#and turned her down a different storyline

[chimcess]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Other Tags: Football Player!Hoseok, Teacher!Reader, Firefighter!Namjoon, Older Brother!Namjoon, Architect!Taehyung, Older Brother!Taehyung, Property Developer!Jungkook Genre: Christmas AU, Strangers to Lovers AU, Crack (low-key), Romantic Comedy, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, Smut Word Count: 27.1k+ Summary: It's Christmas, but the HOA is being a real Grinch. Hoseok is determined to save the holiday for his niece and nephew, but he'll need some help to pull it off. With a little teamwork from the trio living across the street, he might just be able to outsmart the HOA and make this a Christmas to remember. Warnings: HOA being the devil (wow, what a surprise...), Jealous!Taehyung, Namjoon is so over his shit, Reader too, Tae and Joon are both overprotective, Hoseok is a really great uncle, Halmark Christmas movie ass storyline, strong language, sexual tension, slight public exposure (completely on accident), kissing, tongue kissing, making out, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple positions, protected sex (wrap it up), lowkey soft dom Hoseok, handjob, multiple orgasms, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Happy holidays!

The cold had settled in early this year, and Hoseok felt it in every corner of Colorado. December wasn't even over, but winter had already made itself comfortable, like an uninvited guest who planned to overstay. This wasn't the sharp, biting cold he knew from Illinois—the kind that slapped you in the face and stole your breath. No, Colorado's chill was cunning. It lingered just out of sight, waiting to slip into your bones when you least expected it.

Heated seats in his Land Rover weren't just a fancy perk; they were a necessity. Survival gear, really. His friends teased him about his top three reasons for loving his car. Number one was always the sound system—naturally. But if Namjoon was asking, he'd wax poetic about the impeccable safety ratings.

He hadn't meant to drive four hours from Denver to Salida on a whim. But when his sister Ji-woo called yesterday, her voice frayed at the edges, everything else took a backseat. She'd offered him a home-cooked meal, which was suspicious in itself. Ji-woo didn't cook unless there was a crisis. An invitation for a "warm, homemade dinner" was basically code red.

Without a second thought, he'd tossed an overnight bag into the backseat and hit the road. As he navigated through her labyrinth of a neighborhood—every house a carbon copy of the last—he understood why she always complained about getting lost. It was like driving through a real-life game of Spot the Difference, except there were no differences.

But it wasn't the monotony that made him pause when he pulled up to her house. It was the darkness. No Christmas lights twinkling in the frost, no inflatable reindeer wobbling on the lawn. Nothing. Ji-woo, who usually turned her home into a festive explosion the day after Thanksgiving, had left it bare. Hoseok pulled his jacket tighter as he stepped out, boots crunching on the icy driveway. He knocked on the door, the sound echoing down the eerily quiet street. His breath formed little clouds as he waited, a gnawing worry settling in his stomach.

Across the street, Taehyung squinted through his living room window, eyes fixed on Hoseok. "Someone's at Ji-woo's place," he mumbled, not budging an inch.

In the kitchen, Y/N shook her head with a smile. "She's allowed to have visitors, you know," she called out, balancing a tray of hot cocoa and freshly baked cookies.

"He looks... suspicious," Taehyung grumbled, still glued to the glass.

"Or maybe he's just cold," Y/N teased, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "Come on, leave the poor guy alone. We've got Elf queued up and everything."

Taehyung finally tore himself away from the window, his gaze drifting to the marshmallows melting into the cocoa. "Did you make the cookies with peanut butter chips?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"Like I'd forget," Y/N replied, a grin tugging at her lips. "No Kim family recipe skips the peanut butter chips."

He took a bite, his features softening as the familiar taste hit. "Dad would've approved," he said quietly.

"Yeah," she agreed, the moment hanging between them like a delicate ornament.

Back outside, Hoseok knocked again, shivering as a gust of wind snuck past his collar. He was about to fish out his phone when the door creaked open. Ji-woo stood there, her hair piled messily atop her head, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. But when she saw him, a flicker of relief crossed her face.

"You're here," she breathed, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Of course I'm here," he murmured into her hair. "You promised me a dubious home-cooked meal, remember?"

She laughed softly, the sound muffled against his coat. "Come in before you freeze."

Inside, the house felt... empty. Not physically—the furniture was all there—but the usual warmth was missing. No garlands draped over the fireplace, no stockings hung with care. Even the Christmas tree in the corner looked half-hearted, as if it knew it wasn't living up to expectations.

Ji-woo sank onto the couch with a weary sigh. "I think I made a mistake moving here."

Hoseok settled into the armchair across from her. "What's going on? Did the Grinch steal your decorations?"

"Worse," she groaned. "The HOA did."

He raised an eyebrow. "They're anti-Christmas now?"

"More like anti-fun. They have all these rules—no colored lights, no inflatable anything, no decorations that could be considered 'tacky' or 'disruptive.' Everything has to be white lights, tastefully arranged. It's like living in a Christmas museum."

"You're kidding," he said, but one look at her face told him she wasn't.

"The kids are miserable," she continued. "Arabella keeps asking why our house doesn't look 'happy' anymore. Maxwell made a protest sign that says 'We Miss Santa' and wants to picket in front of the HOA president's house."

Hoseok couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, he's got your flair for the dramatic."

"Tell me about it," she sighed. "I tried to explain, but how do you tell a seven-year-old that some people think joy is gaudy?"

He leaned forward. "Have you talked to the HOA? Maybe there's a loophole or something."

Ji-woo rolled her eyes. "Oh, I've talked to them. Rachel McDonald and her sidekick Tiffany Wallace run the place like it's their personal kingdom. They're like the Plastics from Mean Girls, but with power suits and a vendetta against colored LEDs."

"Oh, fantastic," Hoseok mumbled. "Mean girls with a homeowners' association to rule. Just what you needed."

Ji-woo laughed without much humor. "It gets better. Rachel's husband, Jeff? He spends his days flirting with the younger moms at the playground, always going on about how he could've gone pro if not for his 'career-ending car accident.' He was the high school football star, and he never lets anyone forget it."

"Let me guess," Hoseok said, already seeing the picture. "He's one of those guys who peaked in high school?"

"Exactly," Ji-woo confirmed. "And he's a total mess. He almost hit one of the Kim siblings—Y/N, the youngest—after a football game. Drives around drunk like he owns the place."

"Wow," Hoseok muttered, a knot forming in his stomach. "And nobody does anything about it?"

"Small towns," Ji-woo sighed, shrugging. "People overlook a lot, especially when it comes to the so-called golden boy. It's infuriating."

Before Hoseok could respond, a high-pitched voice sliced through the air.

"Uncle Hobi!"

A whirlwind of pink pajamas and tangled black hair hurtled across the room, colliding with his legs like a tiny freight train. Hoseok barely had time to steady himself before Maxwell wrapped his arms around him, nearly toppling them both.

"Whoa there, buddy!" Hoseok laughed, ruffling the boy's hair as he crouched down to hug him properly. Maxwell's face beamed up at him, eyes sparkling with pure joy. "How've you been?"

"Good!" Maxwell chirped, bouncing on his toes. "You're staying, right? You can stay forever now!"

Before he could answer, another figure appeared in the doorway—Arabella, her dark eyes casting a skeptical glance toward the window, as if the lackluster holiday lights were a personal affront. She was more reserved than her brother, but when she saw Hoseok, a small smile played at the corner of her mouth.

"Hey, Arabella," Hoseok said gently. "Think I can get a hug from you too?"

She walked over slowly, her steps measured, but when she hugged him, it was warm and sincere. The weight of their little arms around him filled the room with a lightness that hadn't been there moments before.

Just like that, the house felt a little less cold.

They say a watched pot never boils. Turns out, a watched coffee maker isn't in any rush either. Y/N hovered over the machine, silently pleading for it to hurry up—as if her very survival depended on that first cup. And honestly, it did. Without coffee, she was more like a friendly ghost drifting through her own kitchen.

The toaster snapped up with a clatter, launching her bagel into the air. She caught it instinctively, barely registering the motion, and spread a generous layer of garden veggie cream cheese on top. Her eyes kept drifting back to the coffee maker, as if it held all the answers. Finally, it gurgled to a finish, and she poured herself a mug with the kind of reverence usually reserved for sacred ceremonies.

The first sip was bliss—a warm embrace that chased away the lingering fog in her mind. For a moment, everything was peaceful. No second graders vying for attention, no stacks of ungraded papers looming over her. Just her and the coffee, wrapped in a quiet truce with the morning.

But peace was fleeting.

"That car's still there," Taehyung's voice broke the silence, rough and low like gravel underfoot. He shuffled into the kitchen, more bear than man, still tangled in the remnants of sleep. Before his own caffeine fix, Taehyung was best approached with caution.

Y/N took another sip, unfazed. "They pulled in late last night," she replied evenly, not rising to his grumpy bait.

He grunted, grabbed a mug, tore open a packet of Pop-Tarts, and retreated back to his room, a nocturnal creature avoiding the daylight. Y/N smiled to herself, already looking forward to her morning walk—the one slice of the day that was entirely hers. She laced up her sneakers, threw on a jacket, and stepped outside into the gentle hush of their new neighborhood.

Salida was still strange to her, each house a mirror image of the next, every lawn meticulously maintained. It was pleasant enough but felt more like a pit stop than a destination. Taehyung had found them a good deal here, courtesy of his job, and it served its purpose—a temporary escape while they figured out their next move.

She set off on her usual route, the cold air refreshing against her skin. The fog hung low, turning the streets into a watercolor painting of muted grays and soft edges. She let her mind wander, savoring the solitude.

Then she noticed it—a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision. At first, she thought it was a trick of the fog, but there it was again—a figure moving with effortless grace, just enough to catch her eye. Tall and solid, with an athletic stride. One detail snagged her attention more than she'd like to admit: a very, very nice backside.

Y/N felt warmth rise in her cheeks and shook her head, half-amused at herself. Who was that? She didn't recognize him, but then again, she and Taehyung weren't exactly mingling at neighborhood block parties. Taehyung was more invested in keeping tabs on the comings and goings around them—especially since Ji-woo had moved in across the street.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she continued her walk, her heartbeat just a touch quicker than before. The cold nipped at her face, but she hardly noticed. Her thoughts were elsewhere, caught up in that brief, intriguing glimpse.

Would she see him again?

It was a silly thought, and she laughed softly to herself. Still, there was a flutter in her chest—a tiny spark that felt new and welcome. By the time she looped back to the house, her cheeks were flushed, and not just from the cold.

Inside, Taehyung was hunched over his coffee at the kitchen table, looking marginally more awake but no less grumpy.

"What took you so long?" he asked, one eyebrow arched. "And why are you grinning like that?"

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. "Just enjoying the morning."

He gave her a skeptical look but didn't press further, muttering something unintelligible as he turned back to his mug.

Y/N just smiled to herself, knowing full well that her morning walks had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

Hoseok pushed open the front door, a gust of cold air following him inside. His lungs burned pleasantly from his morning run, and despite the sweat cooling on his skin, he felt invigorated. December had painted the world outside in shades of white and silver, but inside, the house was warm and smelled like coffee.

"Uncle Hobi, quiet," a small voice scolded.

He looked down to see Arabella standing there, hands on her tiny hips, clad in bright pink pajamas that were a size too big. Her serious expression was almost comical on such a small face.

"Sorry, Ari," he whispered, grinning. He crouched down to her level, arms open for a hug.

She hesitated. "You're sweaty."

He laughed. "Can't argue with that." But before he could retract his offer, she stepped forward and gave him a quick squeeze, then immediately wrinkled her nose.

"Yuck. You need a shower," she declared, pulling back.

"Noted," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

She toddled off toward the living room, probably to her favorite spot by the Christmas tree—the one that looked a bit forlorn without its usual explosion of lights.

Hoseok headed into the kitchen, where Ji-woo leaned against the counter, a mug cradled in her hands. She raised an eyebrow as he entered.

"You're up early," she remarked.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied, grabbing a glass of water. "Too many thoughts buzzing around."

"Ah," she said, taking a sip. "The infamous Hoseok brainstorm."

He grinned. "I've got an idea."

She eyed him warily. "Should I be concerned?"

"Probably," he admitted. "But hear me out."

She gestured for him to continue but then scrunched up her nose. "Actually, maybe tell me after you've showered."

He feigned offense. "You and Arabella both. Is my post-run glow that unbearable?"

"It's less 'glow' and more 'glisten,'" she teased. "And yes."

He chuckled, backing out of the kitchen. "Fine, I'll cleanse myself of this so-called glisten."

"Thank you," she called after him.

As he climbed the stairs, his mind returned to his plan. The HOA's ban on colorful Christmas lights was the last straw. Arabella's disappointment each time she looked outside was palpable, and it tugged at him more than he'd like to admit.

Maybe if he could convince Ji-woo to take the kids to their parents' house for the holidays, they'd get the festive experience they deserved. And while they were gone, perhaps he could find a way to negotiate with—or outsmart—the HOA.

After a hot shower, he felt more human. The steam had cleared his head, and he dressed quickly, eager to share his thoughts. Back in the kitchen, Ji-woo was scrolling through her phone, a frown creasing her forehead.

"More HOA drama?" he asked, rubbing a towel over his damp hair.

She sighed, setting the phone aside. "They're sending reminders about the 'holiday decor guidelines.' It's like they have a vendetta against joy."

He poured himself a cup of coffee. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

She looked up, curious. "Oh?"

He took a sip before speaking. "What if you took the kids to Mom and Dad's for Christmas? Let them have the full festive experience without the Grinch HOA ruining it."

She considered this. "I don't know... They were excited to spend Christmas here."

He nodded. "I get that. But here feels... stifled. They can't decorate the way they want. At least at Mom and Dad's, they can go all out."

She traced the rim of her mug with a finger. "I suppose Arabella would love baking with Mom."

"And Maxwell can help Dad set up the train set," Hoseok added.

A small smile played on her lips. "They would enjoy that."

"Plus," he continued, "I can stay here and see if there's any way to reason with the HOA. Maybe find a loophole or two."

She raised an eyebrow. "You and your loopholes."

He shrugged, grinning. "It's a gift."

She laughed softly. "Alright. I'll talk to the kids."

Relief washed over him. "Great. I think it'll be good for all of you."

As she stood to rinse her mug, she glanced at him. "What about you? Spending Christmas alone?"

He waved off her concern. "I'll be fine. Someone's got to hold down the fort."

She gave him a knowing look. "If you say so."

He leaned against the counter, thoughts drifting to the woman he'd seen on his run that morning. There was something about the way she'd moved, the determination in her stride. He found himself hoping their paths might cross again.

Y/N stepped into the house, shaking off the chill from outside. Taehyung's car was parked at an awkward angle in the driveway—a telltale sign of his mood. Inside, she found Namjoon sitting on the edge of the couch, his posture tense but composed. Taehyung paced the length of the living room, agitation rolling off him in waves.

"Hey," she greeted cautiously.

Namjoon looked over, relief flickering in his eyes. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

She set her bag down. "What's going on?"

Taehyung stopped mid-pace. "There's a stranger at Ji-woo's house."

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. "You mean her brother?"

He crossed his arms. "We don't know that."

Namjoon sighed. "Tae, we've been over this. Not every new person is a threat."

"But we have to be vigilant," Taehyung insisted. "Especially after everything."

Y/N felt a pang in her chest. "I get it," she said gently. "But maybe we should give people the benefit of the doubt."

He shook his head. "You didn't see the way he was sneaking around."

Namjoon stood up. "How about this—I’ll go over and introduce myself. Invite them to the community Christmas party. If there's anything off, I'll pick up on it."

Taehyung considered this. "Fine. But be careful."

"I always am," Namjoon assured him. He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door. "Y/N, keep an eye on him."

She nodded. "Will do."

After Namjoon left, the room fell into a heavy silence. Taehyung resumed his pacing, though slower this time.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He shrugged. "Just don't want anything to happen. Not again."

She understood. The past had left its marks on all of them. "I know."

He glanced at her. "You think I'm overreacting."

"I think you're protective," she said. "But sometimes that can come across as... intense."

He managed a small smile. "Understatement of the year."

She returned the smile. "Just try to relax a bit. Maybe focus on something else."

He sat down beside her. "Like what?"

She hesitated, then decided to take a chance. "I've been thinking about volunteering at the youth center's holiday event. Could use an extra pair of hands."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe," she admitted. "Is it working?"

He chuckled. "A little."

They sat in comfortable quiet for a moment. Y/N's thoughts drifted to the man she'd seen that morning—the one with the easy smile and kind eyes. She wondered what his story was.

"Earth to Y/N," Taehyung said, waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinked. "Sorry. Zoned out."

"Thinking about your students?"

"Something like that," she replied, not ready to share her musings.

He studied her for a moment. "You seem... different lately."

"Different how?"

He shrugged. "Happier."

She considered this. "Maybe."

"That's good," he said sincerely.

"Thanks." She bumped his shoulder lightly. "See? Not everything is doom and gloom."

He smiled. "I'll try to remember that."

The late afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting everything in a soft, golden hue. Y/N felt a tiny flicker of hope ignite inside her chest. Maybe—just maybe—this Christmas would bring something new, something good.

She glanced over at Taehyung, who was slouched on the couch, half-watching a mindless reality show. He was still brooding, eyebrows knit together in that way that made him look both serious and a little ridiculous.

"So," she said, leaning back and stretching her arms over her head, "do you think Namjoon's going to make it back alive, or should we start assembling a search party?"

Taehyung grunted, eyes never leaving the screen. "Laugh all you want, but when Namjoon returns with the truth, you'll see. Mark my words, Y/N. I'm onto something big."

She hid a smile behind her hand. "Oh, I have no doubt you're onto something."

Life with her brothers was never dull—a constant whirlwind of conspiracies and overreactions. But she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Ji-woo stared at Hoseok like he'd suggested they celebrate Christmas on the moon.

"Absolutely not," she declared, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I'm not letting those Stepford wives think they've won."

Hoseok could practically see the steam rising from her. That familiar storm brewing in her eyes—a mix of stubbornness and simmering rage. The HOA drama had pushed her right to the edge, and suggesting they spend the holidays at their parents' place was apparently the final straw.

"Ji, it's just a suggestion," he said gently. "The kids might enjoy—"

"The kids don't want to leave their home for Christmas," she interrupted, her voice firm. "And I am not giving Tiffany Wallace and Rachel McDonald the satisfaction."

He sighed, bracing himself as she launched into a tirade. She recounted every passive-aggressive comment, every forced smile, every time they'd conveniently "forgotten" to inform her about some new HOA rule.

"And can you believe Tiffany had the nerve to ask if I was a lesbian?" Ji-woo fumed, her cheeks flushing. "As if it's any of her business! Probably just so she'd have something juicy to share at her next book club meeting."

Hoseok nodded along, his mind starting to wander. It wasn't that he didn't care—he did—but he'd heard variations of this rant many times before.

"And Rachel," Ji-woo continued, her eyes narrowing. "She looks down her nose at everyone, like she's the queen of this suburban prison."

He was just about to suggest they take a deep breath when a knock sounded at the door. Saved by the bell.

Ji-woo paused, exchanging a curious glance with Hoseok before heading to the door. He followed her, curious.

When she opened it, Namjoon Kim stood on the porch, his usual calm smile in place. He looked every bit the part of the friendly neighborhood fire chief, his uniform crisp and his posture relaxed.

"Captain Kim," Ji-woo greeted, her tone shifting to something warmer. "What brings you by?"

"Evening, Ms. Lee," he replied politely. Hoseok noticed the slight wince his sister gave at the use of her married name, but she recovered quickly.

"I was just over at the Kims'—the other Kims," Namjoon added with a chuckle. "Wanted to make sure you knew about the town Christmas party tonight. It's a big deal around here. Santa, caroling, more cookies than anyone should probably eat."

He handed her a colorful flyer, and Ji-woo's face softened as she took it. "That sounds wonderful. The kids would love it."

Hoseok stepped forward, offering a friendly smile. "Mind if I tag along?"

Namjoon turned to him, eyes widening slightly. "Wait a minute—you’re Hoseok Jung."

Hoseok gave a modest shrug. "Guilty as charged."

Namjoon broke into a grin. "My siblings are huge fans. Heck, I’m a huge fan."

Before Hoseok could respond, a small whirlwind barreled into his legs.

"Uncle Hobi!" Arabella squealed, her Elsa pajamas a blur of blue and sparkles as she hugged him tightly.

He scooped her up, her giggles filling the entryway. "Hey there, princess. Shouldn't you be napping?"

She shook her head vigorously. "Can't sleep. No lights."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. "No lights?"

Ji-woo sighed. "HOA restrictions. We're not allowed to put up colored lights or inflatables."

"Seriously?" Namjoon's friendly demeanor shifted, a frown creasing his forehead. "That's... unusual."

"That's Tiffany and Rachel," Ji-woo muttered. "They've made it their mission to suck the joy out of the neighborhood."

Hoseok nodded. "Ari loves the colored lights. White ones just aren't the same."

Namjoon looked thoughtful. "Well, that doesn't seem fair. Maybe there's something we can do about that."

Hoseok watched him with interest. There was a quiet determination in Namjoon's eyes, the kind that suggested he wasn't one to let things slide.

"Anyway," Namjoon said, his smile returning as he looked back at Ji-woo. "Hope to see you all at the party tonight. And Hoseok, if you don't mind signing an autograph or two..."

Hoseok laughed. "Not at all. Happy to."

As Namjoon headed back across the street, Hoseok turned to his sister, still holding Arabella in his arms.

"Looks like this town has a few surprises," he remarked.

Ji-woo chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, Namjoon? He's just the beginning. Stick around—you'll see."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

She patted his shoulder as she headed back toward the kitchen. "Trust me. You might even start liking it here."

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Maybe this detour wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Namjoon slammed the front door open, the sound echoing through the quiet house like a sudden clap of thunder. Y/N looked up from her book, startled. It wasn't like Namjoon to make a scene—he was the steady one, the calm one. But today, his face was clouded, eyes sharp and determined.

"Taehyung!" he called, his voice carrying up the stairs with an urgency that made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

There was a muffled crash from upstairs, followed by a groan. Moments later, Taehyung appeared at the top of the staircase, hair tousled and eyes bleary. He rubbed at his face, clearly pulled from a deep sleep.

"What's going on, Joon?" he mumbled, starting down the steps. He didn't seem to notice the tension radiating from his older brother.

Namjoon didn't waste a second. "Do you have any idea what kind of company you work for?" he demanded, pointing out the front window toward Mrs. Lee's house across the street. His voice was tight, controlled—but Y/N could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Taehyung blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Mrs. Lee just told me that Tiffany and Rachel are preventing her from putting up the Christmas decorations her kids love," Namjoon said, each word clipped. "Apparently, the HOA has banned colorful lights and inflatable decorations. Little Ari is heartbroken."

Taehyung frowned, glancing between Namjoon and Y/N. "I don't handle HOA rules," he said slowly. "I'm an architect, not a policy maker."

"But you work for the development company that runs this neighborhood," Namjoon pressed. "Surely you know someone who can do something about this."

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I mean, I can call Jungkook. He's more involved with that side of things."

"Good," Namjoon said firmly. "Because it's ridiculous that kids can't have Christmas lights because of some overzealous HOA board."

Y/N stood up, hoping to ease the tension. "Maybe it's just a misunderstanding," she offered gently. "HOAs can be tricky with their rules."

Namjoon shook his head. "Whether it's a misunderstanding or not, it needs to be fixed."

Taehyung pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. "I'll give Jungkook a call," he said, already heading toward the kitchen.

As he disappeared from view, Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. Y/N stepped closer.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He nodded, but his eyes were still stormy. "I just can't stand the thought of those kids missing out on Christmas because of some pointless rule."

She offered a small smile. "You're a good man, Namjoon."

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Don't spread that around."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"By the way," Namjoon said, his tone shifting to something lighter, almost teasing. "I don't think Taehyung realizes who Mrs. Lee's guest is."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Namjoon's eyes sparkled with mischief. "The guy you saw over there this morning? That's Hoseok Jung."

Her mouth fell open. "Wait—the Hoseok Jung? As in the two-time Super Bowl champion?"

He nodded. "The very same."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, memories of her morning walk flooding back—the tall figure jogging past her, the way he'd moved with effortless grace. She'd noticed him, sure, but she hadn't realized...

"Language, Y/N," Namjoon teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the grin spreading across her face. "I can't believe it. How did I not recognize him?"

"Probably because you were too busy daydreaming," he joked.

"Hardly," she shot back, nudging him playfully. "Besides, he was wearing a hat and sunglasses."

"Excuses, excuses."

Just then, Taehyung re-entered the room, looking exasperated. "Jungkook's in the shower, but his wife said he'll call me back soon."

"Great," Namjoon replied. "We need to get this sorted out."

Taehyung flopped onto the couch, rubbing his temples. "This HOA stuff is such a headache."

Y/N sat beside him. "We haven't really been paying attention to their rules, have we?"

He shrugged. "We put up a tree inside. That's about the extent of our holiday spirit."

Namjoon crossed his arms. "Well, maybe it's time we all got a bit more involved. Can't let a few grinches ruin Christmas for everyone."

Taehyung glanced at Y/N. "What's got him so fired up?"

She smiled softly. "Mrs. Lee's kids can't put up their decorations. Namjoon's on a mission to fix it."

"And Hoseok Jung is staying with her," Namjoon added, watching Taehyung's reaction.

Taehyung looked blank. "Who?"

Y/N laughed. "Only one of the most famous quarterbacks in football."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know I don't follow sports."

Namjoon shook his head in mock disbelief. "Honestly, Tae. Sometimes I wonder how we're related."

Taehyung smirked. "Well, I got the looks."

Y/N groaned. "And the humility."

Their banter eased the remaining tension, a familiar rhythm that brought a sense of normalcy back into the room.

"I'll talk to Jungkook as soon as he calls," Taehyung promised. "We'll figure something out."

"Thanks," Namjoon said sincerely.

Y/N rested a hand on Namjoon's arm. "You're doing a good thing."

He met her gaze, his expression softening. "Just trying to make sure everyone has a good Christmas."

She nodded. "And we appreciate it."

The doorbell rang, surprising them all.

"Expecting someone?" Taehyung asked.

Y/N shook her head. "No."

Namjoon went to answer it, and moments later, he called back, "Hey, Y/N, it's Mrs. Lee!"

Y/N exchanged a curious glance with Taehyung before heading to the door.

Ji-woo stood on the porch, a tentative smile on her face. "Hi, sorry to drop by unannounced."

"Not at all," Y/N replied warmly. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "I just wanted to thank you all. Namjoon mentioned you were looking into the HOA situation."

"Of course," Y/N said. "We're happy to help."

Ji-woo hesitated. "Also, I was wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner tomorrow night. Just a small get-together. My brother's in town, and it'd be nice to get to know the neighbors."

Y/N felt that flutter in her chest again. "We'd love to."

"Great," Ji-woo said, her smile growing. "I'll see you then."

As she walked back across the street, Y/N closed the door, leaning against it for a moment.

"Well?" Taehyung prompted.

"We're invited to dinner tomorrow," she said, trying to sound casual.

"Awesome," he said, already heading back to the couch. "Free food."

Namjoon gave her a knowing look. "Sounds like an opportunity."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Maybe."

"Just don't forget to breathe if you meet your football hero," he teased.

"I'll manage," she retorted.

And as she glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of lights starting to twinkle across the street, she allowed herself to hope.

