

“Mm,” Beca reconnects their lips, her fingers playing the ends of Chloe’s hair, “Speaking of, are we gonna finish your homework?”

“Later,” Chloe tugs at their clothes, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of Beca’s wide and unrestrained smile, “We can do it later. Right now I just want my hot and secretive mathematical genius to talk numbers to me.”

---

I rushed through this in the span of four hours (not nearly long enough for me to make grammatical and detailing errors) so I hope you all enjoyed it despite my laziness :P

Also, if you’re the anon who gave me this prompt, I hope I did you justice, and that I hope you liked it despite any intentions that you had initially had at the suggestion of this prompt (I know I did, but oh well, what’s done is done, and I’m honestly just happy that I am finished lol).

Let me know what you all think! :))

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe oneshot #bechloe fluff #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfiction #beca x chloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #mine #tumblr prompt #anon prompt #hope you all like #sorry for lack of grammatical edits #or details #I was rushing

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lunatens · 3 years

Text

just wanna be with you

requested by anon <3 tysm lovely!! sorry this is suuuuper cheesy lol, i hope u like it!! also sorry if there are mistakes, i didn’t really edit it much >_<

prompt: “out of everyone on earth, why did my soulmate have to be you?”

*part of my 2 years with luna event!

word count: 1.9k

genre: fluff, high school au, soulmate au, maybe a little bit of angst? (mc has some ✨trust issues✨)

pairing: han jisung x gn reader

“y/n!!!!! happy birthday!!” a loud voice resonates through the cafeteria. you groan, wishing you could vanish from the face of the earth as all eyes turn to either you or the source of the yelling--a boy who you would really, really rather not be seeing right now. you tug on your sleeve to make sure your forearm is covered before you feel someone slide into the seat beside you, and you don’t even bother turning your head to see who it is. han jisung, your school’s resident funny popular boy who gets along with any and everyone.

everyone except you, that is. his class clown personality only irritates you; you’re sure it’s all just an act to get people to like him or something. plus, he must be the most annoying person on the entire planet. every time you just want to sit by yourself and read or scroll through social media, there’s jisung to interrupt you. in fact, even when you’re with your friends he finds a reason to approach you and try and draw your attention towards him. your friends say you’re just in denial of your real feelings towards him, and you find yourself mentally puking at the thought. okay, you think he’s maybe kinda cute (not that you’d ever admit that to anyone) but that’s just more of a reason to despise him, right??

it’s no secret to anyone that jisung has a huge crush on you; for over a year now he’s tried everything in the book to get you to go out with him. nevertheless, his advances are always shot down. minho’s tried to get you to at least give him a chance, but he’s long given up his efforts. see, no matter what anyone says, you know deep down inside that jisung’s just trying to embarrass you. the second you agree to a date, he’ll laugh in your face, or even worse--he’ll stand you up and the whole school will laugh at how pathetic you are for thinking someone like him would actually like someone like you.

sure, felix said that’s all crazy, and hyunjin called you delusional and overdramatic for thinking that, but what do they know! they aren’t the ones who have to deal with jisung’s endless pestering and teasing (hyunjin says it’s just flirting, but you aren’t so sure about that).

you just wanted to eat lunch alone in peace tucked away in the corner of the cafeteria, is that too much to ask? most of your friends are away on a class field trip today; normally you eat with jeongin when this happens since neither of you are in the same class as your friends but unfortunately, he’s at home sick today so you’re stuck eating alone. not that you mind all that much; it’s a good opportunity to catch up on schoolwork while you eat, and it can be refreshing to have a small break from the chaos of your friend group.

but today of all days, you really don’t want to see jisung. today’s your seventeenth birthday, which means at midnight last night, you experienced the wonderful and exciting moment when your soulmate’s name appeared inked onto your forearm. needless to say, shocked and disappointed hardly begin to describe how you felt when the name “han jisung” appeared on your skin. you honestly couldn’t believe it at first; maybe felix figured out some elaborate prank, but the more you rubbed at the black letters in an effort to make them disappear the more you realized han jisung really is your soulmate.

hearing jisung’s voice made you feel queasy with...nerves? dread? yeah, let’s go with dread, definitely not any other feelings. your palms feel clammy and heat rises to your cheeks when he slides in beside you, and you do your best to act natural when he comfortably slings an arm around your shoulders.

“so y/n, i know it’s your seventeenth birthday today…” jisung begins, voice oozing with that confidence you’ve come to hate. you finally turn your head to see him grinning at you expectantly, although his smile isn’t quite as wide as you thought it’d be.

“yep, it is indeed. now please go away,” you reply. you’re not going to give him what he’s looking for; for now you’ll just keep stalling until you can think of what to say--you know jisung won’t leave until he has an answer about your soulmate. you don’t want to lie to him, but you don’t think you’re quite ready for him to find out the truth just yet.

“...soooo you’re gonna show me my name on your wrist, right?” he asks, and..are you hearing right? is there a slight waver in his confidence? you try to read his facial expression for any falters in his normally strong front, but now you’re doubting yourself. you’re just hearing things, or maybe he’s just nervous you’ll finally find out he was pranking you all along.

“what makes you so sure it’s your name on my wrist?” you respond, quirking your eyebrows at him.

“just a feeling. i know you and i are meant to be, y/n,” he comments with a wink, and your eyes flick down to his exposed wrist to double-check he doesn’t know anything. you’re pretty sure he hasn’t had his birthday yet, and your thoughts are confirmed when you spy his bare skin, devoid of ink.

“well, maybe you’re wrong,” you mutter, turning back to your schoolwork. you don’t know how long you can keep this up for, especially not when jisung’s so close to you.

“then you gotta show me who it is at least, y/n. i’d rather you break my heart now than make me wait til my birthday,” he jokes, although now you’re sure there’s a more serious undertone to his words.

“no.” you reply. you’re starting to get annoyed with jisung’s persistence, why can’t he just leave you alone and wait for you to tell him when you’re ready?

“awe come on y/n, please?” he begs, leaning his head down onto the table so you can’t avoid his puppy dog stare.

“i said no, jisung, now i’d really appreciate it if you left me alone.”