Hoseok glanced in the rearview mirror of his SUV, catching sight of Maxwell practically vibrating in his car seat. The little guy was a live wire, eyes wide and sparkling like he'd just discovered superheroes were real—and they all wanted to be his best friend.

"Guessing those cookies were rocket fuel," Hoseok chuckled. "Pretty sure bedtime's canceled tonight."

"You're really coming with us to see Santa?" Maxwell asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and a dash of hero worship. It was as if Hoseok had just announced they were flying to the North Pole.

"Wouldn't miss it," Hoseok replied, winking. "Gotta make sure Santa knows what's on my list, too."

"Yes!" Maxwell cheered, pumping his tiny fist in the air. Next to him, Arabella hugged her stuffed penguin a little tighter, her eyes dreamy. "Santa..." she whispered, like the name itself was magic.

Beside him, Ji-woo seemed lighter than she'd been in weeks, a soft smile playing on her lips as she adjusted Arabella's hat. The tension from the HOA drama had eased, at least for tonight.

They drove through streets awash in Christmas lights, the colors reflecting off the windows like a kaleidoscope. When they reached the town square, it was as if they'd stepped into a snow globe. Strings of lights crisscrossed above, a giant tree stood proudly in the center, and the air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and hope.

"Look at all the lights!" Maxwell exclaimed, pressing his nose against the glass. He was out of his seat the moment the car stopped, dragging Arabella toward the promise of candy canes and reindeer.

Hoseok spotted Namjoon across the way, deep in conversation with a guy who looked like he could bench-press a car. The man's gaze lingered a little too long on Ji-woo, and Hoseok felt a protective twinge.

"Glad you all made it," Namjoon called out, his smile warm enough to melt the snow. "Santa's about to arrive. You don't want to miss it."

Maxwell and Arabella needed no further encouragement—they darted off, laughter trailing behind them like footprints.

Namjoon turned to Ji-woo, his expression shifting to something more serious. "We're still waiting to hear from Jungkook about the HOA situation. Don't worry, we're on it."

The big guy next to him nodded. "We'll make sure your kids get their Christmas back," he said earnestly.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, catching the familiar glint of recognition—and maybe a hint of rivalry—in the man's eyes. He offered a polite smile, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Before any awkwardness could settle in, the jingle of bells filled the air. Santa had arrived, not in a sleigh but in a decked-out pickup truck that somehow felt perfectly fitting. The crowd buzzed with excitement, kids bouncing on their toes.

Leading the procession was an elf with a bounce in her step and... Hoseok did a double take. Was her skirt tucked into her tights? He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized he recognized that particular shade of embarrassment.

That was jogger girl.

She was mortified, her face the color of holly berries as Namjoon discreetly fixed her skirt. She shot him a grateful, exasperated look. "Thanks, Joon," she mumbled.

"You're killing me, kid," he replied, shaking his head but smiling fondly.

Their eyes met for just a second—just long enough for Hoseok to catch that flicker of recognition, and maybe a bit of horror, in Y/N’s expression. He offered a small, sympathetic smile, the kind that says, It’s fine. We all have moments like this.

Pushing past whatever had unsettled her, Y/N fixed her elf hat and raised her voice, unwavering and bright, “Who’s ready to see Santa?”

A chorus of kids shouted back, “We are!” and just like that, everything felt easier. Arabella, looking serious and determined, walked straight up to Santa and climbed onto his lap without waiting for a nod or a smile. Santa seemed surprised but took it in stride.

“Well, hello there,” he said, steadying her. “What’s your name?”

“Arabella.” She paused, as if making sure he was paying attention. “I want our lights back.”

He blinked. “Your lights?”

“Our Christmas lights,” she explained. “The colorful ones that make our house happy.”

Hoseok felt a tightening in his chest. Arabella always got right to the point. No dancing around what mattered most.

Y/N stepped forward, her voice gentle, “Maybe Santa can help,” she suggested, meeting Hoseok’s eyes for a moment before turning back to Santa.

“Maybe I can,” Santa agreed, handing Arabella a small gift. She took it solemnly, thanked him, and slid off his lap. “Don’t forget,” she reminded him quietly as she walked back.

Ji-woo knelt down to Arabella’s level. “Do you want to open it now?” she asked.

Arabella shook her head firmly. “Max,” she said, making it clear she’d wait for her brother.

“Max, get over here!” Hoseok called, spotting Maxwell still chatting away with Santa, rattling off a mile-long wish list. Max finally darted over, breathless and grinning, and tore into his own present: a Lego police helicopter set. His eyes went huge, and he practically vibrated with excitement, already planning how he’d build it the second they got home.

Arabella, satisfied that her brother was taken care of, carefully unwrapped her gift. Inside was a plush Rudolph with a glowing red nose. Her serious expression softened. She held it up for them to see, then patted the ground beside her. “Read,” she insisted.

Hoseok didn’t hesitate. He sat right down on the cold pavement and took the little storybook that came with Rudolph. His voice was low and comforting as he read aloud. Everyone around them seemed to settle, leaning in, as if drawn by the warm circle of sound he created. Y/N found herself smiling. There he was, Hoseok—star athlete, local hero—sitting cross-legged in the town square, reading Christmas stories to a little girl who trusted him completely.

Arabella climbed into his lap without a second thought. He adjusted the book, making sure she stayed cozy. This wasn’t some perfect holiday postcard scene; it was just… real. Hoseok had a soft spot for his family. Watching him like this made Y/N’s heart ache in a sweet, unexpected way.

Namjoon, standing beside her, watched too. Pride and tenderness shone through his normally reserved gaze. He might look like the kind of guy who’d keep you at arm’s length, but around family, he melted. Y/N nudged him with her elbow, smiling. “If you keep staring, you’ll turn into a puddle.”

Namjoon chuckled quietly. “Can you blame me? That’s some top-tier uncle behavior.”

Y/N laughed. “You should be taking notes.”

“I am,” he said, straight-faced, which made her laugh again.

Meanwhile, Santa—Seth, actually—wandered off, muttering something about needing an ice pack, looking as if he’d just run a marathon instead of meeting kids all day. Y/N shook her head, amused, and headed back toward Namjoon and Ji-woo.

Namjoon kept half an eye out for Taehyung, who’d disappeared earlier. Taehyung had been trying to reach Jungkook about the HOA mess and the banned Christmas lights. Just then, Taehyung returned, looking both frustrated and determined.

“B’s livid,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “She’s got a lawyer looking into the HOA’s charter.”

Ji-woo sighed, glancing over at Arabella curled up with Hoseok. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Taehyung leaned in, lowering his voice. “Apparently the ban on colored lights was voted in by the homeowners after the fact. But if it was voted in, it can be voted out too.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Five bucks says Tiff and Rachel orchestrated the whole thing. They never let anyone just live their lives without making it about their rules.”

Namjoon’s mouth twitched, annoyed. “If those two are involved, there’s no shortage of shady behavior.”

Around them, the square glowed with holiday lights, kids played with new toys, and Hoseok’s voice continued steady and clear, reading to Arabella. It all felt unexpectedly warm and meaningful. If they had to go head-to-head with a cranky HOA to keep this feeling, so be it.

Hoseok’s voice carried over to them, calm and thoughtful. “If it was voted in, it can be voted out, right?” he asked, looking at Taehyung. Arabella’s head rested trustingly against him, her Rudolph still glowing.

Taehyung sighed. “Yeah, but it requires seventy-five percent approval. And we don’t have voting rights. We never got around to joining the HOA officially, and even if we did now, we wouldn’t be able to vote until next year.”

Y/N frowned. “Why didn’t I know about these votes? I never saw a single notice.”

Taehyung shrugged. “We bought early on. The HOA was still forming. And we don’t use their services—we handle our own lawn care—so we don’t get their updates. The other houses get lawn care and newsletters. We’re sort of on the outside.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Not everyone has the time to peek through blinds and track the neighbors’ every move, Tae.”

Namjoon cut in gently, “Play nice,” his voice carrying that quiet authority that ended squabbles before they started.

Taehyung cleared his throat. “Anyway, we don’t have standing to vote right now.”

Hoseok leaned back, thinking it through, his brow furrowing. “If we’re not part of it, are we even bound by their rules?” he asked.

Taehyung hesitated. “Technically, no. But I’m in a tricky position. Jungkook’s my friend and my boss. I’m supposed to follow the spirit of the rules, set a good example.”

Y/N noticed the determined light in Hoseok’s eyes. He’d just had an idea—that look said as much. And once Hoseok had a plan, he didn’t give up easily.

He straightened up carefully, making sure not to jostle Arabella as she slept against him, and then locked eyes with Taehyung. “I get it—you want to set a good example. But just hear me out. I think I’ve got an idea.”

Taehyung stiffened, like he already knew where this was going. “Hoseok, if this is about—”

“Let him talk,” Y/N said, her voice gentle but steady. “There’s no harm in listening.”

Taehyung exchanged a quick, resigned glance with Y/N—then with Ji-woo—and finally let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll listen. No promises, though.”

Ji-woo gave Taehyung’s arm a light squeeze, an encouraging smile softening the tension. “Thanks. Sometimes his ideas are… a lot. But you never know, this one might actually be good.”

A small group of neighbors had drifted closer, curious eyes and quiet whispers surrounding them. Hoseok stood there, holding his niece like it was the most natural thing in the world, radiating a calm confidence that felt comforting, even to Y/N. He seemed so at home right here, right now, as if he’d been part of their crowd from the very start.

Hoseok glanced over at Maxwell, who was practically sleepwalking on his feet. “Maybe we should get these two home?” he suggested to Ji-woo, tilting his head toward the sleepy kids.

Ji-woo nodded right away, ushering them forward. “Yes. Let’s move this party back home.”

As they headed down the street, Hoseok shot Y/N a quick wink. It was casual, but it lit a tiny spark in the cold air. Taehyung noticed, of course, and let out a barely contained huff.

“That wink,” he grumbled, as if it might be the first domino in a chain of questionable decisions. Y/N could see that something about Hoseok got under Taehyung’s skin in a way he wouldn’t admit. She bumped his shoulder lightly.

“Relax, Tae,” she teased. “It’s just a wink.”

But Taehyung’s brow stayed knitted. “We’ll see,” he muttered.

Back in Ji-woo’s living room, the mood was tense despite the cozy lamps and the warm hum of the fireplace. Namjoon stood firmly in Hoseok’s corner, championing every idea Hoseok tossed out—like challenging the HOA or rallying the neighbors for a vote. Taehyung tried to get a word in, but every time he did, Namjoon countered with all the reasons they had to fight. He even suggested calling Jimin, their cousin who was the town sheriff, if things turned messy. It was a whole parade of big personalities with strong opinions, and Taehyung looked ready to pop.

Sitting curled up in her favorite armchair, Y/N decided it was time to mediate. “Joon, we hear you,” she said, leveling her gaze at him before looking at Taehyung. “But let’s give Taehyung some space to explain his side. And what if we ask Jungkook and Blair to weigh in too? If they back this plan, maybe Taehyung will feel better.”

Taehyung’s relief was almost tangible. “Yes—please. Call Jungkook and Blair. If we get them on board, I can at least know we’re not going rogue.”

He shot Hoseok an apologetic look. “I know you’ve got to get back to Denver soon,” he said, trying to sound casual but clearly feeling guilty. “I don’t want to mess with your playoff prep. I get that the kids should have a great Christmas. I just need you to understand my side.”

Y/N snorted, unable to resist teasing him a bit. “Tae, you’re sounding so diplomatic I’m waiting for Mr. Berty from fourth grade to show up and give you a gold star.” When Taehyung subtly flipped her the bird, she stifled a giggle.

Sighing dramatically, Taehyung relented. “Okay, fine. I’ll call Jungkook. Blair’s usually the easier sell, anyway.”

Namjoon nodded briskly, making a hurry-up motion. “Don’t just stand there. Make the call.”

Taehyung eyed the clock. “It’s after nine, bro. Isn’t this late?”

Namjoon smirked. “Jungkook doesn’t sleep before midnight, and Blair’s like a wind-up toy that never stops. They’ll pick up.”

With a low groan, Taehyung disappeared into the kitchen, phone already ringing. His muttering faded into the next room.

With him gone, Y/N decided it was time to shift gears. “The kids had such a blast tonight,” she said softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Arabella’s practically welded to that Rudolph, and Max… I mean, good luck getting him to think about anything besides that helicopter set now.”

Ji-woo’s expression warmed. “I’m just glad they had fun. Poor Santa Seth, though. He looked wiped out.”

Namjoon laughed. “Don’t worry about Seth. Beth’s probably got him on a steady regimen of ice packs and hot chocolate. That man’s taken bigger hits. Kids can be ruthless.”

Hoseok chimed in, his tone curious. “I saw there was a food drive. Is there a big need around here?”

Namjoon’s easygoing demeanor faded slightly as he explained. “It’s better now than a few years ago, but this place took a hit. The mill closed down some lines, people lost jobs. Recovery’s slow. Especially this time of year.”

Y/N nodded, voice quieter. “Lots of families are on the edge. You’d be surprised how many work full-time but still can’t get by. I’ve volunteered at the food bank. People slip through the cracks.”

Hoseok’s brow creased thoughtfully. “That’s awful. Every place I’ve played, I try to give back. My old coach used to say, ‘They show up for us, we show up for them.’ It stuck with me.”

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “Your coach sounds like a good person.”

Hoseok grinned. “One of the best. He’d ream me out after a bad game, but he never missed a chance to remind me what really mattered.”

Ji-woo laughed. “When he got drafted, I’m not sure who cried more—Coach or Dad.”

Just then, Taehyung reappeared. He looked relieved—less tense around the eyes. “Blair says they’ll be here tomorrow after five. Her dad’s visiting—first holiday without her mom—so they’re hosting him, but they’ll swing by.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “Walter Reid’s a big name. When he weighs in, people listen.”

Y/N leaned over, giving Taehyung a quick side hug, feeling the unspoken weight he’d been carrying. “You’ve done everything you can.”

Namjoon nodded approvingly. “You did good, Tae.”

Ji-woo and Hoseok nodded too, their quiet solidarity reassuring him. And Taehyung, for the first time that night, allowed himself a long, steady breath and a small, hopeful smile. Maybe this Christmas would turn out all right after all.

The next evening, Jungkook and Blair Jeon showed up, each of them so strikingly different that Y/N’s head spun a little just looking at them. Jungkook was tall, solid as a cedar, with neatly combed black hair and eyes so warm and steady they felt like a campfire you could settle around for hours. He was the kind of person who didn’t waste words—he only spoke when it counted, and when he did, everyone leaned in.

Blair, meanwhile, was all sparks and fizz—blonde curls that bounced with every step, bright blue eyes that darted around the room, making sure she never missed a thing. She didn’t have to say a word to shift the energy; her presence alone brightened corners that had been dull five seconds ago. Even with their differences, it was clear they both cared fiercely, like they shared a quiet agreement: kindness first, always.

And then there was Walter Reid, Blair’s father, who seemed to take up more space than he actually occupied. He was tall and broad, his silver hair perfect, his face etched with lines that said he’d lived through more than anyone else in the room. He didn’t bother with unnecessary smiles. He didn’t need them—his eyes said he could see right through every half-truth and polite lie.

As Y/N explained the plan to bring back the Christmas lights that the HOA had so rudely snuffed out, Walter watched silently, his gaze like a judge’s final verdict waiting to be delivered. Ji-woo flipped through old photos, spreading them like evidence on a coffee table: once upon a time, this neighborhood had shimmered in December. Now, thanks to a few power-hungry board members, it looked like Christmas had decided to skip town.

Blair was practically hopping with frustration. “I’m telling you, Tiffany and Rachel are behind this,” she said, jabbing a photo as if it might give in and confess. Y/N nodded, unsurprised. Tiffany Wallace and Rachel McDonald were the type who wanted things their way and never bothered to pretend otherwise.

Hoseok stood beside Y/N, noticing—despite his best efforts—how good she looked in that cozy sweater and jeans. He tried to refocus, to catch up on whatever Walter and Blair were discussing. But it was hard when Y/N looked so at ease here, like this room and these people and these problems were all part of some soft tapestry he’d just been invited into.

“Babygirl, let me see those charter amendments,” Walter said to Blair, voice low and gravelly. Blair handed over the papers, still scowling. Walter’s eyes skimmed the text. “Recent changes,” he murmured. “Voted in by a slim majority. That means it wouldn’t take much to push them back out.”

Jungkook leaned in, nodding. “We just need the neighbors on board. Half of them probably don’t even know the rules changed. If we show them what’s going on, we could turn this thing around.”

Blair’s mood shifted from fury to determination in a flash. “Then that’s what we do,” she said, clapping her hands. “We bring them all in. We light the match.”

Y/N smiled, relieved. “We’ll organize a meeting. Show them they have a choice. People want Christmas back—they just need to believe they can have it.”

Hoseok grinned too, leaning forward, his voice warm. “I can help. I mean, I’ve got a few fans who might show up if it means Christmas lights and a selfie or two.”

Y/N glanced his way, heart feeling unexpectedly full. He wanted to be part of this, part of her world. It was a small thing—just lights, really—but something about the way he jumped right in touched her.

Walter eyed them all, unmoved, as if still deciding if this fight was worth the trouble. “What’s this got to do with me?” he asked flatly.

“Daddy, it’s not right,” Blair repeated, for maybe the hundredth time that night, each time with the exact same fierce conviction.

Jungkook rested a calming hand on her shoulder. “Let your dad take a look, Blair. We need his advice.”

Blair huffed, but she let Walter read. He turned pages with the careful patience of a man who’d picked apart trickier contracts in his time. When he finally spoke, his words were measured: “If you go public, you might draw attention you don’t want. The media could twist this. Make the HOA look like victims. Could complicate other projects in the pipeline.”

Blair looked ready to explode. “Who would side with the HOA?” she demanded, incredulous.

Walter’s gaze shifted to Hoseok, and this time his tone was almost fatherly. “You’re not just any guy off the street, kid. You’re a Seahawk. Your team’s PR isn’t going to love seeing you in a local tug-of-war.”

Hoseok grimaced, realizing Walter had a point. “I’ll check with them,” he said, sounding reluctant.

A tense hush settled over the room until Namjoon stepped out quietly. When he returned, he had Arabella in his arms, half-asleep and clinging to Rudolph. Y/N shot him a questioning look, but Namjoon just smiled and walked over to Walter.

“This is Ari,” he said softly. “Ari, meet Mr. Reid.”

Arabella blinked, clutching her Rudolph and peering at Walter with big, curious eyes. She gave him a tiny wave, all quiet courage and bedtime drowsiness.

Namjoon set her down next to the photos. Arabella, so serious for someone so small, pointed at the pictures. “Lights,” she said firmly, “Santa. Fix. Please.”

You could almost see Walter’s armor crack. He let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his silver hair. “Oh hell. Fine. Just keep it low-key, all right?”

Namjoon’s grin could have lit up a stadium. “Thank you,” he said, clapping Walter on the shoulder. Walter rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement there. “I knew you wouldn’t say no,” Namjoon teased lightly. “Marine training teaches you how to get results.”

Arabella squealed, hugging Namjoon’s leg. Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Maybe things were still complicated, and maybe they’d have to tread carefully. But at least they had a green light. At least they weren’t alone.

Hoseok’s eyes found Y/N again. He liked the way her smile looked in the soft lamplight. Liked that he was seeing her not just as some passing figure in his off-season life, but as someone he wanted to know more deeply. There was a story beginning here—one that he hoped they’d have time to tell.

Later that night, Y/N stood on her front lawn, arms folded over her coat, taking it all in. The new decorations weren’t over-the-top, but they were just enough. An eight-foot inflatable Santa beamed merrily at the snow, and multicolored lights wound around the porch and windows like cheerful ribbons. The whole place glowed. Across the street, Arabella pressed her hands and nose against the window, eyes gone huge with delight. Y/N smiled, feeling a tiny spark inside her chest—this was Christmas at its best, all bright colors and gentle wonder, nothing more complicated than a kid’s joy.

Walter had already taken off back to Denver, warning Y/N to brace for any fallout. But Y/N wasn’t worried. She knew how small towns worked: people loved their drama soft and manageable, like a soap opera they could switch off after dinner. Tiffany and Rachel would probably have plenty to say, but real consequences? She doubted it. If anything, it would all just turn into good old-fashioned grocery aisle gossip.

Inside, she could hear laughter drifting in from the living room. By the time she slipped back in, Blair had commandeered the couch—three glasses of wine deep—and was grinning at the ceiling like it had just told her the best joke in the world. Y/N had barely shut the door when Blair’s voice floated through the room, slurred and enthusiastic:

“He’s hot. You should totally tap that.”

Y/N stumbled, wide-eyed, nearly dropping her keys. “I’m sorry, what now?”

Blair rolled her head toward Y/N, eyes sparkling with a wine-soaked confidence. “Hoseok Jung!” she repeated, waving a hand dramatically. “Girl, hop on that train. Enjoy the ride.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flare with heat. Blair’s bluntness wasn’t new, but this was... a lot. “Blair,” she sputtered, trying for stern and failing. “He’s leaving tomorrow. He’s got a life in Denver, and I have classes. It’s not exactly a meet-cute that’s going to last, okay?”

“Ugh, whatever,” Blair said, swiping the air dismissively. “You can teach and have a life. And if he’s half as good in bed as he is on the field, you’re basically signing up for fireworks.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. She glanced around as if the furniture might be judging her. “Blair!” she hissed, but a laugh slipped out despite her best efforts.

Blair smirked, taking another sip of her “truth juice.” “Oh, come on. After that jerk Garrett took off with Kate, don’t you think you deserve a little... holiday cheer? I’m not suggesting you run away and elope, just... sample the goods. I saw the way Hoseok looked at you.”

Y/N snatched at Blair’s wineglass, but Blair evaded with surprising agility for someone so tipsy. “I think you’ve had enough,” Y/N said, breathlessly, cheeks still warm.

Blair raised a brow, wiggling it like some kind of cartoon villain. “Don’t try to silence me. You know I’m right. You’ve been Miss Responsible for way too long. Let your hair down. Have fun. Specifically, have fun with a hot football player who’s clearly into you.”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh, reaching again for the glass. This time Blair conceded with a playful sigh, handing it over. “Fine, fine,” Blair said, leaning back like a starlet. “But remember my words when you’re old and gray: truth flows from the grapes.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, still smiling as she set the wine on the counter. But just as quickly as she dismissed Blair’s teasing, Hoseok’s face floated into her mind. She could picture him so clearly—his easy grin, the way he’d settled on the floor to read to Arabella, how natural he’d looked in this little world that wasn’t his. And, okay, yes... that spark in his eyes when he’d looked her way.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to talk herself down. He was leaving tomorrow. Their lives were galaxies apart. He was... famous, for crying out loud. And she was a teacher with a comfortable, ordinary life. It’s just a silly crush, she told herself. A harmless holiday daydream.

From the couch, Blair’s voice drifted lazily: “I saw that look! You’re into him.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, flicking off the kitchen light and grabbing a blanket. She returned to the living room and draped it over Blair’s shoulders. “Go to sleep, B,” she said softly.

Blair’s eyes fluttered half-closed, a grin still tugging at her lips. Y/N watched her friend settle into a dozy contentment. The room fell quiet, the only sounds a distant car on a snowy street and the soft hum of the heater. For a moment, it felt like the whole house was holding its breath.

Y/N sank onto the edge of the recliner, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. She tried to imagine what tomorrow would feel like. Hoseok would head back to Denver, back to his team, his life. She’d keep teaching, keep living in this small town full of neighborly squabbles and cozy holiday traditions. Was there a chance something could cross the space between them?

Probably not. But it sure was nice to think about—even if only for tonight. It made her feel warm, a little bit braver, and just maybe, a tiny bit closer to the kind of magic that made ordinary people do extraordinary things.

Hoseok couldn’t get Y/N out of his head. It was like his mind had just grabbed onto the memory of her laugh and refused to let go. The way her grin tilted when she teased her brother, that quick, light-in-her-eyes smile—it all played on a loop behind his eyelids whenever he blinked. Plus, the way she moved, so confident and at ease, made him feel like some eager understudy watching a lead he was dying to impress.

And now, there she was, standing in her front yard, facing down two furious blondes as if they were yapping dachshunds trying to nip at her ankles. He could practically see the invisible line she’d drawn—You shall not pass!—and it made him grin. She looked fierce and steady, even as Blair, three glasses of wine in, half-waltzed, half-wobbled behind her, sloshing red liquid in dangerous arcs.

Inside, Ji-woo hovered near the window, hand poised over the curtain like she wanted to intervene but wasn’t sure if she should. Hoseok got it. Ji-woo had seen enough drama in her life, and from what he understood, some scars still felt fresh. She wasn’t big on conflict, not anymore.

“I’ll go,” Hoseok said, shrugging into his jacket. He could feel Ji-woo’s relief before she even answered. He’d offered partly to help Y/N, partly because he was, let’s face it, pretty smitten, and partly because he just hated seeing Y/N out there alone, dealing with what looked suspiciously like Mean Girls: Christmas Edition.

“Are you sure?” Ji-woo asked, voice low. She bit her lip, glancing out at the scene.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said simply. “I kind of got them into this. The least I can do is back them up.”

He stepped into the chilly night and caught the tail end of the blondes’ complaints. One waved a piece of paper at Y/N, like it was a holy writ and not just a crumpled memo. Blair was still in the background, humming something off-key and offering her wine bottle to an inflatable Santa.

Y/N sighed, exasperated. “Blair, maybe it’s time to go inside.”

Before Blair could respond, she spotted Hoseok like he was the second coming of Christmas. “There he is!” she crowed, pointing. “Hoseok Jung, Y/N! You gotta tap that ass, girl!”

Hoseok nearly choked on a laugh, managing to keep a straight face with heroic effort. He plastered on his best “professional athlete” smile—confident, friendly, utterly unbothered by chaos—and stepped beside Y/N. “Evening, ladies,” he said, voice low and calm. “Is there a problem here?”

The shorter blonde’s eyes went cartoon-wide. “Oh my god, you’re Hoseok Jung!” she squealed, as if she’d just met a unicorn holding a stack of Super Bowl tickets. The other blonde—taller, more scowly—floundered for a moment, caught between annoyance and fangirl bewilderment.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets like it was no big deal. He nodded toward the decorations, the twinkling lights that had caused all this fuss. “My sister lives across the street. Y/N and her friends put these up for her kids. It’s Christmas—just trying to bring a little cheer.”

The taller blonde, Rae, tried to hold onto her scowl but ended up somewhere between a grimace and a pained smile. “They still break HOA rules,” she grumbled, but her tone had lost its teeth.

Hoseok tilted his head, the very picture of reasonable concern. “Y/N doesn’t belong to the HOA, though, right?” he said mildly. “Seems like a misunderstanding. Maybe you could schedule a meeting? I’m heading back to Denver, but Monday’s my day off. I’d be happy to join a neighborhood discussion. Clear the air.”

The blondes exchanged a look that said: We just got invited to a party with a celebrity. Rae cleared her throat. “Monday at seven might work,” she conceded.

“Perfect,” Hoseok said, with a smile so genuine it could’ve warmed a glacier. The shorter blonde sighed dreamily. Rae just nodded, all her bravado melted like butter on hot toast.

Behind them, Blair muttered something triumphant—something involving “bitches” and “booyah”—then promptly leaned against Santa, trying to give him a taste of her wine.

When the blondes drifted off, possibly to brag about their Monday meeting with Hoseok Jung, he turned to Y/N. “Need a hand with Blair?” he asked, already moving to steady her.

Y/N gave him a grateful, lopsided smile. “Please. She’s on a roll tonight.”

Hoseok scooped Blair up like a rowdy toddler and carried her toward the house, Blair giggling and whispering nonsense about quarterbacks and “naughty Santa” in his ear. The whole scene felt like a snapshot from a cozy indie movie—Christmas lights glowing soft around them, warm laughter inside, and Y/N at his side, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Once inside, he deposited Blair gently on the couch. Y/N straightened a bit, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks,” she said softly, arms folding across her chest. “She’s great, but... a handful when she’s had too much wine.”

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve seen worse tailgate parties,” he teased. “She’s entertaining.”

Y/N watched her friend burrow into the couch cushions, still clutching the wine bottle as if it were a cherished teddy bear, then turned back to him. Her expression had changed—softened, relaxed. “I guess I owe you one,” she said.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, grinning. “I think we’re even. But I’ll keep the ‘tap my ass’ suggestion on the table,” he added, voice low and playful.

Y/N flushed pink and let out a scandalized laugh. “I can’t believe she said that,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hand for a second.

He shrugged, eyes never leaving hers. “She’s not entirely wrong,” he said, pretending to examine the lights on the wall. “I am pretty tappable, from what I hear.”

She rolled her eyes, giving his arm a gentle, playful shove. “You’re trouble, Jung.”

“Good trouble,” he countered, quiet and sure, something warm slipping into his tone.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to vanish. It was just the two of them in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, Blair’s faint snores in the background, and the distant hum of small-town life wrapping around them like a cozy scarf. Maybe he’d be back in Denver soon, and maybe they lived in different spheres. But right now, Y/N was right here in front of him, and he was more than happy to be a little trouble in her world.

With Blair sound asleep and softly snoring, Y/N suddenly realized something crucial: she was alone with Hoseok. The very Hoseok who’d heard Blair, in her infinite drunken wisdom, tell her to “tap that ass.” Fantastic. Just the scenario you dream of, right?

The air felt charged, like the hush after a good joke and right before everyone breaks into laughter. Y/N tried to find her footing in what always comforted her—simple hospitality. “Want something to drink?” she blurted, her voice coming out way too eager, like she was offering a lifeboat instead of a beverage.

Hoseok smiled, and there was just a hint of mischief in it. “Beer?” he suggested, eyebrows raised like he was testing her.

“Beer. Right. Coming up,” she said, grateful for something to do besides melt on the spot. She practically darted into the kitchen. “Is Corona okay?” she called, relieved to be behind the open fridge door, where he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

“Got a lime?” he asked, voice smooth enough to make her heart skip twice.

“Yeah, from taco night,” she said, rummaging around. “Taehyung’s obsessed with the whole lime-and-Corona thing. I think it makes him feel like he’s on some tropical beach, instead of here where the big excitement is a holiday HOA debate.” She rolled her eyes at herself, then handed him the bottle and wedge of lime.

“Nothing wrong with pretending,” Hoseok said, leaning against the counter. His gaze followed her movements so closely that she almost felt like a painting he was admiring. “So… you and Taehyung—twins?”

Y/N laughed as she twisted open her own soda. “Not quite. We’re a year apart. People at school called us the ‘Kim twins’ anyway. He’s tall and broad, and I’m built like my halmeoni. Still, I grew up hearing, ‘Oh, you must be Taehyung’s sister!’ which was my personal favorite.”

Hoseok smiled, something soft and understanding there. “My family’s scattered everywhere. Mom and Dad are in England right now, visiting my uncle. I’m grateful we all stay connected, even if it’s at weird distances.”

Y/N couldn’t help a grin. “Did you pack tights for the trip?” she teased, recalling something about England and stadium traditions—though maybe that was rugby.

He snorted, eyes crinkling. “The closest I have are my uniform pants. Not quite the same look.”

Uniform pants. Y/N’s thoughts took a brief, traitorous journey to how Hoseok probably looked in those uniform pants, and she nearly choked on her soda. Perfect timing, Blair mumbled something incomprehensible from the couch, followed by a muttered “Biotch,” and Hoseok burst into laughter so warm it filled the entire kitchen.

Y/N shook her head, fond but exasperated. “This is mild for her. Last time she hit the tequila, we found her on the roof trying to talk the moon down for a midnight chat. She was, um… not clothed.”

Hoseok’s laughter turned breathless, forcing him to set down his beer. “You’re kidding.”

Y/N held up her hands. “Swear. We got her down eventually, but not before she tried to sing a love ballad to a very startled raccoon.”

They both laughed, but then the mood shifted slightly as Y/N’s smile took on a sympathetic tilt. “This year’s been tough for her. First Christmas without her mom, plus they’re trying to start a family. I think it all just hit her tonight.”

Hoseok’s expression turned gentle, the understanding deepening. “Life sneaks up on you sometimes.”

A soft hush settled between them, a moment that felt more meaningful than anything they’d said. The twinkling Christmas lights in the other room cast a friendly glow, and Y/N wondered if this was how new memories formed—quietly, unexpectedly, in small-town kitchens while someone snored on the couch.

She cleared her throat, feeling the moment tiptoe toward something more intense. “Another beer?” she offered, holding the fridge door open like a shield.

Hoseok shook his head. “One’s enough. I try not to drink too much during the season. Gotta keep my focus.”

“Right, football and all,” Y/N said, stepping back and finding him suddenly closer—so close, in fact, that the scent of him was all warm fabric and subtle cologne. She almost squeaked in surprise but managed to keep it together.

Her breath caught as their eyes met, and suddenly he was there, right there, tilting his head so their faces nearly touched. If she’d wanted to move back, she couldn’t have—she was drawn in, completely, like gravity had decided this exact moment was too perfect to resist.

Then he kissed her. A soft, searching kiss that felt like a secret spoken aloud for the first time. She melted into it, her hands curving over his chest, feeling the heat of him through his sweater. His arms found her waist, and the gentle tension between them turned into something bright and urgent. She barely registered when he lifted her onto the counter, their breaths mingling, his kisses trailing softly down her neck, sending electric sparks skittering beneath her skin.

It was quiet and magical and everything she never knew she wanted at that exact second—until the clomping sound of boots in the hallway snapped her back to reality.

“Hey, Y/N, we got any food?” Taehyung’s voice drifted in, casual and clueless, like a bowling ball striking pins of romantic tension.

They pulled apart as if someone had flipped a switch. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, and Hoseok’s eyes were still dark and a little dazed. They stared at each other, caught in the aftermath of a perfect, impossible moment.

Taehyung’s footsteps got louder, heading their way. Y/N’s heart sank and soared at the same time. She shot Hoseok a look that said, We are so busted, and tried to smooth her hair, tried to pretend she wasn’t just thoroughly kissing a very famous, very attractive quarterback on her kitchen counter.

As Taehyung popped into view, Y/N forced a bright, shaky smile. But inside, a thousand thoughts danced and collided: He’s leaving soon, we barely know each other, what just happened, what does this mean, oh god oh god oh god.

She met Hoseok’s gaze one more time, and there was that spark again, a promise unspoken. Y/N swallowed hard, knowing her heart might never be the same.

After the kiss—that one kiss that had nearly knocked the air right out of Hoseok’s lungs—it was all he could think about. The memory of Y/N’s lips on his, the way she fit so perfectly against him, how the world had narrowed down to just the two of them… It was like stepping into a lightning storm and being thrilled instead of terrified. Now he was back in Denver, and it felt unreal. Had it been a dream? The more he replayed it, the more he wondered if she was slipping from tangible reality into wistful memory.

He hadn’t seen her since. Not once. He hadn’t even gotten her number—who did that in this day and age? It wasn’t until Monday, as he was sitting behind the wheel, driving back into the heart of Salida, that he realized how much was still unsaid. He’d told himself the HOA meeting was what drew him back, but deep down he knew better. He was here because of her, because he needed to know if that kiss had spun her world off its axis the way it had spun his.

Pulling into Ji-woo’s driveway, he couldn’t help but look straight across the street at the Kims’ house. Twinkling lights decorated the front yard in a way that seemed to laugh at the stuffy HOA rules. Arabella spotted him from the porch and let out a squeal that lit up her entire face—her delight so real and honest it warmed him from the inside out. Family was why he’d returned; he reminded himself of that. But even as he swept Arabella into a bear hug, laughing as she pointed excitedly at the lights, his mind drifted to another face entirely.

Ji-woo caught his eye, smirking just a little, like she knew exactly what was going on in that head of his. “She’s been waiting for you,” she said, voice light, but her tone held a deeper note—an understanding, maybe even approval.

Arabella waved at the lights, riled up with holiday glee. “Uncle Hobi, lights!” she insisted, as if he hadn’t noticed them glowing in the twilight.

“That’s right, kiddo,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I’m gonna do my best to make sure they stay right where they are.” Arabella’s grin was like a stamp of approval all on its own. Still, his mind kept wandering, drifting across the street, wondering if Y/N was inside right now, maybe looking out the window, remembering their last encounter the way he did.

He tried to ground himself with small talk. “Did you catch the game yesterday?” he asked Arabella, fully aware of her likely answer.

“No ball!” she announced primly, wrinkling her nose like football was the lamest invention ever. Hoseok chuckled and set her down, just in time to see a familiar Kia pulling into the Kims’ driveway.

Y/N stepped out, looking effortlessly put together in grey slacks and a soft pink sweater, a black coat draped over her arm. She moved with a kind of quiet grace that made Hoseok’s heart skip. From the way she carried herself, to the gentle curve of her smile—he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Hey, neighbors!” she called, voice ringing softly through the crisp air. “Ready for tonight?” There was that easy warmth to her tone, the slightest lift at the end like an invitation.

Hoseok tried for nonchalance, even as his pulse fluttered. “Looking forward to it,” he said, hoping he sounded as smooth as he was trying to be.

Her gaze lingered on him a heartbeat longer than necessary. “If you want to come by beforehand, Tae’s making pizza, and I’ve got brownies.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her eyes flicked to him again, and the corner of her mouth curved in a secret smile that set off sparks under his skin.

Arabella squealed, clearly sold at the mere mention of brownies. Ji-woo laughed, holding her back. “I think she likes your idea,” she said, and Y/N answered with a light laugh of her own.

“Come whenever,” Y/N said, still looking at Hoseok. “Unless you have other plans?” There was a playful note in her voice, a gentle challenge. He swallowed, trying to find words, but Ji-woo jumped in first.

“Oh, we’ll be there,” Ji-woo said decisively, shooting him a look that said Don’t even think about backing out, buddy.

Y/N gave a small nod, that small smile still in place, before heading inside. Hoseok watched her go, his mind whirring with a hundred questions, a thousand hopes. He’d barely stepped foot back in town, and already they had dinner plans. He didn’t know what tonight would bring, but he was buzzing with anticipation—like he was on the field, seconds before the play that could change everything.

“Dinner with the Kims, huh?” Ji-woo teased, eyebrows raised, her voice sing-song with suggestion. Maxwell appeared out of nowhere, eyes big. “Did someone say brownies?”

Hoseok ruffled Maxwell’s hair absently. “And pizza,” he said, though he was only half-present. His thoughts were already across the street, trying to parse every smile, every lifted eyebrow Y/N had offered.

Inside the house, he could feel the warmth of family wrapping around him—but tonight, he wanted more than that. He wanted a moment alone with her. He needed to know if that night in the kitchen, their kiss full of promise and possibility, was just a beautiful blip… or the start of something bigger. Tonight, he might just find out.

Inside, Y/N felt like every one of her nerves had decided to start a chorus line on her spine. Holy hell—Hoseok was back in town, and he looked better than any memory could do justice. Her thoughts skittered around that kiss they’d shared once, the kiss that still had the power to make her heart pound whenever it popped into her head. She’d replayed it in her mind more times than she’d care to admit, always wondering if it had knocked him off-balance as much as it had rattled her. And now he was here, standing at her door again. If there was any fairness in the world, they’d get a second take on that unforgettable moment.

But first, there was her brother. Taehyung had a flair for throwing a wrench into her plans. “Tae!” she hollered up the stairs, trying not to sound frantic. “Get down here! Ji-woo, Hoseok, and the kids are on their way, and Joon’s coming, too!”

“Already in the kitchen, sis!” came his voice, and relief swam through her. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a chaos-fest after all.

She found him amid a pizza-making operation so elaborate it could’ve been a culinary art exhibit. Pizza crusts spread out like blank canvases, toppings arranged in tidy rows, Taehyung wielding an olive oil brush as if he were painting a masterpiece. He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a casual shrug.

“I figured the kids could make their own pizzas,” he said, as if it were no big deal. “We can handle a few personal pies at once.”

Y/N stepped closer, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You know, you can be really sweet, Tae,” she teased, going in to pinch his cheek. He dodged with a mock-flex of his bicep.

“And don’t forget good-looking,” he tossed back, striking a ridiculous pose that made her roll her eyes.

“Stop that,” Y/N said, stifling a laugh. “You’ll scare the kids.”

They laughed together, comfortable and teasing, until the doorbell rang. Y/N ran a quick hand through her hair, adjusted her bra strap, tried to look casual. For the kids, sure, but mostly for their uncle. She flicked on the Christmas tree lights and opened the door just in time to see Maxwell rocket inside, followed by Ji-woo wielding a giant salad bowl. And then, Hoseok. He entered with Arabella perched in his arms, the sight of him so effortlessly handsome that Y/N’s breath hitched. Seriously, how did he manage to look even better than the last time?

“Brought salad,” Ji-woo announced, smiling warmly.

“Perfect,” Y/N said, ushering them all in. “We’ll need something green to balance all the carbs.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “Tae’s got a pizza station set up. The kids can go wild.”

Maxwell and Arabella shot off like tiny comets, squealing at the prospect of decorating their own pizzas. Arabella paused only to nod solemnly at Y/N’s Christmas tree, as if granting it royal approval, before joining her brother.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something else—but then she felt a gentle tug on her hand. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Hoseok, standing much closer than expected. His eyes held a warm gleam, and she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice pitched for her ears only.

“Hi,” she managed, just before he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers—a light, quick kiss that somehow still rattled her bones. It was shy and bold all at once, and it made that memory of their first kiss crackle back to life, reminding her just how good they’d been together.

“You never gave me your number,” he teased, dark eyes dancing.

She feigned nonchalance. “You never asked,” she said, a playful lift in her brow.

“I’m asking now,” he grinned, extending his phone.

She typed her number carefully, trying to keep her fingers steady and her face neutral, then handed it back with a smile. “There, now you have it.”

Before Hoseok could respond, two solid knocks rattled the door. Namjoon stepped inside like a man on a mission, still in his captain’s uniform, scanning the room as if expecting to find mischief afoot.

“Kid, you’ve gotta start locking that door,” he scolded, but Y/N just rolled her eyes.

“It’s Salida, Dad. We’re fine.” She motioned everyone toward the kitchen. “Tae’s making pizza, come on.”

Namjoon’s gaze landed on Hoseok. “Good game, son,” he said, giving a respectful nod. “Pizza ready?”

“Tae’s on it,” Y/N answered, slipping away from Hoseok with a quick, secret smile. She noticed Hoseok’s eyes following her—like he was reluctant to let her out of his sight—and her heart stumbled a little.

Namjoon grunted appreciatively. “If architecture doesn’t pan out, that boy could open a pizzeria.”

Y/N snorted. “Sure, because working for one of the biggest developers in the West isn’t enough for him. He needs a pizza empire.”

As if summoned by his new entrepreneurial calling, Taehyung appeared with the kids, all wearing holiday aprons. Maxwell’s had snowmen, Arabella’s had Santas, and Taehyung’s proudly proclaimed ‘Got Mistletoe?’ Hoseok joined them, kneeling down to admire the toppings. The kitchen swelled with laughter and chatter as everyone piled their pizzas high.

Soon, Ji-woo’s salad was making rounds, and they hovered together, waiting for the pizzas to bake. The air smelled like yeast and tomato sauce and spices. Light bounced off shiny ornaments on the Christmas tree just beyond the kitchen doorway. It felt like the set of a warm holiday special, the kind you watched curled up under a blanket.

Jungkook and Blair arrived, drawn by the promise of good food and the evening’s impending drama at the HOA meeting. Blair was especially giddy, eyeing the brownies and pizza like party favors at a carnival. But Hoseok barely noticed them. He was watching Y/N, watching the way she laughed with her family, the way she moved around the kitchen so naturally, as if this place had a gravity all its own, pulling them all closer.

Namjoon snagged a brownie, chewing thoughtfully before turning to Y/N with a mock-serious glare. “I’m gonna need these at the station’s potluck,” he said, lips quirking into a grudging smile. “Yoongi will have my head if I don’t show up with something good.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Magic word?”

Namjoon made a show of pouting. “Pleease, Sissy?” He drew it out until Y/N burst into laughter. The sound rang bright and clear, filling the room with an easy, loving warmth.

Hoseok leaned back in his chair, completely enchanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at home in a place that wasn’t really his home at all. The memory of their brief kiss hummed in his veins, a promise that maybe this moment, this feeling, didn’t have to be temporary. Maybe it could lead somewhere real.

As he sat there, watching Y/N tease her dad, saw Taehyung and Jungkook ganging up on Namjoon with good-humored glee, and caught Arabella’s serious nod of approval for every single topping choice… Hoseok realized something. He wasn’t just attracted to Y/N. He was drawn to the life around her, the family she was part of, the easy, genuine way she cared for the people in her orbit.

She looked back at him then, as if sensing his thoughts, and in that glance was everything: the memory of their kiss, the humor in their banter, and a hint of something else—something hopeful and warm and bright, like a candle flickering to life in the dark.

Hoseok turned as Taehyung nudged him, offering a fresh plate of brownies with a conspiratorial wink. He took one, smiling as he popped it into his mouth. Sure, there was a meeting later and a hundred unresolved questions. But right now, in this laughing, glowing kitchen, Hoseok could believe that he’d found something worth holding on to—and her name was Y/N.

At the HOA meeting that night, Tiffany and Rachel swept in like it was some Saturday night hotspot—clicking heels, sequined dresses catching the fluorescent lights in a way that felt more tragic than glamorous. Blair had to step outside to control her laughter, and when she came back, her shoulders still shook quietly. The rest of them huddled in folding chairs that squeaked when you leaned back too far, trying not to stare too openly at the spectacle.

Tiffany and Rachel took their seats at the front beside old Scott Watts Sr., who looked about eighty and seemed to be only halfway tuned in. His son, Scott Jr., hovered near him, trying not to look mortified.

“Meeting called to order,” Rachel said in a voice that aimed for regal and landed closer to nasal. She shot Y/N a look that implied the Christmas lights issue was basically a personal vendetta. She even angled a sultry glance at Hoseok, but it landed somewhere between a sneer and the face you make when you realize the milk’s gone sour.

From across the room, Y/N caught Blair’s eye, and they exchanged smirks. If nothing else, this evening would make for some hilarious after-party commentary.

“This is about the clear violation of HOA bylaws,” Rachel droned, lifting her chin, “concerning the Kims’ front yard décor.” She delivered the line like it was a grave sin worthy of excommunication.

“I’ll have the tea,” Scott Sr. mumbled, cutting across Rachel’s speech. People turned and looked at each other in confusion, while Tiffany’s eyes rolled so dramatically Y/N half-expected them to pop out.

Tiffany jumped in next, puffing herself up. “As you know,” she said, “we voted two years ago for strict decoration bylaws to preserve the tasteful image of our neighborhood.”

“Tiff?” Deiondre Park raised her hand from the front row, looking perfectly composed.

“We haven’t opened the floor to comments,” Tiffany snapped, like a principal scolding a rowdy class.

“I believe it’s a clarification, not a comment,” cut in Deiondre’s husband, Jimin, in that measured tone only a traffic judge could master. Tiffany flinched—probably recalling the time she’d tried flirting her way out of a ticket and failed spectacularly.

From the back, someone shouted, “Let her speak!” and murmurings of agreement swelled through the room. Hoseok slid his hand over Y/N’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. A quiet sign: We’ve got this.

“Deiondre,” Rachel said with a huge, fake sigh, “go ahead.”

“I just don’t recall a vote,” Deiondre said, voice steady and confident. “Are there notes from that meeting? Because I’ve never seen them. Nor have I heard these rules mentioned before.”

Heads bobbed, a subtle wave of dissent rippling through the crowd.

“Told you it was shady,” Namjoon whispered to Y/N, crossing his arms. He looked like he was ready to slap metaphorical handcuffs on Tiffany and Rachel.

“I remember something about preferring white lights,” Tanya Hartley called from the back. “Rachel said it was standard for Avalanche properties.”

“Yeah,” Ford Fraserns chimed in, leaning forward with a daring gleam in his eyes. “And who put you two in charge, anyway?”

Rachel stiffened, her shoulders pulling back like a cat about to hiss. “We were voted in, along with Mr. Watts,” she said icily, as if that single sentence held all the authority in the world.

“Where’s that tea?” Scott Sr. mumbled again. This time, more people chuckled quietly. One of the old-timers, Adam Wagener, hollered, “Scotty, turn on your hearing aid!” and got a round of suppressed snorts for his trouble.

“What?” Scott shouted, fumbling with his earpiece. “Are we talking about Christmas lights now?”

“Yep,” Adam said, grinning wide. “And why you’re complaining.”

Scott Sr. threw up his hands. “I’m not! Those two—” he jerked a thumb at Tiffany and Rachel—“kept rattling on about colored lights being trashy. So I turned off my hearing aid. Figured I’d come back when they were done.” The crowd laughed outright now, and Y/N bit her lip to keep it together.

Tiffany flushed, doubling down. “We did have a vote! June 19th, 2022—about community beautification. White lights, no blow-ups.”

“And no gnomes,” Rachel chimed in, glaring at the Lawrences. “No need for entire gnome villages.”

“I’m still with Lee,” James Lawrence retorted. “Who put you two on the throne?”

“We were voted in for four-year terms,” Tiffany said with a smug little smirk. “Two years left.”

Hoseok leaned toward Y/N. “Clueless, isn’t she?” he murmured, amused.

“She lives in her own bubble,” Y/N whispered back, stifling a grin.

Before anyone could continue, Blair nudged Jungkook, and the two of them rose, moving to the front with a steady confidence that quieted the room. Hoseok glanced at Y/N, brows raised. Y/N just shook her head, excitement dancing in her eyes. She had no idea what they were about to do, but she knew it would be good.

Jungkook cleared his throat, his voice easily filling the room. “I’m Jungkook Jeon, and this is my wife Blair Reid-Jeon. Some of you remember me from when I lived in Salida.” A few heads nodded. “I’m also President and CEO of Avalanche Development.”

The entire room stilled. Tiffany and Rachel looked like they’d just realized their glittery dresses were inside out. Blair took over, her tone crisp. “When we built these communities, we wanted them family-friendly and fair. The basic HOA rules are standard. But any amendments—” she held up a binder “—are required to be provided to homeowners in writing.”

Jungkook scanned the crowd. “How many of you received notice of these amendments?” Only two hands went up—Rachel and Tiffany’s husbands. Y/N couldn’t help but smirk.

Jungkook continued calmly. “Since Tiffany and Rachel were elected, twenty-five amendments have been submitted here. Our other developments average six in the same period. That raised some questions.”

Blair nodded. “According to Avalanche policy, if we suspect a board is violating the original agreements, we can suspend that board pending an investigation. During suspension, all changes they enacted are null and void.”

A cheer erupted, applause rattling the folding chairs. Tiffany and Rachel looked as if their sequined dresses had turned into scratchy potato sacks. Their jaws tightened as if physically holding back protest.

Jungkook delivered the final blow, his voice carrying the ring of authority: “Until a new vote is held, Taehyung Kim will serve as the local representative for Avalanche Development.”

The crowd whooped. Taehyung waved, trying and failing to hide his pride. Rachel and Tiffany, thoroughly deflated, gathered their purses and their husbands and slunk out, heads low.

Y/N caught Hoseok’s eye, and he grinned wide. She felt light and triumphant, like something stuck in her throat had finally cleared. Tonight, they’d won back their Christmas lights, their freedom, and their dignity. And maybe, she thought, as Hoseok gave her hand another gentle, reassuring squeeze, they’d won something even sweeter than that.

Y/N leaned into Hoseok, her heart swelling with satisfaction. “I love it when justice is served.”

“Especially with a side of brownies,” Hoseok murmured, draping an arm around her and pulling her close.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Y/N turned to him with a grin. “Well, that was a bit anticlimactic,” she laughed, eyes sparkling with victory. “I was hoping for a full-blown protest.”

Hoseok chuckled, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “There’s always next time.”

Jungkook joined them, his grin mischievous as always. “Blair’s dad and our legal team did some serious digging. A few calls to the homeowners confirmed our suspicions—no one knew about these ‘amendments.’ And Deiondre? She’s ready to lead the charge. Tiffany once tried to charm Jimin out of some speeding tickets, but Deiondre? She’s got a long memory and a grudge.”

“So, can we light up Ji-woo’s yard?” Hoseok asked, glancing at Jungkook with a glint of hope.

“Hell yes,” Namjoon said, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder. “We’ll surprise Ms. Ari with the lights first thing in the morning.”

“And we should get some for our yard, too,” Y/N added, nudging Taehyung with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Nothing like a little reminder that sneaky business doesn’t pay off.”

Hoseok’s grin widened as he looked at her. “Need a shopping partner?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Why, Mr. Jung, I’d be honored. Think you can handle Target?”

Hoseok winked, making her stomach flutter. “Target’s my secret addiction.”

Laughing, Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the car. “Let’s go before the others catch on!” she whispered with a grin, glancing back to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. “Blair is fascinated by the fact that you can buy toilet paper and cute shoes at the same place!”

They were still laughing as they slid into his SUV. Y/N settled into the cozy warmth, inhaling the scent of him—something spicy and clean with a hint of leather. She could barely focus on anything but him.

“Music?” Hoseok asked as he started the car, giving her a curious look.

She nodded, wondering what he’d choose. When Sam Hunt’s Take Your Time started playing, she raised an eyebrow. “Country?” she teased, grinning.

Hoseok chuckled. “I like a bit of everything. Try not to judge.”

“Same,” Y/N agreed. “Taehyung always jokes that my playlists are the most chaotic thing about me.”

The drive was easy, filled with conversation—his move to Denver, her memories of growing up in Salida, Taehyung’s infamous cooking disaster. By the time they pulled into Target’s empty parking lot, it felt like only minutes had passed.

Inside, Y/N led the way to the Christmas section, fingers trailing over garlands and lights. She picked up a Frosty the Snowman blow-up, then a Grinch one, holding them up with a mischievous grin. “I’m thinking the Grinch right between Tiffany and Rachel’s houses.”

Hoseok laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her heart race. They wandered the aisles, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. At one point, Y/N broke into an off-key rendition of “Say You’ll Be There” by the Spice Girls, and Hoseok watched her, utterly captivated. Every little thing about her pulled him in, until he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to pull away.

“What do you think of these?” Y/N held up a box of large, multicolored retro lights, her eyes bright. “Thinking they’d look great in the windows.”

“They’re perfect,” Hoseok replied, holding up his own find—a large Rudolph blow-up. “Think Arabella will like this?”

“She’ll love it,” Y/N giggled, imagining the little girl’s delight. “She can put it right next to Santa.”