“i promise i will if you just-” jisung reaches to gently tug at your sleeve, and you snap.

“ugh, out of everyone on earth, why did my soulmate have to be you?” you mumble as you pull your arm away from his grip. you freeze as the realization hits you--you just told jisung the very thing you were trying so hard to keep from him. jisung looks equally as shocked as your eyes dart to his for a split second before you hastily grab your things and walk away from the table, leaving a speechless jisung behind you.

you walk out into the hallway where a few students stand or sit, hanging out comfortably as they wait for class to start again. there’s a spot near the music hall you know you can probably hide from jisung for the rest of lunch, and then you’ll just try your best to avoid him at least for the rest of the day. that might be hard, seeing as he sits right behind you in your english class, but maybe you can just skip-

“y/n!! there you are, wow you walk fast,” jisung says as he catches up to you. there aren’t too many students in this section of the hallway, which you’re grateful for--you can feel your eyes starting to well up with tears as you anticipate the embarrassment you’re about to experience.

“jisung, i’m really not in the mood,” you mutter, your voice cracking a little as you avoid eye contact.

“why’d you run away? hey, are you okay?” he asks. his voice is soft and sincere, which surprises you--you didn’t think he was capable of such emotions.

“no, jisung, i’m not okay. you’re my soulmate which really sucks because i know you don’t even like me like that and you’re just trying to mess with my feelings and-”

“woah woah, i’m sorry, what???? why would you think i don’t like you?” jisung asks. he stops walking, prompting you to stop as well, now a couple of steps in front of him.

“i-i don’t know, you’re just always so goofy and joking around, i just assumed you were playing a prank on me or something,” you explain. you stare at your shoes, too afraid to look at jisung right now. he steps forward, tentatively lifting a hand to your chin and raising your head so you’ll look at him.

“y/n, i’m telling you now, i really, really like you. like, probably too much. why do you think i haven’t dated anyone else this whole time?”

“i-”

“i’m sorry for coming off that way; to be honest, i couldn’t really handle the idea that you didn’t like me back, or that your soulmate might be someone else, so i just tried to play it off. honestly, when i came to talk to you today, i really wasn’t expecting to actually be your soulmate. i thought you’d say some other name, and i’d laugh it off and pretend i wasn’t heartbroken, so when you said i’m your soulmate, i didn’t even know how to react,” jisung explains.

“yeah, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you so quiet,” you joke, a tsunami of relief washing over you. you smile gently, your nerves and embarrassment washed away only to be replaced with a new, unfamiliar emotion. well, you shouldn’t say unfamiliar--you’ve felt twinges of it before, like when jisung lent you a calculator for a test or helped you up when you tripped in the hallway, but you always shoved those feelings down, not wanting them to grow into anything dangerous. but now, you suppose, you can let them flourish as you come to terms with the fact jisung genuinely does have feelings for you. it’s sort of weird seeing him flustered and embarrassed, but you think it’s cute.

the bell rings suddenly, signifying the end of lunch; just minutes before, lunch couldn’t be over soon enough, but now you find yourself wishing it could go on longer so you could talk to jisung more. how are you supposed to focus on class after all of this? your thoughts are interrupted as you feel jisung’s arm slip through yours as he gently guides you to start walking to class.

“so do your friends know yet?” jisung asks as you weave through the sea of students. the two of you get more than a few stares on your way to class; you are linking arms with the han jisung, of course, and you’re not trying to shove him away for once.

“only jeongin, and i made him swear not to tell the others. i didn’t wanna deal with all of them just yet,” you admit. “ugh, they’re never gonna let me live this down,” you groan, leaning your head onto jisung’s shoulder, and he thinks he might explode at how cute you are.

“but it’ll be worth it, because you have me!” jisung says. “we can handle a little teasing, right?”

“yeah...you’re right,” you reply with a soft smile. it’s starting to sink in that wow, you’ve actually found your soulmate, the person you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with, and your stomach bubbles with excitement as you finally feel at peace with jisung by your side.

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glassworkspiderlilies · 3 years

Text

delinquency

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 6 | Promise | AO3 Summary: “Just promise me you will be careful,” he says, and Lumine smiles, squeezing his hands. Notes: *spins wheel* today we get a school AU, vaguely yandere albedo, and genki delinquent lumine. sure, why not. i have no control over anything. <3

“Lumine.”

She freezes in position, her arm half-wrapped, then turns around slowly, a sheepish smile on her face.

“Hi, ‘Bedo,” she says, hiding her arm behind her back in vain, but his expression doesn’t soften at the use of the nickname. “Is your class over already?”

“Yes.” His eyes flick over to the roll of bandages still in sight, then sets his books down and takes a seat across from her. “And you skipped again, I see.”

Albedo holds out his hand, and Lumine sighs before putting out her injured arm. He finishes the wrapping job for her, better than she could have done alone, and the tension eases out of her shoulders when she realizes he isn’t mad—at least not at her.

“The Fatui,” she explains, his silence questioning even if he hadn’t asked verbally. “Aether and Xiao got suspended for practically destroying the east wing, so…it’s just me. Well, and a few others, but they’ve got exams coming up.”

“You’re a target now,” he says, staring into her eyes. He has not released her hand yet, and she doesn’t pull back. “It’ll only get worse. Fights have always been part of this academy, but the one shouldering so many of them does not have to be you.”

She stares back, then gives him a sad sort of smile before she leans her forehead against his.

“It doesn’t, I guess,” she agrees, “But it is. Aether and I are the outsiders, and we have a bit of a reputation. You know what they call us, right? The Travelers. It’s probably the nicest moniker we’ve ever gotten, for being expelled out of so many schools. We’re just…a little too strange, and a little too good at fighting.”

Albedo frowns.

“You are hardly the strangest thing in Teyvat.”

“But if I weren’t, how could I have caught your eye?”

“…I like you more than just your being strange, you know.”

“You are sweet, Albedo.”

“Lumine.”

She laughs.

“I’m okay, really. Once Aether comes back, it’ll be easier. It’s a lot harder to get expelled here since they encourage so much…diverse development, and we have the Student Council backing us. And our patrons. Some of the fights aren’t so bad, really, I just…I’m not used to doing so much of it without Aether.”

Albedo hums.

“You could ask for my help.”

“No way. You’re in the crux of your thesis. I need to fight so you can research in peace.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’ve been extra reckless lately?”

Her eyes widen as she realizes her misstep. He looks smug at catching her so easily and neatly, and she huffs, blowing her bangs out of her face.

“I said I’m just not used to fighting without Aether.”

He cups her cheek, brushing a thumb over the bruise that is beginning to darken there.

“You don’t have to be the savior of Teyvat,” he says wryly, “We learn to work with…excessive distractions here, and my focus will not be broken so easily. You needn’t injure yourself on my account.”

“As much as I like you, it’s not only for you,” she says, just a little teasingly. But the humor fades as she frowns. “There’s…something else that’s going on behind the scenes. Aether and I have been asked to look into it.”

Albedo raises a brow, questioning, and Lumine sighs before she leans in and drops her voice to a whisper.

“The Archons, of the old Hidden Council—Teyvat’s patrons. There seems to be some kind of rift. You know Venti and Zhongli, the spokesmen for Barbatos and Rex Lapis? They’ve been targeted more than once. I don’t know who the others are, but…if it gets really bad, then it could affect the whole school.”

Albedo leans back, thinking.

“This is a lot for transfer students to get involved in.”

“But it’s precisely because we have no history with this place at all that we’re the best options.”

Albedo frowns again, but relents with another sigh. He is concerned, yes, but to hound her for situation that she does not entirely have control over would bring her undue stress, and she is under enough already, in her own way. He has to trust her, just as she does him.

“Just promise me you will be careful,” he says, and Lumine smiles, squeezing his hands.

“I promise. And I promise I will come to you for help if I really need it,” she tells him, and earns a smile in return.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Oh! One more thing.”

Lumine reaches into her bag, then pulls out an odd pointy blue object, putting it into Albedo’s hands. He looks closely at it, turning it over and analyzing its characteristics by habit.

“What’s this?”

“A tusk from an ancient whale, or something? You said that your project would be better supported if you had something like that to work with, right?”

He blinks at her.

“How…did you get this?”

Lumine twiddles her fingers.

“I…may have an arrangement with the Eleventh Harbinger…he has all these connections and if he wants to fight me every week, I should get something useful out of it when I win, right?”

She looks pleadingly at him as he stares at her in slight disbelief. He feels a mix of emotions—concern, again, that she made a bargain with a Harbinger, but also warmth, that she should remember such a passing mention during one of his long-winded musings.

In the end he laughs, deciding to simply marvel at her capabilities. She always manages to surprise him, in one way or another.

“Thank you,” he says, and is pleased when she beams at him.

A commotion outside draws their attention, and Albedo gathers up his books and the tusk into his bag while Lumine shrugs herself back into her leather jacket and swings her spiked baseball bat up onto her shoulder. She frowns when they peek outside, and the crowd that has gathered parts for her as she walks forward.

“Tartaglia,” she coos, though her eyes glint dangerously and her lips turn down, “I would have thought you’d still be recovering.”

“Oh, I am,” the boy in question says cheerfully, “You broke a rib, but I have high pain tolerance. Anyway, it turns out I got a double shipment by accident, so I thought I’d deliver it myself and catch sight of the genius prince you’re so intent on spoiling.”

The Harbinger’s eyes are searching as they light upon Albedo; he holds out the additional tusk like a peace offering, and Albedo accepts it gingerly while Lumine watches, poised to strike if she needs to.

“How apt,” Tartaglia says, after a moment. “But there’s more to you that meets the eye, isn’t there?”

Albedo shrugs, scrutinizing the second tusk to see if it differs at all from the first. Yes, there is a lighter luster to its center, and a slight nick on the left part of the calyx—

“A number of people call me a genius, but I don’t think I’m any such thing,” he replies evenly, but the other boy looks no less deterred.

“Oh, I think it’s more than that,” he says. Albedo looks up and raises a brow; Tartaglia holds up his hands with a chuckle when he feels the nails of Lumine’s bat poke into his throat. “Alright, alright. I’ve done what I came for, and neither of us are in the right condition for another confrontation.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lumine snorts, maintaining her position. “I may prefer you to the other Harbingers, but don’t push your luck.”

“Now that’s flattering,” Tartaglia purrs, as he backs up a few steps.

Lumine interposes herself in front of Albedo, planting her bat in the ground and standing defensively, glowering. Tartaglia chuckles and takes his leave—but turns back to throw one last look over his shoulder, one last quip prepared.

However—Lumine is momentarily distracted by Albedo peeling open a bandaid to stick to her cheek, turning her head towards him.

“Don’t move,” he says gently, keeping her head still with one hand. “Your hair was covering this before.”

She obeys, glaring at Tartaglia out of her corner of her eye when she notices him hanging back.

But the prince too is looking at the Harbinger, his gaze pointed and warning, eyes shadowed. His fingers are on Lumine’s cheek, where she had been scratched during their last battle.

“…Careful,” Albedo says quietly, his gaze still direct and unwavering, and Tartaglia’s lips quirk up at the mildly delivered threat. “If this gets to be too much, I might have to look into destroying a campus.”

“You’d definitely get expelled for that,” Lumine huffs, and Albedo chuckles, glancing back at her.

“That would be a problem, wouldn’t it? I suppose you’ll have to stop me if it comes to that.”

“It won’t,” Lumine says, raising a brow and crossing her arms. She hesitates before adding grudgingly, “…The Eleventh’s not that bad.”

“The other Fatui can be though…but we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.” Albedo smiles, inclining his head towards Tartaglia. “My gratitude for your part in getting these rare research materials. I’d appreciate it if you continued to…play nice.”

Tartaglia grins as his skin prickles, and his eyes gleam with interest. But now isn’t the right time to test the prince’s mettle.

“It was nice meeting you,” The Harbinger says, his gaze lingering before he turns away, and Albedo waves while Lumine simply watches him go.

“You’re right. He really isn’t so bad,” Albedo says amiably, once the other boy has truly gone. “Even so…he’s liable to become troublesome.”