Just then, a young employee approached, wide-eyed as he recognized Hoseok. “Dude, you’re Hoseok Jung,” he whispered, starstruck.

Hoseok gave him a friendly smile. “Hey, Fraser. Could you keep it low-key? My girl and I are just trying to shop.”

The phrase my girl sent a thrill through Y/N’s chest, even if she knew it was just a way to keep things quiet. Still, it felt nice. Really nice.

Fraser looked ecstatic. “No problem. My dad’s a huge fan—he’d never believe I met you.”

“FaceTime him,” Y/N suggested, smiling. She loved making people’s day; it was one of the many things Hoseok admired about her. A few minutes later, Fraser was video chatting with his dad, and Hoseok was chatting and laughing with them both like old friends. At checkout, Fraser even gave them his employee discount as a thank-you, and Y/N, ever the charmer, kissed his cheek, wishing him a happy holiday.

As they stashed their bags in the car, Hoseok reached for her hand again. The touch was electric, and she looked up at him, heart racing as his thumb brushed over her skin.

“So,” Hoseok teased, his voice soft, “should I be jealous of Fraser?”

Y/N laughed, her voice a little breathless. “Oh, please,” she murmured, her lips curling into a smile. And then, without thinking, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt—the spark between them igniting into a full, consuming blaze. His lips moved against hers with a heat that left her breathless, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer. Every inch of her was alive, responding to him with a rush of want and need she couldn’t control.

Hoseok’s hands gripped her waist, pulling her onto his lap as the kiss deepened. The soft leather seats of the SUV faded away, the world outside disappearing as his mouth claimed hers. His fingers traced the curve of her back, sending delicious shivers down her spine, and Y/N couldn’t think of anything beyond the way he was making her feel.

When he finally pulled back, his breath warm against her skin, he whispered, his voice husky, “You taste so good.”

Her head spun, her heart pounding as she whispered back, “Oh God, Hoseok…”

He groaned, hands tightening on her waist, but managed to pull back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his voice thick with restraint. “We really need to go,” he muttered, his tone both regretful and amused. “Pretty sure this parking lot isn’t the best place for this.”

“There’s a Motel 6 about ten minutes away,” Y/N teased, a wicked grin on her lips as she nibbled his lower lip.

Hoseok chuckled, a spark of mischief in his eyes, but there was a seriousness in his voice that sent a flutter through her heart. “Baby, our first time isn’t gonna be in some motel.”

“Damn,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him one last time, slower this time, savoring the taste of him before reluctantly slipping back into her seat. He brushed a soft kiss on her forehead, and even as they sat there in the warm silence, she knew this was far from over. Her body hummed with anticipation, her mind spinning with possibilities. And as Hoseok started the engine, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. One thing was certain—neither of them wanted this night to end.

That weekend, Hoseok had an away game, so he left early Tuesday morning to head back to Denver. But even a hundred miles couldn’t dull the connection between them. The distance didn’t stop them from staying in constant contact, texting, talking, and FaceTiming every chance they got, like their conversations were the only thing holding them together. The weekend flew by in a whirlwind of Broncos’ victory, securing their playoff spot and a first-round bye.

On Monday night, Hoseok’s voice filled her phone with a warmth that made her heart flutter. “Come to Denver for the weekend,” he suggested during their FaceTime call, his tone casual but carrying an unmistakable spark of anticipation. He turned his camera around to show off his sleek, modern condo with city lights twinkling behind the windows. “Stay with me. I’ll even cook my famous tacos.”

“Famous tacos?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back on her couch with a half-smile, trying to play it cool despite the excitement bubbling in her chest.

“Yep,” Hoseok grinned, amused by her skepticism. “You know the drill: open the yellow box, brown the meat, stir in the seasoning packet, chop some toppings—boom, gourmet masterpiece.” He delivered his ‘recipe’ with mock seriousness, his playful eyes crinkling at the corners.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t you think we should go on an actual date before I spend a weekend at your place, eating your so-called ‘famous tacos’?”

Hoseok’s grin widened. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he said, drawing out her name like it was a melody, teasing her as he leaned closer to the camera, “We’ve already been on plenty of dates. Let’s recap, shall we? First, there was the Christmas party where you dressed as an elf for me. By the way, if you still have that costume, feel free to bring it.” He gave a sly wink that made her cheeks flush.

Y/N covered her face, laughing. “That doesn’t count as a date!”

“Oh, it absolutely counts,” he insisted, barely holding back his own laughter. “Then there was that very classy ‘date’ in your kitchen, where your legs were wrapped around my waist, and your tongue was down my throat—top second date ever.”

“Unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, though her heart raced at the memory, her face heating up.

“We had a double date with your brother and my sister. Sure, Namjoon and the kids were there, but it totally counts,” he said, grinning. “And we went to a show together—the HOA meeting, which was nothing short of a Broadway production.”

Y/N could barely hold it together, laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “So, those were all ‘dates,’ huh?”

“Absolutely,” Hoseok replied, his expression still playful. “And, in some cultures, with how often your tongue’s been in my mouth, we’re practically engaged.”

“Wait, we jumped from dates to being engaged?” she teased, rolling her eyes, though her heart skipped at the word engaged.

“In some cultures,” he replied smoothly, his grin softening. “Which clearly means it’s not too soon for you to come spend the weekend with me—your potential future husband.”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a flicker of nerves and excitement. Potential future husband. The words echoed in her mind, both ridiculous and somehow incredibly sweet. Her heart fluttered, and before she could stop herself, she found herself saying, “Oh hell, Hoseok, who am I to argue with that?”

They ended the call with playful promises, but as she set her phone down, she realized she was pacing her living room, mind whirling with the decision she’d just made. She was going to spend the weekend with Hoseok. At his place.

Was he serious about the ‘practically engaged’ part? She had no idea, but all she could think about was the “naked fun times” he’d hinted at. Her pulse quickened, her skin heating at the memory of their kiss—the way he had touched her, the way she had wanted him.

“Why are you pacing?” Taehyung’s voice broke through her thoughts. He stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Just… exercising. Gotta get my steps in,” she lied quickly, definitely not ready to admit the truth—especially not about the “naked fun times.”

Taehyung squinted, clearly unconvinced, but let it go. “Any plans tonight? I thought we could watch Christmas Vacation or something.”

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She’d have to tell him eventually, and maybe sooner was better. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the news as casually as she could. “Actually… I’ll be in Denver this weekend. Hoseok invited me to stay at his place.”

Taehyung’s face lit up with a teasing grin, his eyes sparkling. “Well, well, looks like things are getting serious. Sure you don’t want to stay at my place instead? Save on hotel costs?”

"You mean Jungkook and Blair’s pool house?” Y/N shot back, smirking because she knew exactly what he meant.

“It’s the Tae Cave, don’t you forget it.” Taehyung laughed, and before she knew it, he’d scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing, carrying her toward the front door.

“Put me down, you idiot!” she shrieked, smacking his back while he stumbled onto the lawn.

Taehyung only grinned, unbothered by her protests. “Ji-woo! Y/N agreed to watch the kids tonight!”

From across the lawn, Ji-woo glanced over, giving them both a knowing smile as she tossed a ball to her kids. “Do boys ever grow up?” she asked, her voice full of teasing.

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. “Nope. They’re all Peter Pans at heart.”

Fifteen minutes later, Y/N was back inside, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement as she texted Blair.

Y/N: I’m spending the weekend at Hoseok’s place.

Blair: Girl, you better tap that ass!

Y/N: Well… I think I will.

Blair’s response came back instantly, her enthusiasm practically leaping off the screen.

Blair: YES, finally! Go get it, girl! He’s so into you—I can feel it from here!

Y/N set her phone down, her lips curling into a grin that reached her eyes. The weekend stretched out before her like an open road, brimming with possibilities she hadn’t even dared to dream about. But even as she tried to play it cool, there was a nagging question in the back of her mind: What did this mean for them? Was this just a fun weekend fling, or was the connection between her and Hoseok something deeper?

Meanwhile, Hoseok felt like everything was clicking into place. His coach was over the moon about their playoff win, and on the field, he was playing with a fire he hadn’t felt in years. He could already picture that Super Bowl ring on his finger and the pride shining in Namjoon’s eyes. But there was one hurdle he hadn’t quite cleared—dating Namjoon’s little sister without landing on the wrong side of her brother’s protective instincts. If he could navigate that, the Super Bowl would feel like a stroll in the park.

As for the weekend ahead? Hoseok had a different kind of goal in mind—a personal mission that had nothing to do with football.

The doorman buzzed, signaling his guest’s arrival. Hoseok did a quick sweep of the apartment, making sure everything was in order. Steaks rested on the counter, sweet potatoes were warming in the oven, and a bottle of wine sat ready in case Y/N needed a break from her usual whiskey. A bouquet of red and white flowers added a touch of cozy, holiday cheer—perfect for the night they’d come together to reclaim their Christmas spirit.

Just as the elevator dinged, Hoseok rushed to the door and caught sight of Y/N stepping out. She looked a bit stunned but as beautiful as ever, cheeks flushed from the cold and bundled up in her winter coat.

“You made it,” he grinned, stepping forward to pull her into a hug. Her familiar warmth enveloped him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Blair dropped me off,” she murmured into his shoulder, her arms slipping around his neck. “She had to pick up some paperwork. Apparently, they found proof that Rachel was skimming HOA funds—billing for stuff and pocketing the money. They’re pressing charges. Tiffany was just following her lead, but there’s no evidence she took any of it.” She sighed, pulling back to look him in the eye. “And we stopped by Joon’s place so I could grab my suitcase. But he used it last for that cruise, so I had to get it from him. The cruiser was there, but no one answered the door, and I got worried. He’s not exactly young anymore, and his cholesterol isn’t great…”

Hoseok felt a pang of concern tighten his chest. Gently, he guided her inside, leading her to the living room as he closed the door behind them.

“Is Namjoon okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice flat as she replied, “My brother was having sex with Teagan Carter.” Her words hung in the air, heavy and shocking. “Former Broncos cheerleader Teagan Carter. Blair and I walked in on him… in full doggy style… on the kitchen table where I ate breakfast every day growing up.” Her tone was so deadpan, so matter-of-fact, that Hoseok had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

He’d seen his parents through enough awkward moments to know the trauma, but the image of rule-following Namjoon caught in such an act almost broke his composure. Still, Y/N looked genuinely shaken, so he swallowed his amusement. He wasn’t about to let anything ruin their night.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured, pulling her close and guiding her to the big, squishy sectional in his living room. “Sounds like you could use a strong whiskey.”

He sat her down, brushing a stray hair from her face before heading to the bar. Pouring her a couple of fingers, he handed her the glass, watching as she downed it in one gulp before holding it out for more. He poured a second, and this time, she sipped more slowly.

“Thanks for the flowers,” she said, her voice steadier as she glanced over at the festive bouquet. “And the whiskey.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, feeling a warmth spread through him as he watched her start to relax. “How about we eat in here tonight? I’ve got steaks, sweet potatoes, and creamed southwestern-style corn. We can just sit on the couch, watch something, take it easy. No table, no formality.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, looking around the room with a small smile, her shoulders finally losing some tension.

“Wait… no Christmas tree?” she teased, glancing back at him with a playful pout.

Hoseok rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I had one, but I forgot to water it, and it pretty much died. Total fire hazard, so I got rid of it.”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. “What would Arabella say?”

“Oh, she’d fire me on the spot,” he replied with mock horror. “But don’t worry—we’ll go to a Christmas store tomorrow and get a replacement. We’ll decorate it together before my niece disowns me for holiday negligence.”

Her laughter was music to his ears, and he felt the last bit of tension melt away from her body. They ate quickly, the food delicious but secondary to the easy flow of conversation between them. White Christmas played softly in the background, and as Y/N fed him small bites of steak, the air grew charged. Their playful touches lingered, her hand resting on his thigh a little longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against her shoulder as they exchanged knowing glances.

By the time dinner was over, Hoseok felt the pull between them, the simmering desire they both seemed to be tiptoeing around. He’d been trying to take things slow, but it was getting harder to ignore how her body leaned into his, how her eyes traced his mouth like a path she wanted to follow.

“I’m just gonna use the bathroom,” Y/N said, standing up with a soft smile before disappearing down the hall.

Hoseok took the chance to brush his teeth, trying to steady himself, but it all felt oddly… domestic. Sharing a meal, cleaning up, brushing their teeth in the same space like it was the most natural thing in the world. For the first time, it hit him just how right it felt to have her here, in his home. He didn’t know where this was going, but he was sure of one thing: he didn’t want to lose whatever this was.

“Hoseok?” Her voice floated softly down the hall, pulling him from his thoughts. He stepped out of the bathroom to find her standing there, looking at him with a warmth in her eyes that made his chest tighten.

“Sorry, I needed to brush mine too,” he said with a small smile, gesturing behind him toward the bathroom. His heart skipped as she stepped further into his room, her eyes widening as they took in the sight of his massive California king bed.

“That bed is huge!” she exclaimed, her surprise turning into a smile, a playful curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“I’m a big guy. I like lots of room,” he teased, winking in that effortless way that always made her pulse race.

She giggled, but before she could respond, he moved toward her, scooping her up into his arms. She shrieked in laughter, her hands instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling herself close as her body curled against his.

“Hoseok!” she giggled, her laughter filling the room like music. “What are you doing?”

“Testing out how much room we have,” he quipped, grinning as he carried her toward the bed. He carefully set her down on the soft mattress, her head sinking into the pillow as she giggled, squirming under his playful attack. The sheets were crisp and cool beneath her, and she looked up at him with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

“Oh, so this is your big plan? Throw me onto your bed and… what? Have a pillow fight?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

“Not quite,” Hoseok replied, his grin softening as he settled beside her, keeping a little space between them. Propping his head on his arm, he looked at her, his playful expression turning more tender, more serious. “I thought maybe we could just… talk for a bit.”

Her expression shifted, the laughter in her eyes melting into something warmer. “Talk, huh?” she murmured, her voice softening as she turned to face him, the space between them feeling both wide and intimate all at once.

He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin. “Yeah… I want to get to know you more,” he admitted, his voice low, like he was letting her in on a secret. “Like… what makes you happy. What you dream about. Stuff like that.”

Her heart melted at his words, and she shifted closer, turning onto her side so that they were face to face, sharing the same pillow. Her fingers traced small circles on the sheet between them, her mind racing with thoughts of how rare it was for someone to want to know her in this way.

“Well,” she began, her voice a little shy but honest, “I’m happiest when I’m with the people I care about—my family, my friends. I love little moments, like baking cookies with Tae or playing board games with my students.” She paused, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. “And… I’ve always dreamed of traveling. I want to see places I’ve only read about. Paris, Rome… maybe even Tokyo.”

“Tokyo, huh?” His eyes lit up as he listened, his hand moving to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “I’ve been there a few times for games. You’d love it. The city is electric, so full of life. It’s one of those places where you feel like anything’s possible.”

She smiled at the thought, her heart swelling with how easy it was to imagine herself in a place like that—especially with Hoseok by her side.

“What about you?” she asked, curiosity sparking as she looked at him. “What makes you happy?”

His gaze softened, something tender flashing in his eyes. “Honestly?” he began, his voice quiet. “Moments like this. Where everything feels… simple. No pressure, no expectations. Just… being with someone who gets me.” His thumb brushed along her cheek, and he hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully. “And you make me happy. Just being around you.”

Her breath caught, her chest tightening at the way his words wrapped around her, filling the quiet space between them. His hand lingered on her cheek, his touch warm, and she leaned into it, savoring the moment, the connection.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them wrapped up in the quiet intimacy. She could feel her heart pounding, the tension between them building with each passing second.

Then, without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm, pulling him closer until the space between them disappeared. Their bodies pressed together, the warmth of him surrounding her like a soft blanket.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her gaze lingered on his lips, her own just inches from his. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Hoseok’s eyes darkened, his breath escaping in a soft exhale as he leaned in, closing the gap between them. “I’ve been thinking about you, too,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between.

The kiss that followed was slow at first, deliberate. They savored every second, every gentle brush of their lips, as if the world had paused to let them catch their breath. The tenderness lingered—a kiss that drew them deeper, as though nothing else existed beyond that connection. But tenderness has a way of unraveling, and soon desire took over.

Hoseok’s hand slid to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as if he could meld them together. Y/N’s hands pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. It wasn’t just his heart racing—hers was too. Something raw and wild had ignited between them, like an engine roaring to life, and it was growing.

He shifted, flipping them effortlessly until she was straddling him, their bodies pressing together like they had always belonged this way, like there was never supposed to be any space between them. His hands roamed up her back, fingers sliding beneath her shirt, and Y/N arched into his touch, every nerve in her body coming alive.

She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted this—no, needed this. All the tension, the constant teasing, the slow build—it all came rushing to the surface now, and she couldn’t get enough of him. His lips met hers again, but there was nothing soft about it this time. It was desperate, all-consuming. A firestorm. His tongue parted her lips, tasting her, and Y/N matched his intensity, her hands sliding down his chest, feeling every inch of him beneath his shirt.

Hoseok moved again, laying her back against the bed, positioning himself beside her, his arm holding him up as he gazed down at her. Their legs tangled, and she could feel the warmth of him, the electricity that sparked between them. His hand traced a slow line up her arm, and she instinctively moved closer, pressing her face against his chest, feeling the cool fabric of his shirt against her cheek.

Hoseok’s breath was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something intense beneath the surface. He looked down at her, his eyes soft, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

He brought his hand to her cheek, brushing it tenderly before leaning in to kiss her again. But this time, there was no hesitation. His lips claimed hers with a kind of certainty that sent a jolt through her entire being. This was Hoseok—her Hoseok. The realization wrapped around her heart, pulling her in even deeper.

Her fingers clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, the kiss growing more passionate with each passing second. Every time their lips parted, they found each other again, more intense, more insistent. Y/N’s breath quickened, her pulse racing, her entire world narrowing down to the feel of him—his scent, his warmth, the way his hands moved over her, like he was never going to let her go.

This is Hoseok, her mind whispered, Hoseok holding me, kissing me... Heat pooled low in her belly, her body responding with an urgency that took her breath away. She was hot and aching, and all she could think about was how much she wanted him—how much she needed him.

But then, something shifted inside her. She found herself pulling back, her mind slipping out of the moment. Her lips stilled, and she buried her face against his chest, her breath catching as she tried to steady herself. Hoseok didn’t let go. He kept his arms wrapped around her, strong and steady, his chin resting gently on the top of her head. For a while, they just lay there, breathing together as the soft patter of rain against the window filled the quiet room.

Hoseok pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, lingering there for a moment. Y/N tilted her head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes held a question, one he didn’t need to voice. Do you trust me?

“Yes,” she whispered, the word escaping her before she even realized it. She leaned up, kissing him again, slowly at first, before rolling with him until he was fully over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. The kiss deepened, turning passionate, their lips moving together in a heated rhythm that made her breath hitch.

Hoseok’s lips left hers, trailing down her neck, soft at first, then more demanding as he reached the curve of her throat. His mouth opened, teeth grazing her skin before biting down gently, and Y/N gasped, her body arching beneath him. A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine, her eyes fluttering closed, her hands tangling in his hair.

His hands moved with purpose, tracing the curves of her waist, sliding up to cup her breast through her shirt. Y/N’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, her body responding to every kiss, every touch. His thumb brushed over her nipple, sending a delicious thrill through her, and she moaned, her fingers clutching at his shoulders.

“Hoseok,” she breathed, her voice thick with longing.

He didn’t stop, his lips moving lower, kissing along her collarbone, down to her stomach as he pushed her shirt up, revealing more of her skin with each kiss. Y/N’s heart pounded, her mind spinning as his touch ignited every inch of her. The air between them buzzed, electric, and all she could think was how much she needed him—how much she wanted him.

And when his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, finding her warm and wet, Y/N’s mind went blank. Her world narrowed down to the sensation, the overwhelming pleasure as his fingers moved over her, teasing, exploring, drawing her higher and higher.

Her breath hitched, her body arching into his touch, her hands fisting the sheets as she lost herself to the storm of desire he’d stirred in her. She couldn’t think—only feel, as Hoseok took her further, his mouth and hands working in perfect sync to unravel her completely.

Hoseok’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his focus entirely on her, on the way she responded to his touch. His mouth found her neck, lips warm and insistent, kissing and nipping in a way that bordered on torturous. Each kiss was like a spark, igniting something deep inside her, making her legs tremble.

She felt herself teetering on the edge, her body trembling, her breath coming in short gasps. Hoseok’s mouth moved with purpose, and then, with a final flick of his tongue, Y/N’s world shattered. Her body convulsed, pleasure rippling through her in waves, and she cried out, her mind blank, her entire being consumed by the sensation.

“Hoseok!” she screamed, her voice raw, as she came apart beneath him.

The aftershocks left her body trembling, her breath uneven, her heart pounding in her chest. When she finally opened her eyes, Hoseok was still there, his lips leaving gentle kisses as if savoring every last bit of her. She reached down, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

“Hoseok…” she whispered, her voice weak, and he looked up, his eyes meeting hers, dark and filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

He moved up, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss, his hand still on her, his fingers stroking her gently. She sighed into the kiss, her body relaxing beneath him, the warmth of him filling her.

“No rest?” she murmured against his lips, her voice thick with exhaustion and desire.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes softening. “We’re slowing down,” he promised, his voice a husky whisper. There was something in the way he said it—an intimacy, a reassurance—that made her heart swell. It was a promise, but it was also a temptation, one she wasn’t sure she could resist.

She kissed him again, her lips seeking his in a slow, sensual dance. Hoseok’s fingers continued their gentle exploration, his touch grounding her, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. She didn’t know where this was going, what would happen next, but right now—right here in his arms—it felt like everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

Her hands moved down, brushing against the undone buckle of his belt, her fingers slipping inside and finding him hard, throbbing with anticipation. Wrapping her hand around him, she began to stroke, her movements deliberate, matching the slow, sensual rhythm of his fingers as he moved against her. She could feel him growing even harder beneath her touch, the heat between them building with every second.

Hoseok stilled, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. Together, they moved in a slow, building rhythm, heat flooding through her all over again, setting every inch of her on fire.

And then his pace slowed, the movement growing almost imperceptibly gradual. Y/N opened her eyes, questioning, as Hoseok shifted beneath her. His arm slid under her back with a fluid grace, holding her close as he gave one last deliberate thrust. Then, without a word, he carefully rolled them both until she was on top, straddling him, her legs trembling as she adjusted to the new position.

Y/N hovered above him, her breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as she lay against his chest. She could feel the tip of him brushing against her, an aching reminder of how full he had made her feel just moments before. Lifting her gaze, her eyes met Hoseok's, and for a moment, they were simply lost in each other. There was an unspoken understanding, a silent agreement forged from shared intensity and want.

It felt like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only this—the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart, the rhythmic pulse of their bodies.

Y/N took a deep breath, pushing herself upright, her hands bracing against his chest. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, achingly slow, until she could feel every inch of him stretching her, filling her completely. A groan escaped her lips, her eyelids fluttering shut as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. She stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling of him inside her, the way their bodies seemed to mold together perfectly, the way her skin burned from the intimate contact.

Hoseok's hands rested on her hips, his fingers tracing the soft skin there in slow, gentle strokes, guiding without forcing. "Y/N, move with me," he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a quiet kind of intensity.

She nodded, her lips parting as she exhaled shakily. She lifted herself just a little before sliding back down, the friction sending a wave of warmth through her, radiating from where they were joined and traveling through her entire body.

"A little more," Hoseok instructed, his voice a low hum, his hands on her hips gently guiding her. She complied, shifting her position until she felt the angle change, the pressure heightening. "Now tilt forward," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

She did, and when she lifted herself again, the movement sent shockwaves through her, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. She gasped, her thighs shaking as she sank back down, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"Again, Y/N," Hoseok urged, his voice rough with need now, his hands steady on her hips, encouraging but never controlling.

She lifted herself again, her pace picking up, her breath catching in her throat as the friction intensified. Each time she came down onto him, it hit just right, the pressure building inside her like a storm about to break.

"Hoseok," she moaned, her voice raw, her movements becoming more desperate. "I can't—"

"You can," he murmured, his hands tightening just enough to guide her, to keep her steady. "I'm here. You can."

His words were like fuel to the fire burning inside her, and Y/N couldn't stop now. She couldn't hold back, couldn't control the way her body moved, the rhythm growing faster, more frantic. Hoseok's hips met hers with every movement, the sensation driving her closer to the edge.

"Hoseok," she gasped, her voice breaking as the pleasure grew overwhelming. "I don't know—"

"You can," he repeated, his voice filled with heat but also with a steadiness that anchored her. "I'm right here with you. Take me."

And she did. Y/N let herself go, the rhythm spiraling faster, the friction building to an unbearable peak. She focused on the way it felt—the way his body moved beneath hers, filling her again and again, the way their connection sparked like a live wire. Her cries grew louder, mingling with Hoseok's deep, guttural moans, his name falling from her lips like a desperate prayer as she gave herself over completely to the raw, consuming pleasure.

The pressure inside her finally burst, sending her over the edge, her body convulsing with each wave of release. She collapsed onto Hoseok, her face pressing into the crook of his neck, her breath coming in short, broken gasps.

Hoseok held her close, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back, his lips pressing soft kisses to her hair as her body trembled against him. Slowly, gently, he shifted them, rolling onto their sides so she was cradled against him, her legs still tangled with his.

Y/N felt exhaustion wash over her, her eyes heavy, her mind hazy with the aftershocks of what had just happened. She looked up at him, her gaze meeting his, and there was something in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat—something tender, something achingly real.

Hoseok leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead, his breath warm on her skin as he whispered, "You're beautiful, Y/N."

A soft sigh escaped her lips, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite put into words. And as sleep began to pull her under, the last thing she felt was Hoseok's heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and comforting, lulling her into the quiet darkness.

Hoseok and Y/N found themselves wandering the brightly lit aisles of a 24-hour Christmas shop at two in the morning, after indulging in a couple more rounds of "naked fun time" and catching a nap. Now, they were doing something a little more wholesome—shopping for a Christmas tree. The soft glow of twinkling lights and the faint hum of Christmas music set the mood, but the intimacy between them lingered, electric and unmistakable.

"What did I tell you about shoving that tongue of yours in my mouth, baby?" Hoseok teased, his hand wrapped warmly around hers as they strolled side by side. His voice was playful, but the undercurrent of attraction that simmered between them hadn’t dissipated from earlier.

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance, feigning innocence as she inspected an eight-foot artificial tree in front of her. It was lush, full, and pre-lit—perfect for his apartment. But the price tag gave her pause. "Hoseok, we’re in public. We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile," she replied, her lips quirking into a smirk. "I’m not going to shove my tongue down your throat, no matter how hot you look right now."

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her heart skip a beat. "It’s two in the morning," he countered, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned in close enough that his breath tickled her ear. "The only people here are two cashiers who aren’t paying attention, and that guy over there who looks like he’s about to have a mental breakdown over the stocking selection."

Y/N slapped his hand playfully as it ventured toward her butt, but couldn’t help laughing herself. Hoseok always had a way of making everything fun. "Behave," she teased, trying to regain some control. "Let’s just get the tree and grab something to eat. If you’re a good boy," she added, her voice dropping suggestively, "maybe I’ll reward you when we get back to your place. But right now, my kitty is a little sore."

Immediately, the playful grin on Hoseok’s face softened into concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes darting down to her lower half as if he could somehow diagnose her pain through her clothes.