She gives him an amused smile.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she says, bumping him with her shoulder, “But if I come across something I can’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

Albedo smiles back, then catches her hand to press his lips against its back.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says.

They continue down the hall, the other students either staring in awe or darting out of the way.

The two carry on, unconcerned, as those likened to gods do.

#albelumiweek2021 #albelumi #genshin albedo #genshin lumine #genshin impact #fanfiction #the dictionary def of delinquency says minor crime #which albedo is also committing but no one knows or believes it #i don't think i've written genki lumine before #who are these kids?

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foryoumyheroes · 4 years

Text

Celebrity C-C-Crush

[Bakugou + Todoroki + Amajiki]’s crush has their own crush on another Pro-Hero.

A/N:

I know that this is obvious, but I thought that I should reinstate that the “reader” is depicted as being in high school and all of their crushes are over eighteen. While they are nice to the reader, they are in no way reciprocating, pursuing, or even entertaining the idea of being with a minor. It is purely one-sided. Happy reading!

Warnings: slight OPM crossover.

Bakugou Katsuki:

Bakugou probably spends so much time to get you to notice him. I headcanon that when he’s attracted to someone, he just has the urge to show off 100% more to silently tell his crush that he’s capable.

Whether it be by teasing you more than others, shouting at you to fight him, or getting your attention by being such a tsundere he obviously puts in a lot of time and effort to get you to look at him, so when others are able to get you to notice them easily, he becomes pretty petty.

That’s why when he sees you across the street over the weekend his eyes immediately follow your figure and a soft smile appears on his face despite the fact that he’s surrounded by the “dumbass” Bakusquad. When he sees who you’re with however, that smile immediately drops into a scowl.

You are the complete fangirl/fanboy image. You’re stuttering and blushing as you shyly go, “H-Hi, Mumen...” You’re hanging off every word he says and you even hand Mumen a homemade lunch (Bakugou notices that it’s a reusable bento so you have to see him again). Bakugou nearly rages.

What’s worse is that Mumen easily accepts your kind words and the lunch you made for him. And he’s nice to you??? Mumen’s able to hold a conversation with you without one of you getting annoyed??

“Heya, [Name],” Mumen says with a small smile, and Bakugou fumes. Why are is this second-rate Hero so familiar with you? “I saw you during the U.A. Sports Festival! Congratulations on getting Top Ten. I was rooting for you! I know you’ll get them next time.”

Inner Bakugou is just screaming. Why the FUCK are you so uwu baby eyes 👉👈 right now?? What was there to blush for?? You’ve never blushed for Katsuki, and every time he steals a morsel from your lunch you always get annoyed with him, but you’re here giving out lunches!! The double standard!! he thinks. The audacity of this bitch!!

Obviously the Bakusquad sees all of this unfold before their eyes, and they all glance at each other knowingly when Bakugou rants about “What’s so great about Mumen Rider?” and that he can beat the Pro-Hero “to the fucking ground.”

“Maybe he has something called a nice personality,” Kaminari jokes and Sero snorts in response.

RIP them ig.

Knowing that you have this celebrity crush, Bakugou would immediately go to you the next day and start talking about how weak Mumen is, how shitty of a Hero he is, how he’s ten years older than you guys, etc. etc.

Of course you don’t hear any of it. You insist that Mumen is a well-liked Hero in the community, and most importantly he’s nice.

Bakugou nearly gags. Nice?? NïCë?? That’s all it takes to get to you? He spent all this time trying to get your attention and the secret was kindness this entire time?? Well, fine then.

Tries to win you over by sheer Pavlovian response.

You think Mumen’s glasses are cute? BAM. The next day he’s wearing his dad’s spare glasses even though they have different prescriptions.

Mumen once saved you and got you [favorite snack] while you waited for your guardians to come? Every time he sees you he gives you [favorite snack]. Just outright slams it down on your desk without a word.

He’s going to beat you at your own game. You think you can make Mumen these cute bentos? No bitch, he’s going to be making you BETTER bentos.

He’ll even ride a bike to school every day if that’s what it takes.

It’s clear that what you have for Mumen is admiration, and when Bakugou matures and changes he doesn’t mind you stanning another Pro-Hero. Once you guys are older and are in an established relationship he even willingly buys you Mumen merch and supports your obsessions, even if it is grudgingly.

He tells himself that it could be worse. You could be like Deku and All Might.

Todoroki Shouto:

To Todoroki, your appeal comes from your strength and your composure, He acknowledges how strong you are and doesn’t see it as a challenge to him, so his admiration and affection for you is through the roof.

So when you guys are walking down the street together and Genos, AKA Demonic Cyborg, crashes down in front of you due to a villain attack on the city, he expects you to stand your ground.

Of course his first instinct is to hold out his arm to protect/guard you, but instead he finds that he’s just swatting empty air and when he looks over at your figure, question marks just fill the space near his head.

You’re strangely huddled behind Genos with a large blush on your face and you’ve left Todoroki’s side completely. You’re clutching on the older male’s bicep with a strange nervous look on your face.

[”G-Genos, y-you’re here!” you stutter uncharacteristically, and Todoroki’s head is calculating at the speed of light at your behavior.

Genos barely spares you a glance as he readies another heat blast. “Be careful, [Name]. Stand back if you have to.”

“T-Thank you...! I feel so much safer with you!”]

What, is the only word that Todoroki is able to say. When Genos is done saving the day and leaves, the boy immediately confronts you about it. He’s blunt to a fault, so he has no problems asking what the hell was that while you avoid his gaze and poke your fingers together.

You look cute, he thinks, but your display is not for him.

Obviously what he feels is irritation, because that was a side you reserved solely for this stranger, he thinks, but he’s more confused than anything. You never look at Todoroki like that.

“W-Well... I just think he’s so cool and his Quirk is really amazing. His fire abilities are really something else... A-And on the weekends sometimes I see him at the supermarket and he helps me pick out groceries...”

You talk about how dreamy it is that Genos helps you get the best bargains at the supermarket and Todoroki sets out the next day with his dad’s credit card.

He doesn’t see the appeal of Genos’s actions, but if that’s what gets your attention, then he’s willing to try. He can do better than bargain meats.