Y/N giggled, touched by his genuine worry. "I’m fine," she assured him, brushing a hand over his chest. "I just need a little break before that big boy of yours comes back to play."

Relief washed over his features, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her closer. "Then let’s get this tree," he said, his voice back to its playful cadence as he grabbed the massive $400 pre-lit tree without hesitation and dropped it into their cart. Y/N’s eyes widened at the ease with which he tossed the tree around like it weighed nothing. She reminded herself that Hoseok’s salary as a professional quarterback meant this was pocket change to him.

They continued through the store, picking out ornaments, stockings, and other holiday decorations to transform Hoseok’s apartment into a Christmas wonderland. As they turned down another aisle, Hoseok spotted a giant blow-up Rudolph tucked away in a corner, probably set aside by another shopper. But Hoseok didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the blow-up with a triumphant grin.

"Think Arabella will like this?" he asked, holding it up for Y/N’s inspection.

"She’s going to love it!" Y/N squealed, doing a little happy dance in the aisle. "It’ll look perfect next to her Santa."

They made their way toward the checkout, their cart brimming with holiday cheer. Just as they approached the register, a young employee walked up to them, his eyes wide with disbelief as he recognized Hoseok.

"Dude, you’re Hoseok Jung," the kid—Fraser—breathed, looking like he was about to faint from excitement.

Hoseok smiled warmly, always gracious with fans. "Hey, Fraser," he greeted. "Can we keep this low-key? My girl and I are just trying to shop without causing a scene."

Fraser nodded eagerly, his awe palpable. "No problem, man. But my dad is a huge fan—he’s never going to believe I met you."

Without missing a beat, Y/N stepped in with a solution. "Why don’t you FaceTime him? Hoseok can say hi. Consider it an early Christmas present."

Fraser’s face lit up, and a moment later, he was dialing his dad on video. Hoseok chatted with the man for a few minutes, making his night, while Y/N watched with a smile, admiring how effortlessly charming he was with everyone. By the time they left the store, Fraser had applied his employee discount, and they left with their cartful of holiday magic.

Back at Hoseok’s sleek, modern apartment, they set up the tree and decorated it with the ornaments they had bought. The space soon took on a warm, festive glow as they adorned every inch with twinkling lights and garland. Y/N was sore, her body reminding her of their earlier escapades, so she popped a couple of Advil and leaned into the cozy domesticity of the moment. They scrambled eggs and made toast in the kitchen afterward, sharing quiet, comfortable laughter while Hoseok, in nothing but sweatpants, danced around the room like a man without a care in the world.

After their impromptu breakfast, they decided to take a long soak in Hoseok’s luxurious jetted tub. The hot water soothed Y/N’s aching muscles, and she leaned back, watching the steam rise as she sipped a glass of wine. Hoseok was beside her, his arm resting casually along the edge of the tub, and they talked quietly, the sound of the water bubbling around them.

"This bathroom is a whole spa," Y/N sighed contentedly. "I could live here."

"Good," Hoseok teased, "because you’re not allowed to leave."

They shared a soft laugh before falling into a companionable silence, the kind that comes when two people are perfectly in sync. Y/N closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the water and the presence of the man beside her. She hadn’t realized how deeply she was falling for him, but it was moments like these—simple, quiet, intimate—that made her heart swell.

Later, feeling completely relaxed and refreshed, Y/N found herself back in Hoseok’s bedroom. She playfully pushed him onto the bed, his towel falling away as she crawled over him. The night had been a blur of laughter, shared glances, and stolen kisses, but now there was a different energy between them—one that simmered with anticipation. She kissed him deeply, her hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

Hoseok’s hands found their way to her hips, gripping her gently as she straddled him, her body moving in perfect sync with his. They had started the night in celebration, but as their lips met again and again, it became clear that they weren’t quite finished celebrating. Their connection deepened, and before long, Y/N had lost count of the number of times Hoseok had brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

As they lay tangled in the sheets afterward, Y/N rested her head on Hoseok’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this content, this safe, this utterly fulfilled. She glanced up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at her with a smile that was equal parts satisfaction and affection.

"Do you think Arabella will notice if we sleep all day tomorrow?" Y/N whispered with a playful grin.

Hoseok laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. "I think she’ll notice, but maybe I can bribe her with that giant Rudolph."

Y/N giggled, snuggling closer to him. "Best bribe ever."

They drifted off to sleep, the glow of the Christmas tree casting a soft light over the room, the warmth of their shared moments wrapping around them like a blanket.

Christmas morning dawned with a soft blanket of snow covering the streets, casting everything in a serene, white glow. Y/N pulled on her favorite holiday pajamas—flannel with tiny reindeer printed all over them—and headed downstairs to the kitchen where the smell of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Hoseok was already up, standing by the stove, looking impossibly handsome even in the early morning light. He wore a red sweater with a goofy snowman on it, his hair still a bit tousled from sleep.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he greeted her, his voice warm and affectionate as he turned away from the stove to plant a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Merry Christmas," Y/N murmured, leaning into him for a moment before glancing at the counter, where several plates of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs were laid out. "You made all this?"

"I figured I’d spoil you a little this morning," Hoseok said with a grin, flipping a pancake effortlessly in the air. "But don’t get used to it—this is a special occasion."

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist as he cooked. She loved moments like this, where everything felt simple and perfect. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

After breakfast, they exchanged their first Christmas presents together. Y/N, trying not to look too giddy, handed Hoseok a neatly wrapped box. He eyed it curiously before tearing off the paper to reveal a chunky knit sweater, soft and charcoal gray.

"I noticed you didn’t have any sweaters that weren’t Christmas-themed," Y/N teased, watching his expression as he held the sweater up for inspection. "Figured you needed one for, you know, normal winter days."

Hoseok grinned, running his fingers over the fabric. "I love it," he said, immediately pulling it over his head, the sweater fitting perfectly over his broad shoulders. "How do I look?"

"Ridiculously good, as usual," Y/N said, laughing as he struck a pose, exaggerating his movements like a runway model. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he replied, leaning in to kiss her softly. Then, with a mischievous smile, he handed her a wrapped box of his own. "Your turn."

Y/N unwrapped it carefully, the paper revealing a set of beautifully arranged classroom supplies—new whiteboards, markers, and a sleek, high-quality planner. She looked up at Hoseok, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of the gift. "You… you remembered I needed these?"

"Of course I did," Hoseok said, his smile softening. "You mentioned it once, a few weeks ago, about how some of your supplies were old or worn out. I figured your students deserve the best, and so do you."

Y/N felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. It was such a small thing, but the fact that he’d remembered and gone out of his way to get her something so practical, something that would make her job easier, made her feel incredibly loved. "Thank you," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Hey, I just want to make sure you’re ready to shape young minds," Hoseok teased, but there was a sincerity in his voice that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

By mid-morning, they were bundled up and heading over to Ji-woo’s house for the family Christmas party. Hoseok carried a bag full of presents for his niece and nephew while Y/N held a tray of cookies she’d baked the night before.

Ji-woo’s house was buzzing with life when they arrived. The sound of children laughing, holiday music playing, and the smell of roasting turkey greeted them as soon as they walked through the door. Arabella came running up to Hoseok, her face lighting up when she saw him.

"Uncle Hobi!" she squealed, throwing her arms around his waist. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Arabella," Hoseok said, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around as she giggled. "I’ve got a surprise for you!"

Arabella’s eyes widened with excitement as Hoseok set her down and pulled out the giant inflatable Rudolph from the bag. Her squeals of delight filled the room as she hugged the blow-up reindeer tightly.

"I knew it! I knew you’d bring Rudolph!" she beamed, her joy infectious.

In the living room, Ji-woo was busy setting up the table, her smile bright and welcoming. "Merry Christmas, you two!" she called out, walking over to hug them both. "You’re just in time. Maxwell’s been asking when Uncle Hobi’s going to get here so he can open his gifts."

"And I brought something extra this year," Y/N said with a grin, handing over the tray of cookies. "Hope the kids like them."

"I’m sure they will," Ji-woo laughed, taking the cookies and placing them on the table beside an array of other desserts.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of laughter, food, and family. Taehyung and Jungkook arrived soon after, arms full of more gifts and treats. Namjoon showed up in his full police uniform, fresh from his morning shift, with his usual calm smile and a bag of baked goods he claimed were homemade (but Y/N knew they were store-bought).

After opening presents, everyone settled around the fireplace, sipping hot chocolate while Maxwell and Arabella played with their new toys. Y/N sat beside Hoseok on the couch, leaning her head on his shoulder, feeling completely content. The warmth of the fire, the sound of everyone laughing and talking, the smell of pine from the Christmas tree—it was everything she could’ve asked for.

Hoseok wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "This is nice," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

"Yeah, it is," Y/N murmured, closing her eyes and letting the moment wash over her.

They stayed like that for a while, basking in the simplicity of the holiday, surrounded by the people they cared about most. And as the snow continued to fall softly outside, Y/N couldn’t help but think that this was exactly what Christmas was supposed to feel like—full of love, laughter, and the quiet moments that made everything else seem perfect.

As the day wound down, and the fire began to flicker low, Hoseok leaned over and kissed Y/N’s temple, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for being here with me."

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest like a warm blanket. "I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else."

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[akechi-if-he-slayed]

i finished hsmtmts. no notes i literally cried at the last episode this season was like actually the best i think.

[kathaynesart]

It is done! *falls down*

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT (SOON) MASTER POST

I have... so much to say on so many different things but it is 2:30 in the morning so I will keep this as brief as possible. First off, thank you to all my mom friends and mutuals who helped me with accurately portraying and normalizing the experience of giving birth. It is wonderful, and painful, and gross, and beautiful. I apologize if it made any readers squeamish (and I know there were a few gross jokes in there) but considering how gross the tv show got, I think it remained true to the overall vibe!

Second, I wanted to talk about the concept of "hope" in this story. When I first watched the movie, I felt like the idea of hope being their greatest weapon seemed sort of heavy handed and cheesy. However, after watching the ending of the show again I realized that hope is actually a huge reoccurring element in the story and a big part of what it means to be of the Hamato clan. Doubly so, I wanted Casey Junior in a way to symbolize that hope for Leo specifically, so when Leo talks about hope in the beginning of the movie, he's not just talking about some vague concept, but Casey Junior himself. He is their greatest weapon and he doesn't even realize it.

Thirdly, so uh... Casey Junior. I apologize if it had seemed out of left field, but do know that the decision of his origins was not made lightly. The shear similarity in his facial structure to Lou Jitsu as well as several other factors that I will refrain from stating due to future spoilers was too numerous to ignore! It is an integral part of his story for reasons that will go unsaid for now, and no, he does not know he's distantly related to them. Also, Big Mama! Been holding onto her concept for some time now! I loved the idea of her mystic broach becoming damaged so she can only be cloaked to a certain degree, making for an interesting blend of both her forms. She was really fun to figure out!

Finally thank you everyone for your patience. This special turned into quite the endeavor with most of the updates exceeding 20 pages each, but I'm so happy I was able to finish it... even if it did take so much longer than my projected hope. I can't wait to get back to the main storyline, though I shall miss these silly, overpowered boys. We got a lot of ground to cover and I'll likely be posting a summarized reminder before continuing. ...and after I finish work on some Zines and the holiday special winning commission!

[g4rvez-r3id]

One Bed…

S6! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

Synopsis: You and Reid get paired together in a hotel room after a case, only to discover there’s only one bed in the hotel room. And that said hotel room is freezing.

Category: Fluff!

Warnings: established friendship, age gap between reid & reader (8 years, spencer is 29, reader is 21/22), takes place mid-season 6, pre-lauren storyline- all basic criminal minds themes, (nothing too graphic, just mentions of a case)- mentions of 4x07 “Memoriam”, 4x26 “…And Back”, 5x01 “Faceless, Nameless”, reid is a reduced to a dummy when it comes to women, teasing, mutual crushing, cuddling, all the fluff! slowburn (?) that should cover it(?)

Author’s Note: hey, lovelies! this is my first time writing on tumblr so please take it easy on me, it’s my first time doing this, haha! my specialty is wattpad and this was originally an idea i had for one of my books but i realized it more so fit reid x reader so here y’all are!! <3

It was a pretty tough case. The ones with children always were, at least. Since it was now the nighttime, everyone had headed back to their hotel for the night. They would be flying home early the very next day.

Hotch had told the team that they would all have to share their rooms as they headed up to the third floor, where all of their rooms were. Hotch handed Emily, Morgan, you and Reid two keycards so they could figure out how they were rooming.

Naturally, Hotch and Rossi went to go share a room. You looked over at Emily, but realized she soon called the room with Morgan. You furrowed her brows at Emily and the woman shrugs, “You snore.”

You deny the rumor and shake your head, “I don’t snore.” Morgan and Emily chuckle to themselves as Morgan opens up their room door with one of the keycards.

“It don’t matter,” Morgan replied. “You’re still sharing a room with Reid.” He tosses over yours and Reid’s keycard to you and you catch it with a sigh as you watch the two disappear into their hotel room.

You turn around and look over at Reid, who is showing off his tight-lipped smile, and holding his satchel strap on his shoulder. He almost looks sad at your reaction to you two sharing a room together. “S-Sorry.” He apologizes, not exactly knowing what he’s sorry for once he says it.

You shake your head and furrow your brows at Reid. “Oh, don’t be sorry, Reid. I’d rather actually share a room with you than either of them.” You lean closer and whisper a bit. “They both snore.”

“We heard that!” Morgan and Emily shout from the other room.

“You were meant to!” You shout back.

Reid has a small smile protruding onto his face as he looks down and you nudge your head towards the room next door. “Come on, I’m wiped.” You yawn, holding the keycard in her hand.

As soon as you open the door, you’re full on expecting two beds — one you’re expecting to crash on after your nightmare of a case and the other you expect Reid to be reading on for the rest of the night, since he barely sleeps enough as it is.

Once you opened that door, your heart dropped. “Oh, my God.” You groan as you throw your head to the ceiling in disbelief and Reid peeks over your shoulder to see what the issue is.

You’re both staring at a menacing queen sized bed, right in the middle of the room.

You chuckle to yourself in disbelief. Of course, you and Reid were stuck with the room that only had one bed. This was bound to happen at some point with the amount of times you’ve had to share a room together. But this was different now that you realized you had a crush not too long ago.

You’d had a bad morning so far. You forgot to set your alarm clock, your coffee machine broke and you wound up with a stain on the shirt you were planning on wearing today to work.

This day could not have possibly gotten worse when you’d taken the Metro this morning and dealt with the crowd of people standing near the door and had to fight your way through them in order to get out.

But your morning ended up taking a turn for the better when you’d walked up to your desk to find your coffee order with a chocolate cake pop next to it.

You looked over at Reid and he smiled at you, guiltily and that’s when you realized he’d be the only person that makes a bad day turn better. And that these feelings you were hiding were blossoming into more.

It didn’t help that Morgan also teased you about it, saying how the pretty boy is falling for the pretty girl and how he didn’t manage to get his or Emily’s coffee orders like he did with you.

And then, you’d fallen hard.

And you worried that this was only going to make it worse.

Both you and Reid looked at one another and you sighed as you placed her go-bag next to the bed.

“I can just sleep on the floor.” Reid offers, already settling his stuff on the floor.

You turn to him, shaking your head. “No, you don’t have to do that, it’s fine.” And you feel bad that he even suggested it to you.

“No, I insist. I don’t- I don’t sleep that much anyways. And you could use the rest.” He told, no hint of annoyance in his voice as he spoke.

You looked back on the bed. You couldn’t ask him to do that. Not for you, as much as the gesture seemed polite. But you’d feel bad if he didn’t at least get a few hours of sleep on a nice bed rather than a hard floor.

Which is why, after their nighttime routines, you were placing pillows in between yourself and Reid. Reid had noticed the goosebumps on your skin as you fixed the pillows between them. He saw that you opted for a white top and sweatpants to wear to bed. No doubt you were freezing.

“This is a pillow barrier. We cannot cross the pillow barrier. The pillow barrier prevents any contact. So, it’s not… weird. Okay?” You explained and Reid nodded to your words. “Okay.”

With that, you turned off the lamp on your bedside and Reid’s was still on because he was currently reading. His book tonight was The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. You’d been the only one who he talked to about it, something about science fiction short stories and how it was his twelfth time reading it.

Your heart absolutely fluttered that day he talked about it, the light in his eyes gleaming with excitement as his mouth moved quickly to explain what he was reading to you. You often hated when Morgan or JJ would quiet him down due to his rambling, but you loved every minute of it.

(Of course, it may have had something to do with the fact that you’ve been harboring a massive crush on him ever since you joined the bureau nearly three years ago.)

An hour or so had passed and Reid had finally gone to bed. But your slumber was being interrupted by the freezing cold air every hour or so. You were confused on how a hotel room could be so freaking cold.

You turned over to see Reid’s backside and realized that one of the pillows had been removed from the pillow barrier and then realized you were the one that had been holding the pillow.

But you held onto it even tighter when the cold air touched your skin and you moved deeper into the covers. Doing so, you realized your foot nudged against Reid’s leg. You also noticed that Reid was still awake because he turned his head over to the girl.

“S-Sorry.” You muttered as you burrowed yourself deeper in the covers. Reid then sat up and turned the lamp on. “Are you cold?” He asked.

“J-J-Just a little.” You admitted, teeth chattering as you spoke. It had to have been below 40 degrees in this room. Reid stood up from his side of the bed and you felt him get up and you turned over to see what he was doing.

You then saw Reid had reached into his bag and picked up one of his sweaters. It was his red cardigan sweater he’d worn just about a couple of cases back. He was gonna wear it tomorrow before they left but he hadn’t had a use for it at the moment.

“Here,” Reid spoke, tossing the cardigan to you on the bed. “You need it more than I do.” You didn’t bother to get out of the covers as you put it on and wrapped it around your body.

“Sorry I woke you up.” You apologized to Reid as he got back in the covers. “No, it’s fine. I was already awake.” Reid stated, turning the lamp on before getting deep in the covers as well.

“You never went to bed?” You asked. “Can’t really attempt to sleep when all you can hear is teeth chattering nonstop.” Reid told, and you chuckled a bit through your shivers. “Sorry.” She said. “It’s okay, really. I don’t sleep much anyways.” Reid admitted and you turned over to him.

You two looked into each other’s eyes and you’d scooted back a bit, realizing you were getting way too close. No, no, don’t think about kissing his perfect lips, right now. But you felt the heat radiating off of his body practically.

“Any facts on how to stay warm?” You joked and Reid shrugged. “Well, there’s warm beverages like hot tea and coffee that could help you stay warm. Moving around at least once an hour and avoid sitting still for long periods. Even light exercise will help keep you warm. There’s also—”

Reid then stopped himself and you furrowed her eyebrows at him. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Oh, this is usually where most people stop me from droning on an on.” He said. “I’m aware that I tend to ramble a lot.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” You told and Reid was left confused for a moment. “Go on.” You encouraged.

You always loved his quirks, his personality, his rambling, the way he often sported cashmere cardigans and mismatched socks because he thought it was good luck. Everything about him you just seemed to enjoy. And he didn’t seem to realize it until now.

Spencer smiled to himself a bit and carried on with his last sentence, hoping to God it wouldn’t sound strange suggesting it. “There’s, uh, also sharing, uh… body heat with… someone. The rate of heat transferred from one body to another increases with the difference in temperature between them. Consequently, the rate of heat lost from a human to the surrounding very cold ambient environment is lower than the rate of heat lost from a human to another human. Like, cuddling, for example, it actually has warming benefits.” He explained, finishing off with his signature tight-lipped smile.

“Cuddling?” You questioned, raising a brow at Reid.

Reid looked at you and realized that maybe you viewed that fact as him trying to cuddle with you and felt as if he was initiating something that he didn’t mean to initiate.

“Not-Not-Not that I, uh, was suggesting that, uh… we-we should, no, I do-did-didn’t—” After stuttering numerous times, Reid nearly just shut up completely and was happy that you had finally decided to interrupt him.

“No, it’s, uh,” You sat up a bit. “It’s actually not a bad idea.” It was Reid’s turn to be confused now as he raised a brow at you this time. “I mean, if you are-if you are… uh, com-comfortable with it… that is.”

Reid’s mouth is open in shock and you close your eyes, now realizing how it sounds. “Oh, God, this just got weird. Uh, how about I just sleep on the floor tonight?”

“No!” Reid answered immediately and you looked back at him, in shock on how fast he denied that. He clears his throat. “I mean, I don’t-I don’t mind. As long as, uh, y-you don’t?” He finished off in rather a question than a statement.

“Uhm, not-not at all. I’m freezing anyways.” It took a second for either one to move so you just started off by removing the rest of the pillow barrier between them. It a simple start to a grand finale.

Since Reid was very inexperienced on how to handle things with girls involved, you kind of just took the lead. You then hesitantly put your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat going 100 miles per hour as you did so.

Reid felt like he didn’t know where to put his hands and immediately settled his right arm around your waist. You kind of found it cute at how flustered he seemed. You wrapped her arm around his slender torso, holding onto him.

In the midst of getting comfortable, the heat radiated off both of their bodies and you snuggled closer subconsciously if anything. Reid’s head rested on top of yours as you moved closer.

“This, uh, this isn’t weird, right?” You asked, beating yourself up for even asking. “Not weird at all.” Reid assured, answering rather quickly. “I think it’s best if we don’t mention this at all to the team, though—” You nod faintly, “I agree.” She said. “They’d never let us live it down. This is purely because I’m cold, that’s it.” Reid agrees, “Yes, that’s all it is.”

She could see Morgan and Emily’s teasing and Garcia’s prying from a mile away. There was absolutely no way they’d live down the harrowing embarrassment.

“Do you think, you could like… I don’t know, give me like some… random facts about something?” You asked and Reid didn’t quite understand what you were asking. “It would really help me sleep.” You added, knowing you could listen to him all day if you wanted. And he’d secretly hoped you wanted to.

So, Reid decided to ramble about anything necessary. It started off with some minor body heating facts, then about numbers, then Doctor Who, then the hotel building’s history and the architecture.

What Reid didn’t realize was that you’d had fallen asleep as soon as he started talking about Doctor Who and he should’ve realized sooner when you stopped asking questions and started responding with ‘mm-hmm’ every few seconds until you were finally lulled to sleep.

He finally came to a stop around 3:30am and noticed that the teeth chattering had finally stopped. He looked down at you and had taken account of your features like he hadn’t before.

Your nose that scrunched up when you slept and had an itch to scratch. Her eyelids hiding the orbs he’d admire once in a while when you looked his way. Her lips (that were in dire need of chapstick at the moment) but nonetheless looked… good. Definitely not kissable. Your hair, which was currently to your shoulders once you cut it on a whim. He never told you but he liked it at this length. He preferred your hair longer when it was but you could suit anything and he’d still think you were pretty.

Yes, he’d admit it — Spencer Reid thought you were pretty.

There was a total of five times in his life now that he realized he may have a slight crush on you.

The first time being when you walked into the bullpen that first day. You started off with a consult on the case and he admittedly thought you very pretty and Garcia and Emily teased him for it. But he was allowed to think you were pretty without liking you. But when it came to it, he was stuttering like an idiot and his facts surrounding the case were running 100 miles an hour in his brain and Emily said something about his IQ being slashed to 60. That’s when he knew something was up. He never got like this before. But of course, he’d never admit it.

The second time was when you defended him in Las Vegas when he thought his dad murdered Riley Jenkins. When Morgan and Rossi were giving him a hard time, you’d taken his side. It didn’t help that you’d also had issues with your own father. He always knew he could relate to you with the daddy issues — it’s probably the reason why you two ended up so close. You’d stuck by his side during the whole thing and he’d known you wouldn’t exactly do that for anyone else on the team that quickly after you’d joined. And he’d do it for you, too.

The third time was the time when they had that case in Canada and you two were paired up to look into the life of their unsub, Lucas Turner. He remembered climbing on the ladder and you following behind him and how you almost fell off the unsteady ladder but he’d caught you. You were both stuck in a weird position at first, his hand around your waist and your arm around his neck. He remembered how he looked into your eyes and felt a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. And in a weird way, he sensed it from you too, but he wasn’t so sure if you felt the same way. He knew he was sure when you had immediately pulled away from the awkward encounter. But he couldn’t blame you. After that, the weird feeling in his stomach didn’t go away.

The fourth time was after he got shot in the leg and you had decided to stay with him for the night in the hospital. He didn’t even remember sleeping, if he was being honest. But he could remember your distinct laugh and your jokes and your facts about random stuff like he’d often do. You two had talked almost the whole night until maybe around 5am when you finally drifted off to sleep. He remembered how content he was when he turned over and had seen you sleeping right next to him. You looked uncomfortable in the chair you were sleeping in but you had wanted to be near him nonetheless. You had even taken him home once he was released. Of course, the team would come to visit before he got out of the hospital but you staying the entire time he was there meant more than anything.

The fifth and final time had been this moment. You, here, sleeping on his chest — simply because of body heat. He really didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable with that fact, he just thought he’d be telling you for her own benefit and to use that how you saw fit. He guessed, you saw it fit with him. And the fact that you liked his rambling, oh, that poor boy’s heart leaped so quickly.

But even after all these times he realized he may have a slight crush on you, he knew that you’d probably never feel the same way even with your head on his chest like this. You two were best friends and nothing more. Since JJ left, you two clung to the hip. You guys had each other now and that was pretty much all you needed. Of course, the two youngest team members should be friends, right?

Granted, you had eight years between you two which was also another reason why Reid couldn’t pursue his crush on you. You were twenty-one, turning twenty-two next month and he was coming up on twenty-nine. You’d started at the BAU the same time Rossi had, making you about eighteen when you were a consult on the case. But the way you carried yourself when you walked in the bullpen that day made you seem older. It seemed almost weird to him, liking you when you were so young. So, here he was, still holding back.

But now… times were different and they were different ages now and you were an adult in your early 20s. And finally since he maybe finally got to know you over the years, he realized you were an awesome person. An awesome person who bad things have happened to. In ways, he’d seen a younger version of himself walking through the BAU at times. You were nice and sweet and pretty and… well, Reid just didn’t know what his exact feelings were just yet.

When you two got up the next morning, you’d both kept your word about not reiterating a word to the team about their sleeping situation. You two actually hadn’t said a word to each other all morning because you were so busy, getting ready to leave for the jet.

And once you two left the room, you turned your key in and headed off to the jet to return home. What happened in that hotel room… stayed in that hotel room, as far as you guys were concerned.

But the one thing Reid told the team was that he didn’t even mind that you snored.

i hope y’all enjoyed my first tumblr story!! please let me know if y’all would like more!! :) thank you for reading! love you all!! <333

-mya

[pellucid-constellations]

Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell... reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: ~950

Warnings: Nothing yet, maybe just a little angst

a/n: Okay I know this is a drabble but this is definitely getting more parts like I am attached to this storyline now and LOVE that you requested it 🤗

Read part two here

____________________________________________

You leaned against a pillar just outside the school, a twitch creeping up your hands until your fingers spasmed. You shoved them under the bend of your elbows, crossing your arms and biting into your lip. 

She was fine. 

She was more than fine—Velaris was safe. 

Anything would have been safer than facing your father’s wrath back in Autumn, but you had gotten extremely lucky with the timing of your escape. Falling pregnant with your daughter had not been in the cards, especially not after a single night of rebellion, but with Velaris’s doors opening up just days after your healer broke the news, something seemed to be written in the stars. 