For the next couple of weeks your eyes absolutely bug out when you open the door to your house and see premium meat and vegetables are just sitting on your doorstep.

He gets you the 7600 yen beef and this is Japan, the vegetables are expensive.

When you try to get him to stop, he’s just like, “Well, do you like them?” or “Is there something wrong with the produce? I can return it and get you new ones.”

You two end up going to the grocery store together on weekends because you try to physically stop him but it ends up as a supermarket date. ^^ Inner Todoroki is like take that Demonic Cyborg.

Your celebrity crush encourages him to do better with his fire side. He watches Genos’ powers online and recreates the same power the older Pro has, since that’s what made Genos so cool in your eyes.

High-key petty. He doesn’t throw away your Genos merch, but rather he constantly moves them around your shared home so your always taken back.

Amajiki Tamaki:

Of course, he thinks. Of course you have a crush on Hellish Blizzard. She’s prettier than he is, a lot stronger, more confident, if he were you he would choose Fubuki over Tamaki any day.

She does so many impressive things with her Quirk and even though his own is versatile, he’s never able to recreate the feats that she does, so he has no hope of grabbing your attention.

That being said, he encourages your interests and would find more excuses to talk to you without making a fool out of himself by talking about her most recent fights or about her in general.

If you guys do meet her in real life and you’re just there freaking out because you’re her biggest fan, he’s going to be just standing off to the side like yea ;;; I deserve this.

He does watch her videos too and maybe he would recreate some of her “coolness”? He would be revving up for a fight, and the climax of the battle is near, he’s about to win and he’s going to pull those witty “one-liners” to make you fall for him in a way that Blizzard does but then he remembers that you and other people are watching him and just ;;; fumbles.

He made a fool of himself, he totally did. He’s a complete loser in your eyes, he thinks, especially compared to your Hero.

Once you guys get together he’s completely over the moon, but thinks back to your celebrity crush and he’s like honestly? Even if he is the rebound, or the “placeholder” until you’re going to date Fubuki, because he has no doubts that you will reach any goal of yours, he’s fine with that.

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

He thinks his temporary happiness would be worth it.

When you come to him saying that you’re going to be working underneath Hellish Blizzard, and you’re so giddy with excitement, he just gets so sad all of a sudden. His shoulders sag and shake and he sighs so deeply.

“O-Oh... I-I knew this day was coming... D-Do you want to break up with me first? P-Please make it quick and painless t-though...”

And you’re just like, “What.”

He eventually explains that he thought you were just dating him for a while until you managed to date Fubuki and you’re just like ???

[“I mean--I like her, but it’s just a celebrity crush.” You grow sheepish at this point. “I-I do like her, but she’s just a figure in my head. I like you most of all, Tamaki!”

“B-But if you had the chance you would choose her over me, right? S-She’s strong and cool...”

“But I think you’re cool and strong too, Tamaki!”]

If you get stronger and she’s still going around doing the “rookie crushing” rounds, Tamaki is the only person strong enough to hold you back as you yell at her.

[“FUCK you, Fubuki! I followed you for years! I swore by you! I supported your career--I talked about you nonstop to my friends. My boyfriend was insecure for years--!”

“P-Please calm down, [Name]!”]

It turns out that Tamaki was the only celebrity crush you needed.

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shinyatiny · 3 years

Text

Flower Crown - yungi

Chapter four: A new face

_____________________________

Three days passed by quicker than Mingi would have desired. For three days he's been covered up in woolly covers, gawking at the ceiling with wide eyes. Midway through his self-isolation, the fact that he has to attend the festival had settled into his mind. Just the thought of himself struggling against all those courageous fighters made him feel ill to the stomach. There's no way he could fight those guys and succeed. He wasn't a skilled fighter, he was a magic specialist. In the worst-case scenario, he'd get his ass whooped or get injured, and either of those scenarios doesn't sound good to Mingi, at all.

He had no idea how much time was left because he hadn't come out of his chambers for days. Maybe the guards would barge into his room at any minute and drag him out of bed. With a muffled grumble, Mingi freed himself out of the pile of blankets around his body and went to his wardrobe, opening the double doors and peeking inside. As one would guess, he hadn't changed his clothes for at least three days. He smelled, he smelled really bad and he was conscious of that.

Stretching for a towel that was situated on the highest shelf, he tossed it atop his shoulder and unbuckled the silver belt around his pants. Now would be a good time to take a warm, relaxing bath. Especially before the chaos that was about to unravel. Not caring to close the closet doors, Mingi made his way out of his room and wandered to the nearest bathroom. A few servants gave the elf prince several concerned glimpses regarding his condition, but Mingi overlooked them and fastened his pace.

Once he had arrived at the bathroom, he slid through the door and locked it behind him. Flicking the switch on, the azure fairy lanterns brightened the formerly gloomy bathroom. Mingi stared at the lights for a hot second with a smile on his lips before looking around the bathroom. The bathtub was in the corner, shampoo bottles and a petite, yellow rubber duck on the edge. There was also a small shelf next to the bathtub with some towels and other necessary stuff on top of it.

°❀°

After taking a fresh bath, Mingi covered his body in a warm towel and glanced at the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and began to walk back to his quarters to change into his attire for the day. The corridors were calmer now and he didn't have to rush back to his room. He presumably would have slipped and injured himself if he had run.

And when more servants began to speed through the corridors, he did.

He slipped and collapsed.

Roughly three servants halted in their tracks and turned to look at Mingi who just face-planted straight to the floor, a sharp groan leaving his lips at the collision. One of the observing servants offered their hand for Mingi to take, but the young elf decided to take a brave face and decline the offer. He stood up from his awkward position and scraped his nape in discomfort, a red tint appearing on his cheeks. "Hi." Mingi blurted out, glancing at his feet with pursed lips. Before the servant could respond, Mingi had vanished.