But every day was still a gamble; your father could find you at any time. 

The past five years had been a miracle, if you were being honest. 

School was supposed to end two minutes ago. 

Your foot began to shake, popping your knee up and down and making your body vibrate with the anxiety that consumed you. 

You shouldn’t have let her go to school. 

Melanie only had a few friends—neighbor kids whose parents you had vetted extensively—but that had been enough for her to get the idea into her head. You had planned on homeschooling her, or at least waiting until she was a few years older before letting her out into the world. Unfortunately, that had not been Melanie’s plan, and Melanie had so many wonderful plans. As most five-year-olds did. 

Gods, what if—

“First day?” a rumbling voice made you pause your nervous fidgeting. The man spoke again. “If you’re worried, don’t be. The teacher is great. Just forgetful when it comes to time. They are typically a few minutes late every day.” 

You swallowed and turned around despite every voice in your head telling you not to. But those voices in your head were completely and utterly wrong about a multitude of things. Behind you, you found a man—an Illyrian—with wings an ungodly size and shadows swirling down his legs and onto a uniform pool along the ground. And he was gorgeous—unabashedly gorgeous in the most devastating way. 

You looked up from your blatant investigation of him, meeting his eye and stuttering out, “Oh. That’s… that’s good to know. Thank you.” 

If he noticed your stutter, he didn’t make any sign of it. Instead, the man with the wings and the shadows blinked several times, furrowed his brows, and took a step back as if to steady himself. Perhaps, if you weren’t a bundle of unreasonable nervous energy, you would have found his actions strange, but you were. So you simply offered him a superficial, airy laugh and uncrossed your arms. 

“I—” the man began, but he seemed to lose his train of thought, a heat traveling up his cheeks in a way that looked foreign. “I’m Azriel.” 

Oh, wonderful. Introductions. 

You tried your hardest to stay very far away from very many people. It was the best way to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t avoid the neighbors, and you supposed you couldn’t avoid fae like Melanie’s teacher, but this was different. 

Shit. 

You offered your name, anyway, afraid of appearing too outlandish in an otherwise casual setting. 

It would be fine. 

This was fine. 

Azriel repeated it in a breathless way, but then the school bell rang and something seemed to click in his brain. The small smile that had curled up the corner of his mouth became hard and he shot his eyes quickly one way and then the other, inspecting your surroundings. 

Maybe this wasn’t fine. 

“Are you a new mom in the area?” Azriel asked. 

All of your nerves shifted to guarded unease. “I am,” you offered, not caring if it was almost a lie. 

“The moms here don’t usually do the pick ups alone.” 

“You’re doing a pick up alone, it seems.” 

“I’m picking up my nephew,” Azriel explained, relaxing his posture, making himself smaller, seemingly gauging the building tension. “I didn’t mean to come across—I just asked because the mothers here typically have help. From their mates or partners. From the father.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, your next words tumbling out before you could catch them. “Well, I’m alone.” 

Double shit. 

Azriel seemed to let out a breath, his shadows whipping around along the ground. 

You braced yourself for further questioning, for the judgments that would surely follow, but then you were attacked from behind by a pair of arms wrapping around your knees. You turned quickly, scooping your daughter into a hug and promptly dismissing any further conversation with the stranger. 

“Hi, Mel,” you smiled, tucking her hair back as you subtly looked her over. “How was school? Did you like it?” 

“I loved it!” she excitedly replied. She rambled on a bit more after that, retelling her day by the minute. 

You felt eyes on you the entire time. A small boy had run and jumped into Azriel’s arms in your peripheral, but even as the boy talked and talked just as Melanie did, you felt the occasional glance your way. And some of Azriel’s shadows had to be reigned in multiple times, the small wisps licking at your ankles. 

The teacher suddenly spoke up and you were eavesdropping, straining your ears to listen in on her greeting towards the Illyrian.

“Oh, Azriel, lovely to see you. We were hoping the High Lady would be picking Nyx up, but this is even better. There is a showcase in a few weeks that—” 

You felt your world freeze. 

High Lady. 

You had been speaking to someone in close relation to the Night Court. You let someone know your name, told them you were alone with a child, and they had direct access to the High Lord and Lady. 

You whisked Melanie into your arms despite her protests and beelined it home. 

Shit. 

part two

[raceydays-hopelesshaze]

I’m caught up on the Lazarus Planet stuff through February and like. DC literally didn’t have to do any of that lol

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Yandere Class 1-A X Reader — { PART 2 }: We’ve Got Company~

(Description: Titles are hard, okay? Please don’t shame me for how cheesy it is because I know it's corny LOL. But I make up for it with decent writing! I POPPED OFF with some of these parts.

We all know this by now, but it’s safe to say (Y/N) is too trusting of EVERYONE. The amount of people I keep making them blindly and wholly give their faith to is…concerning. I know you guys probably want them to fight back more, but it’s hard when I haven’t labeled them with a specified Quirk. I wanted to leave it up to you guys to give them the attributes they have in your minds without spoon-feeding you every single choice (Y/N) makes. Sooooo, it suffers a little bit with the repetitiveness of this constant back and forth getting pulled every which way. It’s also difficult when there are so many characters to cover.

I am not complaining about it though! I am extremely proud of this story and am very happy with the outcome. I just hope you guys love it as much as I do. Plusss, it’s kinda nice to imagine being a princess stolen away at every opportunity by handsome/gorgeous suitors teehee!)

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Original Concept - [Mommabean’s OG Story] → Here

Part I - [My first addition] → Here

Part II → You’re here!

~

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Style of Story: Sequel Oneshot // This story is a continuation of Momma’s Yandere Class 1-A Purge short story. I have written a previous part to this, so please check it out to understand what is happening!; Yandere Purge! If you don’t know what that is, go take a look at @yanderemommabean’s original works of it on her page, all is explained there; Many of MHA’s adults are included here, but I don’t want to spoil who exactly is in the story, so that is all you get so far~!

Word Count: 24K

WARNING(s): Swearing; physical fighting and threats (threats aren’t made at (Y/N), nor are they hurt beyond bruising); there is a brief mention of rape and sexual assault—it is not gone into heavily or in detail, but you need to know it is there; mental and emotional manipulation to the reader; bending of MHA’s storyline and the events currently happening (mainly regarding the setting, timeline, and people’s aliveness LMAO) to fit (Y/N) into the story but bear with me; some unrealistic interactions are going to happen in this fic because to get everyone together in a setting like this is near impossible; All of Class 1-A’s students are aged up to third years & everyone is 18 or older // I AM WRITING THEM AS IF THEY ARE IN CLASS 3-A NOW FYI!

[PLEASE NOTE: I DO NOT SUPPORT YANDERE TENDENCIES IN REAL LIFE!!! Do not confuse my writing this subject as encouraging it, there is a difference between reading/writing yandere stories V.S real-life situations. Please, if someone in your life is behaving like a character(s) in this story (i.e. obsessive, possessive, controlling, abusive, psychotic, sociopathic, LIKE A WACKADOO, etc.) get immediate help! That behavior in the real world is not romantic, sweet, or NORMAL! Stay aware, stay safe.]

~

Unable to leave without one final gloat, Shinsou turns back to smirk at the students, “All of you were wrong earlier, by the way. It’s me, dumbasses.”

Suddenly, a cocky voice chuckles from behind the mind-controlling boy, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, kid~...”

As reluctant as Shinsou is to say this, a tiny shiver runs down his back. Coming from the busted-up entrance of the gymnasium, Aizawa’s voice rings out like a bell. Your current threat swivels around to face the intruder. Even though his recognizable voice is a dead giveaway, seeing him actually standing there in the rubble draws a sigh of relief out of you. You don’t know whether to cry, smile, or scream for his help; either way, it’s just a nice change of pace to see his usual disheveled appearance and relaxed stature. At least something has remained consistent on this hellish evening.

Though, something sensible clicks in your mind. Thinking back on all the strong-willed friends you lost in the fight against this disease, you realize there’s a strong chance that even your own teacher has fallen victim to its siren call. As much as you’d like to go running into his comforting embrace and wail about how horribly your classmates have been treating you the past few hours, you bite your tongue and stay complacent in Hitoshi’s arms. Not like you could voice many of your concerns with the makeshift gag still sat across your mouth.

“Damn,” Shinsou mutters to himself before perking up to meet his instructor's eye with a devious glint in his eye, “Mr. Aizawa. Good to see—,” Before the boy could finish his greeting, the stoic hero held up his hand, his palm facing Shinsou.

“Save the pleasantries. You’d think after all these years of one-on-one training you’d realize I can read you like an open book. Your expressions continue to give your intentions away too easily. So cut the crap.” Shinsou's false smile drops quicker than it appeared. Aizawa leisurely waltzes into the room, closing in on the both of you.

Aizawa continues his analysis with a sigh, “And I wouldn’t try that little gimmick with me. I’m not like my students over there,” he vaguely points behind the two of you to the group.

“I’m your mentor. All the tricks you have up your sleeve are hardly even interesting choices to me anymore. I should know, I taught them all to you, after all.” He chuckled to himself.

“Did you come here just to nag my ear off about how you’re so much better than me, or because you have something actually important to say? ‘Cause, if it's the former, I can’t stay and chat. I’ve got some pretty precious cargo in my hands at the moment.” Shinsou brags, hoisting you further up into his arms, forcing a garbled complaint from you.

“Watch your tone, brat.” Aizawa glares at the snarky comeback his student possessed. Hm. So, Hitoshi thinks he’s hot shit because he won against a handful of decently strong opponents? Well, that’s just fine. He’s used to putting cocky bastards in their place.

“I’ve come to offer you a deal of sorts. We can either speak about it rationally, or,” he shines a leering grin, “I can use my quirk on you, and you can say goodbye to the hold you have over your classmates right now. How do you think you’d fare against 19 pissed-off pro heroes?” This time, you can actually feel Shinsou shutter at the sinister tone your teacher leans into. His reaction makes sense. The idea of irrational, infected, superhuman, edgy teens hunting you down fighting isn’t a pleasant one. Not just one of them either, a whole damn fleet of them. You’d be shaking in your boots too.

“Since I’m nice, I’ll let you decide,” Aizawa has a bored look on his face again as he runs a hand through the inky mop of hair atop his head. A few seconds lurch by before Shinsou caves.

“Fine, old-timer. I’ll hear you out.” Shinsou reluctantly agrees. He knows he could take on a few of them at once in combat, but as soon as the heavy hitters join the fight—it’ll be over. He’d much rather join forces with his instructor than be betrayed by the greedy moochers residing in his class. Shinsou knows that if some of them had the chance, they’d steal you with no hesitation or regret. He’ll just have to sit and see what the idea Aizawa wants to propose is.

The two of them walk towards each other. A meeting held face-to-face in the middle of the gymnasium.

“I should honestly reprimand you guys for how shittily you’ve treated (L/N) this evening. It’s absurd how ragged you’ve been running them. Absolutely unacceptable. Maybe I should even expel the lot of you after the Purge ends.” Wait, Aizawa could see you too? What, is your peril being broadcasted on live television for the world to see or something?!

“Hey, don’t lump me with those barbarians,” Shinsou pulled back in a look of grievance, “I waited until everything was calm to strike. They were the ones who made (Y/N) run around like a headless chicken.” He tossed his head back to the hypnotized horde.

“Hm. We’ll discuss it as a class later.” Aizawa coughs into his fist.

“Fine. Now, what’s this deal you’ve thought up?” Shinsou prompts the conversation.

“Right. It’s about—,” Aizawa is interrupted by his cautious student.

“(Y/N). Am I right?” Shinsou jumps to the conclusion rather abruptly.

Aizawa glares, “Don’t interrupt someone while they’re talking, Shinsou. It’s rude.”

“But you did that to me not ev—,”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Aizawa purposefully cuts him off, “And yes. It’s about them.”

“Hmph,” Shinsou narrows his eyes at the mention of you, “what do you want with them?”

“Not quite the right question. Change that to more like what can we do for them,” Aizawa twists the words to better fit his narrative.

Intrigued, Hitoshi takes the bait, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is I don’t want to outright take them from you,” he shifts his weight to the other foot, “I want to make a deal to share them with you.”

Shouta continues, “Aoyama and his group had a good idea teaming up with Izuku’s crew. Working together, especially when the stronger piers can aid the weaker links, is a much more productive way of going about things. There’s safety in numbers.” Your body freezes up at his words. You connect the dots that he heard, or possibly even saw that whole ordeal. How? Where was he viewing from? Did he watch on a security camera? It’s a likely theory, the school is littered with them. You thought Denki killed the power earlier with his quirk. Or, with a more chilling idea, was he actually there? Physically in the vicinity? How was he nearby, could hear and see the whole event, and you didn’t notice him? Why didn’t he help you? Or, at least, intervene? Your mind is muddled with questions, but the two press on with their conversation.

“Sharing, huh? Thought you liked working alone.” Shinsou prodded, skeptical of the plan.

“Some missions call for an extra set of hands.” Aizawa cooly replied.

“I’m not sure. Not too big on the idea of letting go of them.” Shinsou pulled your bundled-up form closer to his chest. It’s like he’s a little kid—red in the face because of frustration, fighting to keep his stuffie all to himself as an adult asks him to share it with the other kids.

“I’m not asking you to fully let go of them, kid. Just enough so I can take care of them too. They’re a bit of a handful, as I’m sure you’ve no doubt figured out by now,” you whip your head to scowl at him and heatedly shout muffled curses at him, “Heh. My bad, kitten, but it’s true. The trouble your presence kicks up is a lot to handle, even for a pro.” You feel your face heat up in embarrassment at his words. Not that it wasn’t obvious before, but it’s safe to say he is infected as well.

“Plus, what will you do when you can’t control the rest of the students? You and I both know that your quirk doesn’t last forever, and your control is slowly dwindling away, even as we speak. I could help you fend them off, if it comes to it.” Shouta observed. He has a natural way of being extremely persuasive, doesn’t he?

Shinsou isn’t exactly thrilled to give you up, he’d much rather stake his claim on you by himself. His company should be more than enough to fill your time! He doesn’t want time with you to be shared with others he doesn’t approve of. Though…Aizawa isn’t exactly untrustworthy. Hitoshi definitely trusts him more than someone as hazardous as Bakugo, or as miserable to be around as Monoma. He’s a great teacher, even though he’s kind of a hardass. Someone he looks up to. Maybe they could give it a shot? After all, if it doesn’t work out, there’s still plenty of Purge time left for him to find somewhere else to hide and drag you off to when Aizawa isn’t looking.

“Okay. We’ll give your idea a go.” Shinsou begrudgingly complied.

“Good choice, kid.” Aizawa’s lips twitch upward into a minuscule grin. Yet again, your own fate is taken away from you as the two of them close in, grasp hands, and shake to signify the agreement.

“Ooohhh~! What a touching truce, cuties~,” a sugary-sweet voice curls around the boys’ conversation like a hazy morning fog.

“Huh—!” Shinsou isn’t fast enough to react to the intruder as he feels all his senses numb. A dreadfully sweet smell, the same kind of sugary tang that was laced throughout the woman’s voice, invades his nose. It should be disgusting, it should make him sick to his stomach, but the candied scent is nothing short of divine. It’s like nothing he's ever smelled before. It honestly makes him want to inhale more. Which is an action he subconsciously commits, sealing his fate. Shinsou’s legs grow wobbly as he starts to lose feeling all over his body. As unpleasant as he wants it to feel, as he begs it to feel, all he can recognize is a cozy warmth clouding his better judgment. Through the mental and physical struggle, he remembers you’re still sitting prettily in his swiftly weakening arms. He panics, afraid he’s going to, or that he has already dropped you. He glances down.

Well…you used to be there. You’re not anymore.

Shinsou groans, crashing to his knees. He scans the surrounding floor, looking for any trace of you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Good news is he didn’t drop you like an idiot. Bad news is someone else has their disgusting hands all over you. That thought makes him want to pick off his own flesh cell by cell, but there’s nothing he can do except lay on the ground and reluctantly drift in and out of consciousness.

“Too bad you’re not as lovely as our sweetheart here. Otherwise, you’d be my plaything too~,” the woman giggles, “But, oh well. Pleasant dream, honey~,” she coos at the purple-haired boy. You’re beyond floored at how quickly Shinsou was subdued, considering the quick work he made of the other students. Curious as ever, you shot your head back and forth to identify who stole the show this time.

The owner of the saccharine voice turned out to be none other than Midnight, your art history and overly-sexual pro hero mentor. She giggles to herself, watching her prey twitch and squirm in retaliation against her quirk on the floor, “While struggling normally is my favorite part of the foreplay, I wouldn’t advise it this time, dear~. Somnambulist isn’t easy to win against. It’s a much more potent sleep agent than your little quirk could ever dream of being.”

“Love that energy, Midnight! Smooth work,” a boisterous voice slices through your eardrums. You cringe at the volume, recognizing that borderline shriek. The person who is now capturing your body is Present Mic! What the hell are all three of your teachers doing here?! Shouldn’t they be like normal people and hide from the Purge?

As if reading your mind, Aizawa coughs to grab his coworkers’ attention, “That was completely unnecessary of you two. A little excessive too. I told you both I could handle the situation on my own. What’re you doing here?”

“Jeez! So cold!” Mic’s voice danced up and down in pitch, “Don’t be so frosty with us, Eraser! We just wanted to help!”

“Yes,” Midnight purred, the click click of her skyscraper-length stilettos stabbing the shellacked ground echoed across the rubble-covered floor, “you think us so shallow! You act as if we thought you couldn’t take care of this, dear. All we believed was it’s nice to have some support on the field, yes~?”

Aizawa, always as sharp as a knife, caught onto their plan effortlessly, “You two just couldn’t wait to get your grubby hands on them, could you?” The two opposing teachers choked on the air in their lungs as he saw through their lies. They fumbled the next few words that streamed out of their mouths, trying desperately through the stutters to justify their cause and deter his wit.

“I see. Hmm…whatever. Either way, you two never fail to overdo it,” Aizawa grumbles to himself, his chin sinking further into the comfort of his scarf, “I guess I’ll need some assistance dealing with the rest of my students over there. They won’t remain hypnotized for much longer now that Shinsou’s down—I’d rather not have to start a physical fight when there’s no need.”

“Oooh~,” Midnight purred, slinking over to the slowly reawakening crowd, “leave this to me, loves~!” The woman proceeded to unleash another plum of her drunkening quirk right as the class snapped out of their haze. You watched as they fell one by one to the floor in sudden exhaustion. Even the strong-willed one couldn’t escape the fate of her noxious gas, dropping limply to the floor in a dreamless slumber.

“Aww, they’re so sweet when they’re not getting in our way.” Mic snickered.

“Mic. Watch it,” Aizawa’s laid-back indifference swiftly shifted into his scary steely gaze as he warned his rambunctious coworker to stop his prattling.

“Whaaaat~??? You gotta admit, your hooligans sure made our night a lot harder!” Hizashi pouted in frustration.

‘When am I gonna catch a break from these…these…wait. What…the…,’ your thoughts slowly lose their path in your head, your mind-numbing and slipping away from coherent ideas. Your limbs feel like the thickest cement in the world when you try to move them. It’s too tough, too much work—and sleeping sounds like a fantastic idea. You’re just so tired. You start to heave for oxygen as if your lungs can never get enough air inside of them. You’re trying so hard to stay awake because you know in the back of your brain as delicious as stopping your fighting to rest sounds, something doesn’t feel right. You can’t remember why. Eventually, it becomes too difficult to keep your head up on your own, so you rest it against Mic’s open shoulder.

Hizashi immediately stops bickering against the stoic man in front of him as he feels your head plop onto his shoulder. Now that his attention is drawn back to you, he realizes you weren’t squirming around as much as he’d expected you to. He knows even past the lingering virus flooding his veins you wouldn’t give in to their advances so easily—as nice as that would have been—so he devotes all his attention to your slumped frame.

“Hey, you alright, doll?” he cranes his head down to catch your unfocused eyes. He jostles the shoulder you were resting on a bit, trying to reel you back from wherever your mind had floated off to, and that seemed to help a little. You tried to talk, but the gag prevented any words from coming out. Catching the barrier, he beckoned his partner in crime over with a quick tilt of his head and a quiet, “Help me get this thing off their mouth, Shouta.”

Without hesitation, your concerned homeroom teacher stepped over and peeled off the tape as gently as he could. Your mouth now freed, you let out an unconscious whine of relief, showing a small bit of happiness at having some bit of freedom back.

“What did you say, sweets?” Mic pressed yet again.

“Mmhn…I…uhm…mmm…nnh,” you mindlessly babbled in a soft voice.

“Come on, (Y/N). How do you feel right now?” Aizawa coaxed, his worry over you hiking higher at your unresponsiveness.

“Hmmm…just…tired…I think…mnnn,” Your eyes couldn’t stay open. They opted to flutter close every time no matter how much Mic shimmed around in an attempt to keep you conscious.

“Tired. Hizashi—Midnight’s quirk.” Aizawa said as he caught Hizashi’s fear-filled gaze. Both of their anxiety floated back down at the deduction. You must’ve breathed in too much of the secondhand smoke of the pro hero’s quirk. After all, it is quite potent against those who haven’t experienced it much before. Mic’s jostling changed into more of a rocking motion, trying to lull you further into that blissful rest.

“Ohhhh. Honeycakes! That’s okay—it’s perfectly fine if you need some rest. It’s been a tough day for our snuggle bunny,” he uttered, affectionately nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

“I heard you say my name, Eraser. What’s…oh!” Midnight stopped her sentence when her eyes fell on you. Then, all she could do was squeal at the sight of your sleepy state. She shoved Aizawa out of the way, bent down to your level, and squeezed herself as close to you as she could. She was giggling and chirping in delight at how “adorable” and “absolutely, irresistibly, undeniably cute” you were.

“Awwwwhn~~~!!!” her voice curled up in pitch, her fingers smoothing your loose hairs behind your ear and stroking down your warm cheek, “You are just the sweetest lil’ thing~!! Mommy’s precious angel~. What’s happened, Zashi?” Midnight tilted her gaze up to the blond for an explanation.

He grinned, “Just breathed too much of your quirk in, s’all.”

Midnight loftily snickered, “I see. Glad we were here to take care of them!” In all honesty, she’s beyond pleased that out of any one of her coworkers, her quirk affected you the most. In a way, she saw that as she had the most influence on you—or, in other words, the most power over you. In her eyes, she saw it as you giving yourself to her. Willingly and unafraid. Midnight’s heart is cartwheeling and running laps because she sees this as you caring about her so much that you’d serve her in such a magnificent way. She could eat you up and still be searching for seconds. You’re just perfect for her in every way, shape, and form. Aizawa’s nagging drags her out of her less than innocent desires over you filling her head.

“You need to be more careful about how much of your quirk you release in the future, Midnight.” Aizawa scolds, but scorn is practically nonexistent in his voice. It’s hard to be angry at the effects you’ve been put under when the outcome makes you look so helplessly cute. He’d never admit it, but he’s envious of her quirk, when it can turn you so easily into this version of yourself. The dilated, doe-eyed look your eyes hold as they drift up to see him makes the words die a little in his throat. Perhaps the lecture he was going to give her can wait a little.

“Ahh, I will, Eraserhead. But first, we should head off for that safe spot we arranged with the others.” Midnight commented towards the men while still keening over your dopey state.

“W…Wait,” you grumbled out in a meek voice, “noo…no. I d-don’t…,” your words fell off into babbling mumbles again. It was torture to try and evade her quirk’s effects like this, but you were steadfast in wanting to fight. To flee their unwanted embrace and be alone. But all they did was coo at your brave efforts. Oh, they knew just the perfect things to say to make you feel like you were a mere baby to them. How inadvertently insulting.

“Ssh shh shh~. Awh, I know, honey~. You just feel so tired~,” Midnight sang in a baby-talk tone of voice, brushing the top of your head with the palm of her hand. It was weird, you couldn’t figure out if she saw you as her child or prey. Maybe both. That scares you. Maybe you don’t want to find out any more.

“Don’t worry, sweetie! We’ve got you,” though less scary than the woman currently pinning you, Mic’s mischievous lilt of tone didn’t skate by your observative nature. His eyes seem…darker than when you’d looked at them during one of his happy-go-lucky lectures. Like he was hiding the truth of his words behind a cobweb-like veil of deceit. In fact, Mic was resembling a conniving spider—which made you the ditzy butterfly falling for his web of a trap.

Lethargic and thoroughly worn out from both her quirk and all the running you’ve done, you finally give up. Your body feels warm and tingly, making sleep all the easier to give in to. As darkness flooded your vision and your consciousness finally dove away, Aizawa’s voice filled your ears, “See you soon, (Y/N).”

~ Timeskip ~

Sick. That’s all you felt as the darkness that consumed your thoughts and vision slowly faded. Sick to your stomach. Aching all over. You felt like you were a flimsy shirt thrown into a clothes dryer and left to spin over and over again for three cycles too long.

You tilted your head a bit and promptly groaned at the wave of nausea that swamped your brain. Such a subtle movement caused your whole world to crash sideways into an abysmal painscape. It was like you were zipping around on the shittiest, most rickety roller coaster you’d ever rode. You wanted nothing more than to get off.

All this to say—ow. What the fuck, brain? Why do you hurt me so? That’s all your mind could conjure up at the moment—insults to your own organs—because it hurts too much to think rationally. That was one hell of a shitty rest. It has to be one of the top five worst naps you’ve ever taken. You’ll have to whine about it to Denki after class today, maybe you’ll get some sympathy candy for your brave efforts. Denki…why does it feel like something important happened that he was a part of? Hmm…you can’t put your finger on it right now. Everything’s too drowsy at the moment for logic to be considered. Your eyes are still begrudgingly shut as you twist your torso around, trying to get comfortable again.

That’s the moment you started to become more aware of the outside world around you. Noises of chatter hung in the air like a nagging mosquito. The more you paid attention to the continuous sounds, the more irritating they became. Who was talking so damn much, and why were they making it your problem? Couldn’t they see you were a sick person in need of some goddamn peace and quiet? But, that’s just Class 3-A life, you suppose. None of them ever know when to shut the fuck up. Well, this time, they’d learn! They’d get a piece of your “hungover” mind.

“Oi…,” you grunted out, a snarl vehemently leaking into your tone, “Can’t you guys pipe down?! I’m sorta in the middle of trying to sleep off a nasty headache.”

Maybe your words stung the culprits a bit too much as you heard the room slow to a deathlike silence. No blistering insults were flung back at you from the resident hellhound of Class 3-A Bakugou, no chortles from the jokesters of the bunch, no profuse apologies from the worrywarts—nothing. Just…silence. I mean, you guess that’s the result you wanted; but the tense atmosphere you created is rapidly making you regret your flippant decision.

The encroaching fear made your mind real back to the very moment you woke up. You began rational plotting out the questions that swarmed your mind like hornets to their nest. Wait, where were you again? What time is it? Why do you feel so ill? Why can’t your brain remember what the date is? Something really important was happening before you passed out related to time…passed out. Hold on—that’s right, you passed out!

What the fuck.

You passed out due to what—no…due to who?