"Oh my god, that was extremely embarrassing," Mingi whined to himself as he jerked the door to his room open and hid inside. He slid down against the door and hid his head between his knees, chuckling to himself because of his awkwardness. The towel around his hips had nearly fallen, so he adjusted it as he stood up again. As he got an extra towel to dry his hair, the door to his room unlocked with a loud creak. Mingi turned around in panic, fists darting to the cloth around his hips to hold it in place. "Who-"

His heart stopped beating for a second when he recognized it was one of the guards, standing tall in the doorway with a spear in his hand. "Excuse me for barging in so abruptly, but I have come to get you, prince Mingi. Your father's orders." The guard spoke sternly, nearing the young elf. Mingi had never noticed this particular guard, and he was instantly intrigued by what kind of a person he was. He looked young, extremely young for a guard. His fiery red hair was vibrant and it made him look like a real soldier. "Prince Mingi?" The guard tilted his head to the side, curly strands of hair hanging down his forehead.

The named elf took a step back, glaring at the guard with narrowed eyes. "Can you at least let me change first?" Mingi answered smoothly, a sigh leaving his lips when the guard nodded in approval. "Thank you." He stated, relieved. But after ten minutes, the guard hadn't left the room. Mingi lifted an eyebrow, staring at the guard in confusion. "Are you just going to stand there and watch as I change? You're not here to enjoy the show, are you? So leave, I'll come when I'm ready." He rolled his eyes, an evident grin dancing on his lips. The guard squinted at Mingi, turning around without saying a word, and fled the room.

The young elf breathed in vexation, slopping back on his mattress. He had no ambition to attend the festivities anymore but his father kept neglecting him. Why does he have to prove himself? Why does he have to do it to prove his clan's capability to the other clans? Is it so challenging to find a more experienced warrior to fight in his place? There was no point for Mingi to join the fighting festival. He'd just embarrass himself, his father, and the rest of the clans. What would happen if he lost?

"Why do I have to do this?" Mingi whined, burying his face in his cushion, letting his body relax against the soft bedding. He knew he had to go, but his silky sheets were making him sleepy all over again. He was also aware of the fact that the guard was waiting for him behind the door and if Mingi took longer than ten minutes to change, the guard would barge in once again to check on him. With a groan, he heaved himself up and walked to his closet, eyeing all the piles of fabric on the shelves. "I know my father wants me to change into something traditional, but do I have to wear all those necklaces with bones hanging from them?" He whispered to himself, feeling one of his shirts with his fingers, humming.

A few years ago, Mingi wore his clothes to Lenaia and he got yelled at by his father because he was supposed to wear something more "traditional" like his father always said. But the bones and weird symbols weren't his styles, and they would certainly not pique any interest in anyone. Since then, Mingi has obeyed his father's orders and has worn different bone necklaces and weird armor at the festival.

But today was different, Mingi was the representative of the Iris clan and he had to look exemplary. The chief's opinion wasn't important right now, the only thing Mingi wanted was to look good in front of the other clans. So he decided to wear whatever pleased his eye today. Although his closet was quite full of clothes, he was able to pick an outfit for the festival.

Mingi chose to wear an oversized white shirt with golden buttons and elegantly laced sleeves. He tucked the silky shirt under some black leather pants and buckled his favorite silver belt on. For shoes, he decided to go with plain black ones. This was nothing like the traditional outfit, and it would unquestionably get people's attention, but that's what he was there for; for attention. His father used him for image, nothing else. The plan was to attack with everything he possessed and come out as the victor. Mingi was nearly convinced he would lose. On purpose or not.

After added five minutes of attempting to pick the most suitable necklace, he selected a basic golden chain. It was something he regularly had on and he fancied it quite a bit. Seonghwa had given the piece of jewelry on Mingi's birthday last year and he was delighted to accept such a present from his friend. As his outfit was coming together excellently, he reached for the earring on his desk only to find it gone. With a faint gasp, Mingi browsed frantically throughout the chamber but had no success in locating the earring.

He touched his ear in discomfort, perching down on his bed with a thud. "But I just received it from Seonghwa..." He muttered to himself, his delicate fingers moving towards his golden markings, exploring the swirls and twists beneath the silky shirt. The earring reminded him of his mother, it had already become one of Mingi's most cherished items. There was no way he'd lose the piece of jewelry just like that. "Did I forget it in the bathroom?!" He said, eyes wide with realization, instantly standing up and throwing the door open.

As he opened the door, a squeal echoed in the corridors. It was a servant who had dropped her basket of fresh, unworn clothes on the floor after the door had knocked her. She glanced at the prince and then at the basket, a panicked expression settling on her features. Just as she was about to apologize and bend, Mingi lifted his hand to stop her from executing her plan. "Please, don't. It was my mistake." He beamed, picking up the basket and returning it to her. "I opened the door without considering twice about the servants who rush through the corridors. So apologies for that, Miss."

The girl stared at Mingi in wonder, finding it difficult to accept how distinct Mingi happened to be from his father. He presented the girl with a nonchalant grin and gave her the remainder of the now-dirtied clothes. "I — It's fine, don't bug about it." She replied bashfully, taking the clothes from Mingi's hand. "I was in your way anyways..." She smiled shyly, taking a step back so Mingi could step out into the hallway.

He sighed, shaking his head with a smile on his lips. "Unfortunately I have to disagree, Miss. I was the one who opened the door in the first place, so allow me to at least take these now-dirty clothes to the bathroom." He quirked up an eyebrow, eyeing the basket in the girl's hands. "It's the least I can do."

For a moment, Mingi had completely overlooked the red-haired guard who was standing close to the doorway, eyeing him up and down. When Mingi finally noticed the young guard, his eyes opened wide in embarrassment. The guard narrowed his eyes and pointed at his wrist as if to show Mingi he didn't have much time. The young servant tightened her grip on the basket full of fresh clothes and glimpsed at Mingi and the guard with pursed lips. "Excuse me... but I can deliver this to the bathroom." She spoke quietly, gaining the prince's attention.

Mingi shook his head, declining her sweet offer. "I was on my way to the bathroom anyways. You can go back wherever you came from." He smiled, taking the basket from the girl's pale hand. "This fine young man can escort you back if you'd like." He smirked, pushing the red-haired guard towards the girl. The said guard, halted in his steps, turning to look at Mingi with a confused look which the prince straight-up ignored. "Alright, I'll be on my way then."

Before he could turn around, the guard had grabbed Mingi's forearm and tugged him towards himself with more strength than he originally wanted to use. Mingi's eyes went wide and he shoved the guard away from him with a muted hiss. "Let go of me." He muttered, already sensing the warm tingles scattering from his arm to the remainder of his body. "I know you're new and all, but you should understand it's not relevant to grab someone solely like that." He spat, caressing the markings on his arm.

The guard froze in place, letting go of Mingi's arm immediately. The anguishing silence went on for another minute, the only thing making noise being the hasty footsteps of other servants. Until Mingi's loud sigh broke that silence, it was painfully silent. He gave the servant girl an apologizing look before taking the basket from her and dragging the guard towards the bathroom with him. The burning sensation in his arm hadn't gone away yet and it clouded his mind, made him almost lose his balance as he walked. He glanced at the guard, rolling his eyes at the neutral expression he wore.

Mingi let go of the guard's hand when they reached the bathroom and opened the door, balancing the basket with his other hand. The wooden basket hung on his shoulder, making it hard for him to open the heavy door. "Could you help me with the door?" He huffed, giving up. The other nodded his head briefly before pushing the door open. "Thank you. Now, I have something to say to you...?" He trailed, looking at the guard with a questioning look. "What's your name?"

"Jongho." The guard answered without breaking a sweat, straightening his back whilst Mingi asked him some questions. "My name is Jongho, sir." He said. The way Jongho spoke formally made Mingi want to roll his eyes and sigh as loudly as he could. He hated the fact that servants had to "worship" their "masters". It wasn't fair to the servants and the names made Mingi feel like he was a king or something. Jongho noticed Mingi's crestfallen expression, cocking his head to the left. "Prince Mingi? Is there something wrong?"

"Drop the formalities, Jongho. Just call me Mingi." The blonde remarked, entering the bathroom with Jongho. "I never liked to be called the 'prince', it makes me feel sick to my stomach for some reason. Feels like I'm putting myself before everyone else, and it makes me feel worshiped, I don't like it." He explained, leaning against the counter. Jongho blinked twice before nodding slowly, scratching the back of his neck with a shy smile.

"But-"

"Come on, you can do it."

"P—Mingi," Jongho said awkwardly, stuttering with his words. "Are you sure I can call you that? Won't it be too awkward?" He added, anxiously looking for an answer in Mingi's eyes. The prince let out a breathy laugh, placing a hand on Jongho's shoulder like some old friends.

"Don't worry about it. We're basically best friends already, right?" Mingi laughed, nudging the other's shoulder. "Anyway, I have some questions." He said, taking the hand away from Jongho's shoulder. "Based on your reaction earlier, it seems as if you have no idea what markings are. That means you're either not an elf or you've lived under a rock your whole life. I think the first one is the case here, don't you think so too?"

As if getting hit by a frying pan, Jongho froze before Mingi, visible panic in his expression. The way he stopped functioning completely made even Mingi worried for a second. "I — what are you talking about?" Jongho laughed nervously, his grip around his spear tightening further. "Are you implying I'm not an elf?" He said, his other hand gripping the brown shirt he was wearing. "But I am."

Mingi raised his eyebrows, nodding while a sly smirk played on his lips. Jongho gulped under Mingi's judging gaze, eyes finding the floor. "Of course, I believe you. Oh, and out of curiosity, where's your Iris located? And what about your markings? Mine is on my forearm; in the same exact place you grabbed onto." He said, sitting on the marble counter, arms crossed. "Jongho, I can see through your hoax. I don't mind the fact that you aren't an elf, but lying like this isn't smart either, so spit it out."

"I'm am an elf."

"That's the best joke of this century."

"I-"

"Lying won't get you anywhere, Jongho."

Jongho raised his chin to look into Mingi's chocolate brown eyes, finding it a bit awkward that Mingi knew precisely what he was about to say. He didn't mind the idea of Mingi knowing about his true identity, but if he were to tell anyone else about it, it would certainly stir the pot a little bit. "Fine." Jongho sighed, putting more weight on the spear, almost leaning against the wooden object. "You guessed it, I'm not an elf." He raised his hand in the air as if he was surrendering. Biting his tongue, Jongho examined Mingi's neutral, almost disappointed expression for a few seconds before speaking again. "You seem disappointed, Mingi ." This was the first time he had ever used the prince's name like this and it made things a little awkward, at least for Jongho.

The blonde let out a snort, shutting his eyes before speaking. "And you act like I hadn't figured that out already, Jongho." The way the red head's name slipped through his lips was almost cunning as if he was playing with the name on purpose. Jongho observed as Mingi hopped down the counter and made his way towards the bathtub, picking up a shampoo bottle, examining the label out of boredom. "Then what are you? You clearly aren't a fae because I don't see any shimmering wings on you. Plus you're more muscular than I am and faes are usually tiny and delicate, they're smaller than elves, maybe even smaller than humans."

Jongho sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose in utter frustration. The way Mingi talked made him somewhat annoyed, if not irritated even. "No, I'm obviously not a fae. You think a fae would be as big as me?" He snorted in unbelief, raising a questioning eyebrow at Mingi. "I'm a berserker, Mingi. You're familiar with berserkers, correct? You know, the fierce, powerful species of warriors? The species that are known for not using their brain?" He explained nonchalantly as if he were speaking to a five-year-old boy.

The said "five-year-old boy" blinked at Jongho, mouth open in disbelief as if he had just heard about someone's passing. His pointy ears perked up, proving he was attentively paying attention to every single word. A berserker in an elf village? That's something Mingi never imagined would occur, not now, not ever, nor has he seen a berserker before. He definitely thought berserkers would be larger than this, like the ones in his books. "You're a goddamn berserker?!" Mingi replied, eyes wide like huge plates. "I understood berserkers were this big," he said, raising his hand above his head. "and you definitely aren't. Damn, even I'm taller than you, Jongho." He continued with a low chuckle, disregarding the annoyed scowls he got from the younger. "How the hell were you able to get work from here?"

Jongho hummed with pursed lips, turning his head to the side as he considered for an answer. Mingi watched as the other's red curls fell down his forehead, formulating a definite picture of Jongho in Mingi's mind. Jongho was admittedly attractive, that Mingi couldn't dismiss, and the red, fiery hair made the entire masterpiece intact. Even in metal armor, Mingi was able to distinguish Jongho's sturdy build and his exquisite characteristics.