Unease finally getting the better of you, you peeped up again, but presenting a much meeker tone this time, “U-Um…guys? Look, I’m…God, I’m sorry for lashing out. I just—my head hurts like hell, I’m sore all over my everywhere, and I don’t know what’s—haannhh…ow, ow, ouch.” As you spewed out the poorly constructed apology, you steadily sat up from whatever hard surface you’d been resting on. The stiff rest stop made you all that more unnerved; it sort of felt like you were on a metal autopsy table. Cold and jarring. As if you were a poor little frog being dissected for all the insatiably curious students to see. It made you want to be swallowed whole by the floor just to escape the distress of the situation. God damnit, why is it still so hard to open your eyes?! They felt like the heaviest slab of lead welded over your eyelids. You forced them open.

Overlooking the blurriness of your vision, you could immediately tell by the general shape of the people standing in front of you that you weren’t in the presence of your beloved classmates like you thought you were.

There were multiple people in the darkened room, all with varying heights and sizes. There weren’t twenty people like how many there are in your class; their numbers were closer to ten or so. Plus, the colors of their outfits didn’t match with your friends’ hero suits you’d come to be extremely familiar with. However, you did recognize the colors and remembered who they belonged to. The answer chilled you to the bone.

You didn’t speak up again in the presence of most, if not all of, your mentors. Yes, your mentors. The adults you interacted with practically every day; who taught you every tactic you knew, who helped you to become a capable hero in the pro world. In fact, you didn’t just not talk, you slumped into yourself a bit. You were afraid. Scratch that—you were beyond afraid. You’d seen, and fought, firsthand against their wrath before. You’ve watched their fights broadcasted on the television, through shaky personally caught videos on the Internet posted by petrified civilians. You’ve worked alongside a few of them through missions and treacherous situations. Hell, you actually battle against one for the right to earn your hero license! That was a tough day, but you’d made it by the skin of your teeth—more than likely only winning because of the unimaginably heavy weights that shackled them as handicaps. In short, they were barbaric beasts on the field. Now…you’re face-to-face with their rage.

Let’s all send a brief prayer for yourself. Maybe your death will be swift and your afterlife pleasant if you beg hard enough.

“My, my, my~,” a sultry voice sang in your right ear, making you shriek at the intrusion of your personal bubble, “such a naughty-mouthed little pet~! Tell me, what brute taught you to speak to your superiors in such a disrespectful way?” It was Midnight again. She was always one to breach your boundaries, whether you wanted her to or not.

She cupped your jaw with one of her hands, pinching and squeezing your gooey cheeks with the other for her pleasure, “Ooooh, precious! How’s your whittle head~?” she cooed while smushing. She wiped away a small bit of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth, making you feel that much more like a ditzy baby. The way she played with you really did remind you of a child messing around with a delicious treat of springy mochi. Perhaps that was what you were to the ravenous woman, a delicacy to be devoured whole. You shivered in fear again.

Another person from across the room let out a high-pitched whistle, one that indicated astonishment or feeling impressed, “Wow! Brat’s got some spunk to ‘em! Good to know they haven’t switched up since we last spoke.” You weren’t as familiar with that voice as you were with your homeroom teachers, but it did strike a chord in your memory. Their youthful cheer didn’t resemble the dread-filled boredom Aizawa’s held, but they didn’t sound crude enough to be another student. Your vision clearing further was the only thing that gave their mystery identity away. It was Power Loader! It feels like forever since the two of you even acknowledged one another. Either way, he’s here now and fully decked out in his hero gear. The heavy equipment gave you a unique foreboding feeling that his abilities weren’t just all that meets the eye.

“Midnight, step aside, please.” A mellow voice takes control of the conversation. Midnight looks over her shoulder in disdain, as if the very notion of her being politely asked to leave your side is the most disrespectful thing someone could have asked her to do, but it seems that whoever popped the question meant real business. She stepped aside with a huff of frustration, mumbling under her breath curses, and something along the lines of ‘the gall’.

Once she moved, the requester hopped onto the table where you sat. They pushed into your personal space as well. You opted to lean back as much as the encroacher would allow you. From the astronaut-resembling helmet that donned their head and the puffy jacket they wore, you came to the obvious conclusion that this was 13, another member of the faculty here at UA.

She moved your head—left to right, up and down, and in a full circle. She checked all around the front of your body, and basically anywhere that you allowed her to get close to. 13 looked back deeply into your eyes before twisting back to face the bunch, “They don’t appear to be physically hurt on the outside. No scrapes, cuts, sprains, or anything broken. All that I could really deduct was their dilated pupils, meaning the effects of Somnambulist are still present,” 13 whirled forward to you, “Feeling at all hazy, woozy, or tired, (Y/N)?”

You simply stared back at the expressionless black mask 13 wore. You didn’t know what to say—half because you were uncomfortable at how close she was, and half because you were still bracing yourself to get your ass beat by the less merciful of the teachers. Your mind is drawing to blanks as you’re frozen with your jaw left hanging open.

“(Y/N)?” 13 snaps her fingers in front of your face, semi-dragging you out of your tizzy, “Hello? How are you feeling, dear?”

Ignoring the uncalled-for nickname, you wobbled your head about to snap out of whatever stupor you were stuck in, “Aaaah…um…good. I think. Still…vision’s still a bit blurry, head’s kinda fuzzy, but it’s okay. I can’t really feel my legs yet, I guess.” You tried kicking your feet back and forth, and while you could see them sway, you didn’t feel the sensation of your tendons pulling the limbs.

“Alright, that’s okay.” 13 dismounts the desk to face the crowd, “They’ll be fine. Just give their system time to recover from the grogginess. Next time, Midnight, go easier with how much of your toxins you release! They could’ve gotten severely hurt if they inhaled too much.” 13 scolds the tall woman.

Midnight scoffs, “Ugh! Why, I would never intentionally hurt my love bug like that! I swear, you act like I haven’t been controlling my quirk for my whole life!”

“Midnight, we have to set an example for our students, and lying isn’t how we do that. You should acknowledge you do go overboard sometimes,” craggy words tumbled through Midnight’s attempt to save her ass. Off to her side is the stony fortress of a hero, Cementoss, the one who spoke against her. While he is a man (or is he a rock? You’re not too sure even after all these years being a student under him) of few words, he does have the occasional snarky comeback in his vocabulary when he isn’t prattling off haikus and other unheard of analogies for life’s troubles you haven’t heard before. You’re pretty sure that half of what he says is made up on the spot, and you’ve occasionally tested how far you could push his knowledge before by asking him tough questions like “What is the meaning of life?” or “How did the universe come into being?”.

Before Midnight could pulverize the stone man into pebbles, the final guest you could see hanging in the back of the room piped up, “Can we please stop fumbling around like nimrods and get back to the matter at hand?” Inky, sludgy, and methodical in his dialect, it was no shock that its owner was the shadowy hero known to you as Ectoplasm. You’d interacted with him even less than the others, but you weren’t oblivious to his strength. You’d seen the fight between Tsu and Tokoyami against this predator, and you are happy to admit that he wasn’t your enemy on the field that day.

After briefly scanning the room once more, it seemed that everyone who was there had spoken up. Well, except for Aizawa and Present Mic, they seemed to be having a private conversation with themselves. Glances they threw in your direction, no matter how embarrassingly obvious Mic was being or the tenuousness of Aizawa’s, made it hard to ignore their scalding stares. It was borderline disturbing to see Mic so stationary. You wished he’d stop freaking you out and start yelling in your face like he always does. At least that would be one thing that hadn’t changed with the Purge.

“Precisely. Where were we? Please remind us, Ectoplasm.” Cementoss, equally over the distractions going on, encouraged the conversation forward.

“We were talking about our options. What to do for the rest of the Purge. How to proceed with the plan.” he spoke as if it was the most obvious thing that could have been explained. Plan? What plan was he talking about?

“‘Listen, we’ve gone ‘round and ‘round with these ideas for over an hour now,” HUH?!?! EXCUSE YOU, BUT WHAT DID HE SAY?! There was no time to stop their conversation to ask if Power Loader was or wasn’t exaggerating the time that had passed as he pushed on, “Why can’t we just go? I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this room.”

“What, and storm out here with no strategy? Yeah, that’s the best idea we’ve heard tonight.” Aizawa finally tossed his opinion into the ring and—surprise, surprise—it’s another gripe.

“We do have a plan—and a solid one at that! I just said it’s all we’ve been discussing ever since we stepped foot into this bloody room!” Power accused.

“No,” 13 cut in, “the plan you’re talking about is the one we’ve fine-tuned to get out of the school. What Eraser’s referring to is what we’re going to do once we leave the school grounds.” She stepped over to you while giving her speech and wipes your face down with a damp, cool towel. You’re not sure where she dispensed it from, but you supposed that since she specializes in search and rescue missions, she’s bound to have supplies of the like to help in stressful situations built into her hero suit.

“Easy! We run and gun our way out until we find a safe spot! A simply perfect plan. Okay? Let’s go.” Power said with finality.

“For being a seasoned pro, you’re much too antsy. You’re rushing this operation. If you keep sprinting through the important discussions, there will be major consequences.” Cementoss threatened. Power scoffed at the man’s slightly pretentious behavior.

“Think about it,” 13 tried to reason, “There are hundreds of pro heroes out there. Half infected, half not—give or take a handful. For however many pros around out there, there are at least six times as many civilians out there who are either running for their freedom or others who are trying to take that from their darlings. It is too risky to bring them out into a world like that.” Them? Hold on, do they mean you?! No way in hell are you being taken out into the shit storm that the big city has become! You’ve seen how the Purge demolishes the city in years prior. You saw what the news predicted it would be like tonight. Chaos. Pure chaos filled with dangerous, virus-infected people and villains simply trashing the place because they are able. You came into the school to seek shelter in one of the safe rooms to avoid the city, and they want to bring you into it? They can’t do this to you! Have they completely lost it?

Well, you knew that much, but still!

“He’s right, though,” Present Mic finally spoke up from his unusual voicelessness, “We can’t stay here all night waiting for some miracle to spring up. We’ve gotta take some action.” His shoulders buckled inward to show his agitation.

“And no one is saying that we will stay, Mic.” Cement’s sensible attitude never fails to shine through the stress of a tough discussion.

“But you are saying that. You know it…because you’re afraid. We all are afraid.” Mic grabbed everyone's attention because of how softly his words came out.

“I mean, we all know who exactly is out there,” Mic somberly stood and walked over to your side. You wanted to shimmy away from how close he got, but you chose to sit still to hear what else he had to say, “It’s not an if or maybe situation—he is looking for them. Maybe staying in the school has some perks. At least here he can’t get to them without breaking down a few thick walls.” At Mic’s dreadful outlook, everyone’s prepared responses fell into stifling silence. Who is he talking about? Why do you feel a shiver scaling up your spine at the faceless adversary? All this anticipation is going to make you go insane for real this time.

“It’s true. But UA isn’t safe either. We’re not alone and we aren’t the only ones in this building who’re interested in them. Those confounding kids of yours are still around, Aizawa.” Ectoplasm countered. Finally finding the place in the conversation where you can speak, you took your chance.

“Are you talking about the rest of my class?” you breathed out. The teachers spun their heads to give you their full attention. It creeped you out—their devotion to hearing you speak as if it was gospel—but you guess this virus is handy when you need to grab the attention of a bustling room.

“Glad you can still find your voice, sweets.” Mic praised you with a gentle pat on the top of your head. A total switch up from his gloomy personality just prior.

“And, yes, we are.” Ectoplasm sighed, sending one of his clones to your side. The clone didn’t do much except lay their hand on your head and brush your hair back, “They've proven to be quite…driven in their resolve to keep you by their sides.”

“Meaning they’re being a real pain in our—,” Mic’s interrupted by Aizawa’s scarf strangling the bottom half of his face to cease the loud man’s babbling.

“Hmmn, you guys take everything so personally,” Midnight bemoaned, propping her spike-heeled shoes against the side of one of the many desks around, “the children are just playing together, ‘is all! In fact, they’re making this night much more fun for me hehe~.” You cringed, and the only word running through your mind was ‘creepy.’

“Yes. Be kind, Mic. They haven’t been a bother for some time now.” Cementoss spoke with a grateful tone of voice.

“Well, it’s no wonder they haven’t been.” Power Loader huffed while resting his body back onto a nearby table.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You shifted up further to give the conversation your full attention. Once you were up, a slight tightness on your wrists captured your distracted brain. You glanced down and saw binding on your wrists. They were bound with tape. Tape…oh! That’s right! You were taped up by Sero before this shit show happened! You scanned your body up and down and didn’t see any of his tape around anything but your hands. It’s gone from your mouth too since you can speak to the teachers. You guess you’re thankful that they at least gave you the freedom to wiggle your legs around. Nonetheless, you’re still unforgivable-level mad at them for being dicks and holding you hostage.

“He means that ever since Shinsou caught them under his hypnosis, and Midnight leaked her Somnambulist to put them under, they’ve been sound asleep in the gymnasium.” Ectoplasm’s words curl up like a snake wrapping around its helpless prey. You feel less comforted by Ecto’s clone lovingly stroking your head now. That means no one else has been looking for you ever since Aizawa, Mic, and Midnight took you. Goody gumdrops.

“Yea’,” a new, twangy voice plucks into the conversation, “and it seems they ain’t rearin’ up again for some time.” It echoed from the entrance of the room a few feet ahead of your spot by the windows, so you craned your neck to the side to see past the teachers blocking the way.

His foreign accent was a big hint, but if there was any confusion as to who exactly was speaking, his masked appearance confirmed his identity. Snipe was perched against the door frame, slacked back against the wooden frame, and bending his knee to rest one of his spurred cowboy boots on the frame as well. Since when did he get there? You don’t recall seeing him when you scanned the room earlier. What was even more surprising was that on the other side of the doorframe rested Vlad King, Class 3-B’s homeroom teacher. You watched him side-eye his coworkers and, opposite to the rest, he stayed silent. Quiet, analytical. You haven’t interacted with him as much as you have with the others since he’s not one of your main teachers, but you’re certain from the way he and Aizawa have this sort of one-sided rivalry going on between them that he’s not one to be taken lightly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” barked Present Mic, “what are you two doing in here? You’re supposed to be guarding the door!”

“We decided to come in when we heard you lot yappin’. Wanted to see if our blossom was alright.” Okay, these corny nicknames were getting to be a little much—and it was becoming hard to not laugh at them when Snipe’s Western country-ass voice tried to say it so seriously.

“Yeah, right. You just wanted to see them.” Power Loader grumbled on his lonesome. Jealous much?

“Great, the peanut gallery’s all here.” you chuckled to yourself. Honestly, it was a smartass remark that was only meant for your ears to hear, but you should’ve known better than to mutter in the presence of such high-profile, analytical, pro heroes.

“Watch your tone, (L/N). I’ve taught you better than to speak to your superiors like that.” Aizawa’s steely gaze came to life, an intimidating red glow directly pointed your way. His mop of bushy, black hair billowing up to dangle in midair. It drifted about like a bed of kelp swaying with the brush of the ocean’s currents. All the built-up energy you didn’t realize was coursing through your veins came to a staggering halt, The strength permeating your limbs immediately drained. You’ve been under the influence of Aizawa’s quirk before when you were caught in the mix of his frustrations at the pranksters of your class, so this wasn’t an unexplored feeling, but it was still jarring to be stripped of all your powers you so flippantly take for granted.

As you looked around, you realized your statement was wrong—not all of the teachers were there. Not apologizing for telling the truth, you continued your comments as though Aizawa had never threatened you, “Ixnay that—not everyone's here. Where’s the rest of them?” Aizawa sighed and released you from the hold of his power when he realized you were simply ignoring his wrath. Honestly? He tips his hat to you for the response. Avoiding confrontation is sometimes the best course of action.

“Huh? Oh! Ha ha, you’re so clever! We brought it up briefly to the other staff members but—,” Power Loader had begun, but he was soon interrupted.

“They either had no interest or were busy with other plans for the Purge.” Vlad finally spoke up from his dark corner. Right, you remember why you don’t speak to him all that often. He scared the living shit out of you. At least you can have a somewhat decent conversation with Aizawa. With Vlad King, it’s always cold-shoulders and overdramatic frustration to simple questions you ask him. Those brief few words reeked such deadly poison, as if saying that anyone could ignore you was a crime against humanity. His facial expression showed his irritation, a frown stretching down his worn features and a frustrated crinkle cut between his eyebrows.

“Thanks. I was in the middle of getting to that.” Power snarked at the behemoth hero.

“We asked All Might if he wanted to come along with us,” 13 chirped, “but he declined as well. We don’t know exactly where he is, but he’s around.”

“Yeah! Not to mention how he responded! Something like,” Mic made his voice stretch lower into his register with a profound, macho gusto, and a large smile—an All Might smile—grew on his lips, ""HA HA! I appreciate the offer, friends, but I will be alright on my own! Good luck to you! I am off!”, and ran off to who knows where. Weird!”

“You guys never let me say the important parts of the stories.” Power scowled to himself.

“Gotcha,” you acknowledged the length of explanation, “So…what happens now?” you prodded.

“Now,” Midnight coos at a distance that is yet again too close for comfort, “we get to have fun with you~.”

“WHAT?! I’m not some class pet. Find a guinea pig somewhere else!” you wriggled away from the dastardly woman.

“Endearing how much control you think you have over the situation,” Aizawa smirked. You hated his comfort in the idea of a fictional complacency, one that was only caused by your own fear of speaking against them, “Stop playing naive, (L/N).”

In an effort to distract yourself from his stare, you pressed, “What’s the big plan after all this then?”

“After what, dearest?” Midnight mused. She reached a hand to your hair and softly massaged your shoulders. Quite done with the games they played, you shook her lingering touches off.

“After the Purge is over. What do you plan to do with me?” You wanted to add a sassy ‘obviously’ somewhere in that question, but you held your tongue for now. We’ll see how long that lasts.

“Sweetie~, we plan to have you as ours!” Midnight purred, circling around you like a beast going in for the kill. You rolled your eyes—how vexing can this woman be?

“Wow! That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh.” You threw out a half-assed pity laugh for the pro. You looked at the other pros for some kind of confirmation that Midnight was just being her usual lofty self, but when no comforting gaze reached your eyes, you felt your grin crumble.

“Eh…heh. Alright, that’s how we’re playing this. All the unfunny jokes aside—Hell freaking NO am I letting you lot take me anywhere. I’m not going willingly! I kick, I scream, and I do bite. I’m feral, bitc—,” You managed to squirm hard enough that you actually broke away from whoever was holding you the tightest in the ball of limbs. You slid off the glossy table and slunk back a few feet. It was just spacious enough for you to finally get a deep breath in from the overwhelming physical affection but you were nowhere near a safe distance from the psychos of UA.

“Willingly isn’t an issue. Plenty of us have quirks that can make you submit easily. Resistance will only produce failure for you. I don’t want to be forced to hurt your miniscule feelings.” Vlad gruffed out. He truly reminded you of an English bulldog—grumpy and hard-headed to the extreme.

“Oh, be sweeter, Vlad! Don’t scare the poor thing before we’ve had our fun.” 13 tried to reason with the ice-cold man.

“I am being sweet.” Vlad defended.

“No, you’re being a wet blanket,” Mic advised with a casual whistle.

“Shut up.” The white-haired man huffed out a pointed wind of air. With tusks as sharp as nails protruding out of his mouth, harsh huffs of breath that escaped his nose, and rising anger visibly seeping from his form, it made the image of him in your mind morph from cute, grumpy bulldog to a ravenous warthog.

“No, you shut up!” Power Loader lept on the chance to start bickering with Vlad King as he was still irritated at him for stealing his thunder.

“Girls, girls! You’re both pretty. Now, can we please get back to the much more pleasant person of interest?” Midnight tried to get the boys to back off, but her joke only made them that much more infuriated.

“Who’re you calling pretty?!” Vlad whipped his head over to the purple-haired sex fiend.

“Fix your words, Midnight, or I’ll give you something to be sorry for.” Vlad reared in, sneering at the woman something fierce.

“Here we go,” Aizawa muttered while shrinking further into his tall scarf tower.

“Nice one, Nemuri.” Hizashi bumped her with his elbow.

“I apologize…for you being a whiny BITCH!” You could practically see the overexaggerated sweat drop slip down the rest of the teachers’ heads as the beast of a man went off the rails from Midnight’s claim. He started stomping around, bellowing and nearly tossed a table across the room. You stood there and just…watched the man go from a professional, stoic, respectable instructor to a crybaby throwing the most dangerous tantrum known to mankind.

Guess he didn’t appreciate being called pretty.

Would he have preferred gorgeous?

That joke, while absolutely hilarious and should have been told for at least someone to hear its magnificence, you held in your throat so you didn’t get bitch slapped by a heavy office chair and receive a one-way ticket, all-expense-paid trip to God’s doorstep. You used the teacher’s being distracted with trying to calm the raging boarman down as an opportunity to scan for available exits. They were currently blocking the only door in or out, so that way out was an absolute no-go. You looked behind you and saw another door, but it didn’t look like it would provide a fruitful escape. By process of elimination, it would most likely be another closet that had no exit—and you DID NOT want to be stuck in one of those again. It was a miracle that the one earlier tonight had one! You do not want to try your luck again with much more threatening opponents in your way.

Inspecting further, there didn’t appear to be any other doors around to scamper out of. The last option you had was the large pane windows facing the outside, normally providing you with quite a beautiful bird’s eye view of the city. While it was an escape route, the task of escaping after exiting would be less than ideal. You were currently at least six storeys off of the ground, and you couldn’t guarantee that your quirk would save you from that high of a drop. Plus, the roof was still at least a few floors upwards, so you couldn’t hang out of the window and easily grab a railing. Not that you’d be sneaky enough to do that without alerting the bickering party of adults in front of you. You weren’t sure where else you could turn to avoid a serious temper tantrum.

Shatter.

A window to the side of where you were standing abruptly splintered away. A rush of the chilled night air flooded the room with one thorough sweep. The infiltration was not caused by the window simply breaking due to a strong gust of wind or a tree branch breaking the surface. No—it turned out to be a rather unwelcome intruder.

“Heyo~,” a certain bombshell blond’s lilting tone filled the thick tension in the boardroom. Your eyes zeroed in on the hero’s iconic ruby-red wings and instantly knew who it was. Hawks! You’d seen him in the field before from a distance, even captured his attention for long enough to have a brief conversation. A certain twist in your chest wrung out the breath filling your lungs when you thought about his suave nature that day.

You were there with your three main boys the day you’d met Hawks. You had just started working at Endeavor’s agency because of the generous offer provided to you by Todoroki during the Holiday party. It was certainly kind of him to extend his hand to you, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You tackled him in a hug, and you watched obliviously how he nearly short-circuited at the affection. Though the day you all met up to head off, Bakugou had been acting a little salty around Shoto that afternoon after discovering that he had reached out to you too to join them, but you figured it was just usual Bakugou. Always waking up on the angry side of the bed. Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell you it’s because none of them wanted to make fools of themselves in front of you. Him especially. You are quite oblivious to the “more-than-just-friends” affection they had for you, but Deku was happy keeping it that way. After a bit, the four of you had settled in together and met Shoto’s father.

No thanks to Bakugou’s “stellar” introduction with the pro, Endeavor had put his foot down to deny taking on other interns, other than his own son. Thankfully, hero work is never finished, as a villain attacked then and there. All of you sprung into action despite Endeavor’s denial, and that is when you saw it. Or, rather, him. Red spears descending from the sky like Valkyries swooping in to protect the weak. You saw soon enough that these weren’t spears, they were feathers. The winged hero, Hawks, aided Endeavor in taking down the crazed terrorizer effortlessly. No hesitancy or mercy. Not so much as a bead of sweat lining his forehead either. After recuperating, you and Izuku practically tackled the man in an effort to meet him.

In the staggeringly casual meeting, he was pleased to say he already knew about you from your close friend, Tokoyami. However, he pretty much overlooked the green-haired puffball as he stuck you down with his unnerving amber pools. Hawks suavely shared that he was especially excited to meet you specifically. We’re these most likely only sugar-coated words to get your heart racing for the notorious playboy? Rationally, absolutely. His ego knew no bounds—he’d do anything to get the fans swooning for his flippant affections. Yet, you fell for it nonetheless. You hopelessly played the perfect giddy fan as you devoured all his teasing remarks, his infatuation with your quirk, and his cocky winks. A peck of his lips strategically gifted to the back of your hand was given to no doubt solidify a good relationship, but you nearly passed out. You gushed at the attention before, and you probably would again. You were no different from any faces in his crowd of fans that he interacted with. Or so you thought.

He soon took off after meeting with Bakugou and Shoto briefly. You’d geeked out about the interaction afterwards to the boys. An blatant envy to Hawks’ ease at impressing the masses, you as well now included, made them stumble at their advances. Izuku buried his own jealousy at the hero by directing your attention back to what the rest of the day had planned, and it distracted him from the negative feelings too, thankfully. Shoto had crossed his arms and stood as a silent watcher to walk alongside you. You did catch that he was standing rather close to you. Bakugou only spat insult after insult about the bird brain and the hot-headed waste of a father, hoping that tarnishing the memory of Hawks in your mind would get your mind off of that loser and onto him. He soon cooled off, and became a bodyguard beside you, like Shoto, mumbling to himself about how “pointless” it was to chat with the likes of that douche.

You knew that this meeting was no accident. Hopefully, the hero is here to save you from this awful nightmare. Though, he didn’t show up alone.

“Hawks,” Snipe grumbled a rugged greeting, quite obviously ticked off that the snarky bastard was ruining their sanctuary, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, not here for any particular reason. Flyin’ around, stopping to smell the roses…,” he lolled his head to look right at you, a devilish smirk lining his strikingly handsome face.

“Inspecting suspicious activity in the area.” A velvety smooth voice strikes up from behind you. You jump and whip your head to the side to see the culprit. Laying a gentle, yet comforting, grip on your shoulder was the famous Rabbit Hero: Mirko. You hadn’t really gotten a chance yet to interact with her in your journey as an aspiring hero. You’d heard about her competitive nature through various interviews you’d seen her in. You’d never felt more like prey than now, underneath her sight. Nonetheless, she was even more stunning than the media could convey. Her white locks draped along your shoulder as she peered down over you, the faint scent of lavender and earthy rubble wafting into your senses. Rumi’s piercing blood-tinged irises looked down upon you with a satisfactory expression. The lingering glint of fire locked within her gaze guided you to understand that whatever was driving her on this mission to confront your captors was far from fizzling out.

You’d heard some about personal interactions with her from Bakugou and Midoriya when they worked with her in the field. Deciphering Bakugou’s turn of phrase you’ve come to be fluent in after all these years, you gauged that she wasn’t too bad of a coworker. He’d said she was strong and that she had a kick that was no joke. When Bakugou remembered something about the people he fought alongside, you knew they left some impression on him—good or bad. He did make a point to reiterate that she only “gets in his way”, but he regards everyone that way, so it’s not a huge concern. Midoriya mostly info-dumped about her quirk and every fighting tactic he’d thought up to either aid her or counter her, but you didn’t mind his ramblings. Animal-based quirks like hers were always intriguing to learn about, and you’d appreciated him taking the time to tell you all the information he’d drug out of the woman. They both agreed (shockingly) they would like to work with her again.

You asked some of the girls of 3-A what they thought of Mirko before, and were surprised when they all nearly trampled you in their freak-out fangirling over the woman. Hagakure gushed over how much she loved what Mirko was doing for the community of women in the pro hero society. She adored how Mirko showed the world that women weren’t just damsels in distress; that the power and strength they hold mentally and physically is one to behold. Mina giddily hugged your arm as she declared the hero gave her confidence to not hide any of her more eccentric or “out-of-the-norm”, as she put it, features. Momo allowed herself to become vulnerable as she shared how Mirko taught her how if others don’t have confidence in your abilities you have to be your own advocate. Perfectionism was rampant in the poor girl, and she had such high expectations for herself. Seeing Momo learning to be more gentle with herself was comforting.