Jongho noticed Mingi gazing and coughed, attempting to gain the other's attention. Mingi blinked twice and panicked a tad bit before grinning widely, rubbing his nape. The guard rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. "I got in through someone I know, but you don't have to worry about that, Mingi." He explained hastily, not granting Mingi an answer. "I know being a berserker inside an elf community might not be the safest of ideas, but no individual has discerned yet, besides you of course. I believed my facade was flawless, but I suppose it was not."

"First of all," Mingi said, pointing a finger at Jongho's chest plate, adding pressure to the finger. "No elf is built like this, mister berserker. You have more muscle than everyone in the village combined, and that's a lot of muscle. Look at me for instance, you could presumably break all my limbs just by grazing them with your pinkie." He snorted, tapping the other's shoulder. "I mean, how the hell wasn't my father capable of recognizing you from the other guards? Sort of questionable if you ask me, but you assured me I don't need to worry about it, so I'll drop the topic for now. I know my father doesn't prefer to wait and we've wasted plenty of time in this darned bathroom. I got what I craved for anyways." He said, hand finding its way to his pocket, pulling the shiny piece of jewelry out.

"What's that?" Jongho lifted an eyebrow, staring at the earring Mingi was holding in his grasp. The golden star was peeking through Mingi's fingers, the chain a little messy from remaining in his pocket for so long. "Is that a family heirloom of some kind? Looks important." He spoke, detaching his back from the wall, walking to the door. Mingi hummed, letting the earring dangle on his fingers. "You know, you don't need to fight if you don't fancy to, Mingi. You appeared stressed when I reached your chamber, it's like you disliked the fact you had to go."

"Oh please, I never desired this in the first place, Jongho. My father's been pulling my strings from the very beginning. It's not like I can do anything concerning it." Mingi breathed, reaching for his ear with the earring and placing it in its rightful place. "But you're right, I don't want to fight, in fact, I want to leave this village and live somewhere else. But I can't. I presume my father intends on wedding me off to a woman from another clan, but I don't want to live my life like that. I want to live freely for as long as I can without being tied down to someone."

"Mingi-"

"And I don't want to settle down with anyone yet."

"Listen-"

"Do you understand, Jongho? I wish to explore the enchanted woodlands without a care in the world." Mingi babbled, disregarding the guard nonchalantly. "I don't even know if I-"

"Goddamn it, Mingi. Let me speak will you?" Jongho exploded, hitting the floor with his wooden staff. Mingi froze like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes fixating on the younger. The said guard sighed and tightened the grip on his spear, lifting a brow at the blonde. "Why do you speak so much? Gosh." He rolled his eyes playfully. "I'm sorry, but I can't do anything regarding your problem. If you say you don't have a choice but to attend the festival, then I can't help you. And as you just stated, let's not keep your father waiting any longer, I don't want him to hit you or anything of the like. Also, sorry for talking to you so informally, it still feels a bit improper of me to call you merely by your first name."

"I-" Mingi struggled, mouth hanging open as he thought of an answer. "It's perfectly fine, I understand your concern, but it's fine, truly. I hope you're not uneasy about me calling you by your name. I simply don't like to shove my title into each conversation I have, so using first names is the most beneficial for me."

"And I appreciate you being so thoughtful of others, Mingi. I haven't seen someone similar to you in ages." Jongho nodded with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Now, shall we go meet your father?"

"Please, I don't deserve such compliments from you." Mingi beamed back, throwing an arm around Jongho's shoulder. The younger gave him a troubled look but accepted it nevertheless. "Let's go meet my old man."

°❀°

The chief was impatiently waiting for the pair, tapping the floor with his foot. The atmosphere around him was cloudy and dark which caused some of the servants to grow fearful of him. When he finally acknowledged the two figures strolling towards him, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Only after he realized what Mingi was wearing did his smile fade into oblivion. "Son." He stated coldly, eyeing his son up and down. "I thought I was very clear about the dress code. You seem to have forgotten about my orders."

Jongho glanced at the blonde, examining Mingi's carefree expression in confusion. The said elf quirked up an eyebrow, lazily grinning at his father like he didn't worry at all. "Oh, your orders were quite clear, I just didn't feel like following them, that's all," Mingi stated, stopping in front of his father. He stood in front of the younger berserker, keeping him behind for good measure. "You see, I'm there for attention, nothing else. I'm aware of the fact that I won't succeed even if I tried my goddamn hardest out there, and so are you. I have no clue why you concluded it would be an excellent plan to put your son, who isn't able to fight at all by the way, out there to compete. It just doesn't make any sense to me."

A visible crease appeared between the elder's brows, a grim expression forming on his face. Mingi had definitely hit a line there. "I think you know exactly why I want you to fight at the festival, Mingi." He stated, stepping forwards. "I've thought about this for months and came to the conclusion that it would be a perfect opportunity to prove what our clan is capable of. I'm sure you understand-"

"And you'd put me out there even though you know I'll get hurt and injured? You'd risk your own son for fame?" Mingi cocked his head to the left, disappointment written all over his face, but when Jongho looked closer it was as if the blonde knew exactly how this would go. "Heavens, father. You're the parent of the year. I swear I'll leave this godforsaken village after the festival." He sighed, grabbing Jongho's arm so they could leave his father alone. The berserker gasped at the sudden skin contact but didn't say anything about it, trailing behind Mingi as they made their way somewhere else.

"Mingi!" His father yelled from behind, making the young berserker grimace at the raspy voice of his boss. "Come back here this instant! I wasn't ready with you!"

Mingi chuckled to himself, fastening his pace, tightening his grasp on Jongho's hand. "Ignore him, he knows I'm right." He said with a wide grin, glancing at Jongho over his broad shoulder. "Also, do you know where I have to go so I can prepare for the battles? No one ever informed me and I never bothered to investigate either," He laughed.

"Of course," The berserker smiled. "I can take you there."

#ateez #yungi #ateez yungi #jongho #mingi #writing #fanfiction #piercings #earrings #fanfic #ao3 author #elf #cute

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