 Jiro and Uraraka explained all the ways she really was a fantastic figure for women, not simply aspiring heroes, to look up to. Strong, snarky, never afraid to throw a quick insult or punch to any ignorant when she needed to. Mirko was not known to be a passive presence; she made sure you know exactly what her opinion on any matter is when she gets in your face to tell you it. Since she wasn’t attached to an agency, most would think she’d be an outcast, but they’d be wrong. The girls told you how she was a lone wolf type, that she’d rather handle everything her own way. You admired her for that. Mirko’s belief of not fitting in with the crowd to instead be at the front lines of encouraging others to break the mold society says you should fit is one to be coveted.

“How’s it going, (Y/N)?” Mirko warmly asked you. You froze when you heard your name fall from her lips. How did she know you? You’d never met face-to-face before in your life! She’s even prettier than the photos snapped by her paparazzi could try to convey.

“Are these guys giving you any trouble~?” Hawks ruffled your hair as he sprouted up next to you like a daisy in a sunny meadow. You felt your face heat up at their actions, not getting used to the unwavering attention of such prestigious members of the Hero Agencies. Also, they’re two of the most gorgeous people in all of Japan. Even a sparse glance in someone’s direction would be enough to make anyone crumple to their knees—nevermind that they’re actually addressing you. You were having a hard time standing up on your own, knees wobbly and jittery, your eyes bouncing back and forth between the two in a fumbling manner. All you could think about was not making a total fool of yourself in front of your heroes. That’s about when you realized you hadn’t responded to them, leaving everyone listening with bated breath at your silence.

You wanted to slap yourself for the silly star-struck reaction, “Oh! I–um…,”

“They’re fine, thank you very much.” Surprisingly, Cementoss’ usual composed tone took a frozen turn. Guess he didn’t appreciate the two of them being here. In fact, it looked to be that most of the teachers in that room didn’t care much for the pros being present, all of them having a crinkled up forehead and scowles dotting their lips. That, or the frustration is from the broken window. Whoops.

“They’d feel more fine if you’d back off.” Vlad King, who had finally calmed down, cautioned the duo. Though he’d cooled off his ramage, you could see the irritated vein popping out underneath his skin, so another outburst was sure to loop back around. Whether it was expressed in a hunched posture, snippy tone, or the expression on their faces; the teachers all agreed on one thing. These two were trouble and had to be escorted away from their darling now.

“Yeesh! What a tough crowd, Mirko!” Hawks overdramatically threw the back of his hand over his forehead. He leaned his body backwards, grasping his other hand over his chest where his heart lies, and wailed out in a helpless maiden-like tone. Oh, yeah. You forgot that he’s such a drama queen. It’s silly, but also somewhat charming, in a way.

“Ha! Seems so, Hawks. Hey, chill out, we’re only here to play babysitter, old timer.” Mirko snickered to herself. Hawks joined in her light-hearted teasing with a bright chortle of his own. His laugh formed from a cluster of tiny clicks rattling through his teeth.

“...What was that, little lady?” Vlad’s temper was never one to back down as he cracked his knuckles. You felt Mirko’s hand clasp tighter around your shoulder at Vlad’s choice of words. You could tell she wanted to go off on him and rip him to shreds both verbally and physically, but held her tongue. Now was not the time to start a war.

“Eh, don’t take it so personally, King! She was just pointing out the obvious~,” Hawks egged the man on. Seems to be Hawks didn’t agree with the “no war” idea. You were beginning to get a bit nervous with the pros’ language. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the boar man’s tantrum, as previously mentioned, so why were they purposefully lighting his fuse?! At least move you out of the way first before digging their own grave! Though, you might get pushed into it with them when you can’t dodge their crossfire.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 13 sneered at the shade.

“You’re all…wise from all your experiences,” words posing as carefully chosen by Hawks no doubt fired up the two more.

“But (Y/N) needs protection from a fresher-faced cast. If you catch our drift~,” Mirko finished for her quick-witted partner.

“That is why you’re all gathered, right? For the Purge?” Hawks anything but innocently asked the group. Those who weren’t lost in their own rage showed a glimpse of hesitation in the answer. Hawks, willing to take a mile from the inch they gave him, ran with their slip-up.

“So, it is true. Judging by the switch in your behaviors, and from that out of the ordinary hue in your irises, seems to me like this lot caught the illness. Probably from those students bulldozing through the school. Can you believe it, Mirko?” Hawks swiftly closed the little distance between you two by slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“I can. They’ve been in such close proximity, it’s no wonder they caught it. I’m just disappointed. They’re supposed to protect people like our lovely (Y/N) here from these incidents. Instead, they’re fueling the catastrophe Hmm. You must’ve been so scared running away from these shit excuses for teachers.” Mirko brought her hand to your cheeks and pinched them together to make your lips pout outward.

“Hey! You know that’s bull—,” Power Loader barked as he leaned across a nearby table.

“What were you sickos planning to do with them, huh? Make them your slave after this night,” Hawks unapologetically interrupted the man, a silence washing over the room at the question being sprung, “Force them to be at your beck and call for everything? Splay their body out to satisfy your needs whenever and wherever you wanted? Disgusting.” Hawks veered his body in front of yours to shield it with one of his huge red wings. The more he talked about what your captors would do to you after the Purge, the more fear reeved up to course through your veins. While thinking about the possibilities of what would happen after the Purge if you were caught, Hawks’ accusations had crossed your mind, but you tried to ignore them earlier. They wouldn't…they’d respect your wishes even if you…belonged to them after all this! They—not your friends, nor your teachers—wouldn’t do those horrible things to you.

And yet, based on everything that’s happened thus far…

You’re not sure anymore.

You shrunk into Mirko’s side deeper, wishing to disappear from the conversation of your fate entirely. You felt her wrap an arm around your waist, and you felt safer with the basically strangers than you had all night long with your long-time partners. You wanted to cry from the relief of finally having somewhere safe to turn. You held the tears back to see where their confrontations would lead.

You felt Mirko lead your stiff body with fleeting strides. She was obviously trying to give you an out, so you went willingly. Just let them do as they please. Anything to get out of this suffocating mess. Hawks caught on to her.

“How dare you try to make those foolish claims against us,” Aizawa began, rage climbing high in his heart. He reached for his infamous scarf and pulled the end piece out, preparing for his attack. Screw playing nice. Screw relying on others. Fuck letting these idiots walk all over him. The nerve of this flashy waste of space dictating him to be the kind of monster that would take advantage of you. You’d been in his life for so long now that he hardly even tries to remember the times without you and his other students. So many tough challenges your class has faced, and yet, each hurdle was leapt over with no hesitation. Your entire class had brought him such joy over the years through the sorrow. His kids. However, you and Shinsou undoubtedly claimed the prize to share the number one spot on his favorites list. You’d been so attentive and caring over him when he’d left you to flounder for air. Late nights powering through boring essays, countless assignments completed only an hour before they were due, the weekend study sessions that almost always turned into game nights or gossiping over snacks that he’d seen you participate in with your other friends. You work so tirelessly to be a good student and attentive friend. That effort wasn’t unnoticed by his watchful eye.

There were many more less impactful moments shared that, dare he say, mean even more to him than the death-defying acts you’d survived together. Chats over the positive current life events with him drinking his standard cup of muddy brown coffee and you casually sipping your own beverage. Walks around campus with him, Midoriya, Tokoyami, Ojiro, and you. The sky gleaming a dazzling aqua blue with the sun sparkling overhead, but not in an overwhelming glare. Puffy clouds dancing in the air. A pleasant, flowery breeze twirling past you. One late night in the common room when he was making his last round to make sure everyone was securely in their dorms, he found you sitting on the couch brushing off the aggressive tears slipping down your cheeks.

When he’d made his presence known that night, you’d shot up like a fired bullet off the comfy sofa, scrubbing your puffy eyes in an attempt at covering up the residual cry session. You’d greeted him warmly with a laughing cough to hide your choked up throat, but he shut down your plan of concealment by hinting that he’d already seen your sadness flowing. That night he sat beside you and talked. Talked about what you were upset about, talked through your doubts, fears, and resentment over how you didn’t know what you were going to do now. Gave you a sorrow-filled look when you broke down into a fit of violent sobs again. He even sat with you in a lingering, but reassuring, silence after your sobs faded.

Only then did Aizawa release a sliver of his own castle walls to give you a hug holding as much love as he could spare from his withered and beaten heart. He told you many ways how your class had changed him to be a better man. How you inspired him to keep pushing himself to look ahead to what beauty the future could hold. Aizawa promised you that night that no one was going to abandon you like you’d feared. He promised to always be there for you whenever you needed his support. All he needed was for you to reach out, and he’d claw up any bit of strength he had left to come rescue you like the hero he promised Oboro and Hizashi he would become. Today was no different from back then.

These fakes weren’t going to tarnish his cherished memory of that night with you. That night, when you’d smiled back up at him with a wobbly grin and soggy eyes, now glistening with hope from his words, you should have known he wouldn’t let some nobodies crush your heart. These wretches didn’t stand a chance.

Power Loader cut Aizawa off to continue, “We would never. Stop trying to scare them like that!”

13, back to her reasonable self, even tried coaxing you, “(Y/N), they are lying. We would never betray you. Now, if you’d please come back here—,”

Feeling bolder with allies at your side, you forced your lips to move to stop their rambling lies, “Why should I believe a single word that comes out of any of your mouths?!” The room fell into stillness. It was as if the whole world had shut itself up to give you the stage to speak your mind.

Fed up and running off of pure adrenaline, you continued, “None of you have asked for my opinion on anything that has happened tonight. You don’t care what I have to say; all you give a shit about is doing whatever the fuck you want to me. You didn’t tell me what you were planning. You spied on me, you kidnapped me, and kept me stuck in this hell as your little hostage all night!

“Even if you did care about me, it was only to find out what you could gain from me for your selfish desires.” You downcasted your eyes at their knife-like glares.

Tears welled up and this time you couldn’t stop them from dragging down your tired face. You took a shaky breath to fill your deflated lungs, “I…I understand this virus has…changed you. I understand whatever you’re going through isn’t easy to fight against. But I don’t know. I don’t know what is happening to any of you. I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing. I just…can’t know. I’m too scared to even try to begin searching for the answer. My classmates have become the same as you—completely changed from who they are. They’ve been hunting me down. And now this thing has taken my teachers too?” Your lips wobbled at the realization of your loss.

“Ha…it’s like one sick joke the world is playing against me,” an exasperated laugh bled from your vocal chords, “I don’t know how it’s making you feel, but I know what it is making you do to me. You’re scaring me. I don’t feel safe. Around any of you. It isn’t crazy to consider you’d force me to do…other things too.”

You caught Aizawa’s eyes when you looked up. You turned away to save yourself from the heartbreak of his torn expression.

You curled into Hawks’ back, shrouding your emotional husk of a body in his fluffy feathers. You allowed the last few dying words left in your quaking heart to wheeze out, “Please. Leave me alone. Please.” Whether your teachers were mad at you for speaking against them, or if they wanted to get on their knees and beg for your forgiveness, you had no clue. All you know is that Hawks whips around, gathers your trembling form in his arms, and takes a couple of steps back from Mirko.

“Hang on tight.” He gently whispers to you. Unconsciously, you obeyed, and securely held onto the fizzy collar of his iconic jacket.

“We’ll be watching over them for the rest of the Purge.” That cold, nonchalant jab to the teachers was the last fleeting acknowledgment Mirko threw at them. Hawks spread his wings.

“Next time, before you go destroying the mental and emotional well-being of your students, get a grip on reality.” The finality of Hawks’ tone was filled with all the venom that he felt you lovingly held back. Your kindness is not what this lot deserves. With that, he flapped his humongous wings a few times to kickstart his ascension and took off with you pressed tightly against him. He soared up and out of the broken window, making sure to cover you properly so you didn’t get sliced or stabbed by any broken glass. You watched Mirko clamber out of the rickety window from over his shoulder, land on the edge of the concrete window sill, and use her legs to jump as high into the air as she could.

You watched in awe as she practically flew up several storeys, confidently grasp the edge of the railing atop the roof, and gently sling herself onto the roof without so much as a hiccup. Judging by the trajectory of where Hawks was flying, he too was aiming for the roof. Not like you cared at this point. As long as you were away from them, you’d be fine to go anywhere they took you.

“We at Air Hawks thank you for flying with us on this gorgeous evening, esteemed passenger. We have now reached our destination, the rooftop of the illustrious UA High. The weather outside is clear skies at a balmy 75°, so you may see a stunning view of the city tonight. Please take care and follow your charming, ever good-looking pilot as he will guide you towards the exit.” Hawks cracked a light joke to try and pull you out of the dark headspace you were currently dwelling inside. You spared him a half-hearted giggle for his attempt, allowing him to release the hold his hands had on the backs of your knees. You plopped your feet down softly to the ground just as Mirko had made it over.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Mirko held out her hands, her gaze trained on Sero’s tape that was still wound snugly around your wrists. Wow. You’d entirely forgotten they were still there. You lifted your wrists to the admirable woman and merely watched as she took your already reddening wrists into hers.

“Honestly. What barbarians. To leave you bound like this? Complete bullshit.” Mirko muttered insult after insult under her breath as she wasted no time in destroying the binding. She took your wrists up to her mouth and carefully chomped down using her steely, rabbit-esque front teeth on the strips to make a sizable cut through them. She gently pulled your wrists apart and the tape effortlessly split. Free, at last.

Using your fingers, you tore away the remaining severed strips with a wince, and threw them to the ground. Battered and bruised, you saw that your wrists were nearing raw from how much struggling against the tape’s adhesive you’d done. You gave a quick massage to stimulate blood flow back into your numbing fingertips.

“There! Feel any better?” Mirko prodded.

“Much. Thank you for getting me out of there. I seriously couldn’t have asked for a cooler getaway than two of the top pro heroes in Japan being my saviors.” you tossed a light joke in along with the gratitude. You yanked the two pros into your chest with a tight hug to further show your thanks, taking a deep breath against their chests. They were rigid at first, but they both allowed themselves. However, while being this close, they couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell drifting off of your clothing. There was little the pros could do to avoid the intoxicating aroma, but before they could delve further into what it was, they heard a tiny sniffle sound from your buried head.

With an alertness to you that he hadn’t felt before, Hawks pulled you away from his chest with a concerned look on his face. “Hey, what’s up, baby bird?” Hawks were much more determined than he had been all night to get you to open up about what was going on in your brain.

Not looking up from the ground to respond, he placed his fingertips underneath your chin and tilted your bent head up. You had a thread of silvery tears lining your lower lash line and a wobbly lip that made both Mirko and Hawks’ aggravation boil their blood.

“Hon, tell us what’s wrong.” Mirko commanded. She could barely contain the loathing that spiderwebbed throughout her heart. When she gets her hands on those measly heroes who mistreated you, she is going to make them wish they’d never bothered you with their worthless existence ever again. Lousy maggots. Just as Mirko’s mind was going to float off the deep end into disturbing plans of vile and ruthless methods of punishment, she caught herself.

Woah. That’s new. That was aggressive.

No, the aggressiveness was not new. She’d always had a bit of spark to her. Her wild thoughts are what made her such a great hero; that’s how Mirko became widely recognized for her prowess. It was who she was having the ruthless feelings against that surprised her. She’s worked with those pros, her coworkers and friends, for years. She barely knows you at all. Yet, she’s planning every possible way she could make the insolent, ignorant gang pay for their mistreatment.

Although, why should that fact matter? Why shouldn’t they pay? Sure, they’re her friends, but they abused an innocent. They forcefully used their quirks and position of power over you to make you suffer! It’s despicable. It’s dishonorable. They should face the punishment of the law. But…that isn’t enough. Her rationality slips, drifting further away the longer she feels you warm her. It fuels a fire within her, and that fire sets the marrow lining her bones a light. She doesn’t want to toss the aggressors off to the police like a spineless coward. You deserve better than that. You deserve more. You deserve justice. She is justice. Technically, she is the law. She will make them pay. Yes, that’s a wonderful idea!

God, she hasn’t felt this warmth in a long time. Too long. You’re wonderful.

Hawks isn’t faring any better. He’s wild-eyed—his mind deep sketching out the framework of delusional fantasies of him taking you on as his trainee, showing you all the tips and tricks he’s learned in the harsh world of hero life, and quite literally taking you under his wing. Maybe you two become more after you get closer. Keigo isn’t unfamiliar with the desire of wanting companionship in his life. He often finds himself daydreaming of a partner by his side, on and off the field of battle. Never a specific person, just a faceless, nameless being, fluttering through his desires. Smiling, laughing, enjoying each other's time together. Cute stuff. Hawks yearns for that small sliver of normalcy. Keigo wants to feel human—to feel whole again after everything he’s been stripped of in his miserable existence.

With you, even though your interactions have been brief and you’ve endured some light flirting of his that is barely considerably mentionable, you’ve brought him nothing but a comforting and loving feeling. He feels indebted to you for simply being you. Not lying to him, or trying to pretend to be someone you’re not. He’s constantly surrounded by deceptive and cruel human nature. He truly couldn’t tell you how many thousands of googly-eyed newbies have introduced themselves to him, praying for even a small flicker of his fame to rub off on them. Hoping to use him to spring them up into the actually noticeable charts. It’s so easy to read them too. They’re open, flimsy magazines. Bright, colorful, eye-catching, and full of back-stabbing and strategically fabricated lies. Spread wide and pleading for him to flip through their pages. They always hiss lies through their teeth, grinning and bearing the once-in-a-lifetime interaction. But no matter how much sucking up they commit to or how well they try to veil the truth of their intentions behind sugared words, he never fails to see through them.

Guess the training he went through as a child was good for something. If you don’t open up to people, you can never get hurt. Sure, that tactic has worked wonders…up until meeting you.

But he’s just so tired. He just wants to lower the railing and find something worth all the fight he puts up.

You might be his outlet.

“It’s…it’s just been a long night. I’m sorry—,” you tried to cover your face with your forearm, desperate to conceal the embarrassing honest showing on your face. Mirko gently removed your shield with a comforting smile.

“Oh no, hon, it’s fine—,”

“Never ever apologize for your feelings—,” both pros stumbled over each other’s words. When they realized they were getting anywhere by interrupting the other, they shared a look. After a small nod shared, they wrapped their arms around you again.

“You’re okay,” they both said at the same time, cradling you against them once again. You snuggled deeper, taking that chance to breathe deep and avoid spiraling into a panic attack.

While your arms were around the two, you accidentally brushed against Hawks’ wings. That is when you noticed his wings had puffed up in size, similar to how any bird does when they want to appear bigger to a threat they face. He had been very tense at the beginning of the hug, so maybe he was only nervous, so you chose to not question it. Plus, you’d just let a room full of deadly pro heroes! Yeah, it’s alright. However, the light thudding taps of Rumi’s foot against the concrete roof was something you couldn’t explain. Is it normal for hybrid rabbits to emulate this characteristic from their bunny counterparts? You’re not too sure.

You tried to pull away, but their tight grips didn’t let you. Oh. Well, maybe they’re both in desperate need of a hug. You’re very familiar with your classmates coming to you for hugs during their rougher days. They always said you had the best hugs, and you take great pride in that fact. Come to think of it, maybe you should ask them all about their mental health more often, just so no one spirals off the deep end and punches another classmate (thank you for that, Bakugo).

OH! Your friends! Maybe Hawks and Mirko can help them! Yes, that’s a great plan.

Peeling further back, you tilted your head up to look them in their eyes. You let out an airy chuckle, “As much as I enjoy the hug, I need some more of your help.”

They instantly lightened their steely grips. Not too much to let you slip away. Mirko held a smug look, as if knowing you’d come crawling back to her for her aid. SHe’s the only one who can provide for you properly, afterall. Don’t worry, let her handle everything for her darling. No task is too big for her. Hawks resembled that of a grinning puppy, excited and warm. Eager to perform any task for praise and treats. Yes! Anything you want, darling, they can provide! What do you need?

They didn’t supply you with a verbal answer, but the looks they carried spoke loud enough, so you continued, “My classmates. I don’t know what happened to my friends, but they’ve got the same thing the teachers do. I think everyone’s infected. I have to help them, but I don’t think I can do it alone.”

As soon as they heard you utter the word “friends”, their bliss was shot and struck the ground like a wounded songbird. Their brains shut off to stop the nonsense you were suggesting. Friends? You need people other than them?! And what’s worse, is you want them to help those idiots?! Last they checked, they were public enemy number one for making you run yourself ragged up and down those endless halls! No, that can’t be right. Those fools don’t deserve their help. Not for what they made you go through.

“No.” Rumi snapped with a frigid simper.

The rest of the sentence you were sputtering falters. You gaze up at the rabbit hero, “...What?”

With a second look-over, Mirko appears a lot scarier than she did only minutes beforehand. Have her eyes always been this clouded? Her unrelenting gaze exudes a darker inkling than when you’d faced her way. Rumi’s eyes stuck on you like gum bonded to the bottom of your shoe.

No. This wouldn’t happen again. They said they’d be better than this—better than them.

Hawks obnoxiously cleared his throat to brush the eerie vibe away from the floundering conversation, “Ehh…haha! What Rumi means is not right now. It’s too dangerous to go searching for your friends now. Finding help for them after the Purge settles down is the safest strategy.” Hawks smoothly saved Mirko’s ass with the perfect excuse, served up on a shining silver platter. You didn’t appreciate how obviously strained Hawks’ tone became at “friends”.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe. Preferably away from this shithole.” She mumbled the last portion, keeping the snark to her own chest, but her contempt for the institution was blatant. Mirko’s eyes were laced with flaming venom as she fleetingly paid attention to the concrete walls. A sneer broke out on her lips, as if just the idea of standing on top of the building was a sin itself.

“Ah… okay.” You tried to leave the hug again. They persisted.

“Mirko—,” Hawks’ voice twisted into a demanding tone. His blown out, puppy-like pupils cinched into vicious slits, staring down the woman.

“Hawks, I don’t want to hear it. Back off.” Mirko gnashed back at the blond. The two began an all out war against each other, both tugging against the other’s advances. A tug to the left, a drag to the right, both parties were unrelenting. Neither wanted to allow the victory of having you in their arms.

“You’re holding them too tightly!” Keigo whined.

“Well, you’re not holding them tight enough.” Mirko argued back. You’ve seen this before. It reminded you of two children fighting over who got to play with which toy, always bickering how the other was “doing it wrong”. It reminded you of Ochaco fighting the guys. It reminded you of Denki and Mina struggling over who got to hold you. Childish squabbles.

Liars, the lot of them. They didn’t want to help you. If they did before, not anymore. They’re infected, there’s no other answer for their behavior.

“Keigo, just stop it! You and I both know that you can’t protect them.” Mirko snarked. That caught the bird’s attention judging by the way his eyes dug into her, all emotion scrapped from his expression. A grim look stole the spot, one that told of violence and mayhem running rampant in behind his eyes. An expression usually reserved for the villains he so often made easy prey of. This is awful.

“And what is that supposed to mean, rabbit?” Hawks’ eyes looked wilder than before.

“I think you and I both know what I meant.” She snarked back, ruffling his feather figuratively and quite literally.

“Be honest with yourself. When was the last time you were able to save something that you actually cared about?” Mirko hatched a devilish plan. She took the chance of his loss of temper to clutch you against her. She took a couple spacious leaps back, creating a sizable distance between her friend turned enemy. Hawks plucked two giant feathers from his wingspan that sharped out into duo blades resembling two scimitars.

“I’m done being—,” just before Hawks could spiral off the deep end into whatever hell he had planned to put Mirko through, a disturbance crashed the party.

“Enough, you two.” A formidable voice shook from the shadows. Those few words are all it takes for the two beside you to back off from tearing out each other’s throats. Whoever it was had the ability to command total control of a room in an instant. You couldn’t see them, but you knew the voice came from the other side of the stairwell exit.

“Great,” Mirko scoffs, tilting her head to look the other way with a cross of her arms. You couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or the shame from being caught. Judging by her scowl, it’s probably the latter.

“Endeavor…how long have—,” Hawks sputtered out. You swivel your head to the gap at the birdman. No fucking way it’s the number one hero. He’s gotta be wrong. The number one pro hero showing up to participate in the Purge is unheard of. Guess you’d be wrong. Though, you suppose that even the number one gets a pass during today. It’s just jarring since All Might had not once in all his years of being the symbol of peace even be seen during the Purge hours. He probably just didn’t want to be caught up in a scandal with the news or social media if he were to ever be discovered converting to be a player of the Purge’s game.

Sure enough though, the one who rounds the corner is in fact Endeavor. He shut Hawks up with a simple raise of his palm and an unforgiving glare. The once cheery hawk tucks into himself and shields his frustration away from the number one.

The first thing that shows you the reality of the situation is his overwhelming stature. You severely underestimated the way this man takes up a room. Seeing him in TV interviews on the news and fighting against villains is one thing, but it is a completely different beast to be face-to-face with him stalking towards you. It made sense why he was deemed the top—with such a suffocating aura, it was hard to believe that any villain even tried to oppose the behemoth. You should know, you’ve met him before.

During your training with him alongside the boys, it had been quite the feat. You’d mostly done in-field training with the boys, but the one time you did have one-on-one training with the pro was unnerving, to say the least. Endeavor had watched your every move, his eyes never straying too far from where you’d displayed the extent of your Quirk’s usefulness. You knew you were as capable, even more so since you could control your emotions, as Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki. Let’s face it, all three of them had a tendency to act out far too irrationally due to their urges and feelings, and they weren’t shy about expressing it. Although, your self control put you in a favorable light with Endeavor, so it wasn’t strange that he gave more of his attention to you.

Instead of bickering and combating everything the pro said with a harsh glower like Katsuki had, you listened intently and gave Endeavor undivided attention. Instead of ignoring the man who actively tried to give pointers and choosing to walk faster ahead of the group like Shoto had, you hung back and asked questions about what Shoto had done wrong in his approach and how to improve his strategy. You became more agile, better aware of your surroundings, and able to predict some of the moves villains would try to throw at you. You understood that the opportunity that Shoto had given to you all with training under his father for the work-study was not something to be taken lightly. Was the man a little too much of a hardass for your taste? Yes. But he was not a pushover. He had valuable lessons to teach you all from experiences he’s faced during his years in the field. If you wanted to actually place in the hero charts one day, you knew you’d have to get past your own opinions on the man and try to cooperate.

If someone asked your opinion of Endeavor, they’d understand he’s not your favorite hero to grace the charts. You’d believed him to be startlingly cold for the fiery nature of his quirk. It was easy to say you’d originally thought him to be nothing but an ass with too hot of a head on his shoulders, and while that was still the truth more often than not, he had his moments of clarity. The media did have a knack for stringing up the moments of his ill temper caught on film and making them the headline of every social media platform. What you had learned during your trainings held at the crack of dawn was that he was extremely precise. There was never a lack of communication or any doubt held within his words whenever he instructed you. Swing a right hook into the dummy’s torso. Sweep your leg to the left to knock the opponent over. He was straight to the point and earnest in the compliments regarding your physical improvements.

He’d even let you spar against him one day. Endeavor had taken the four of you and one of his many sidekicks, Burnin, to the rooftop during one of the few freetimes you’d actually had. He asked you to step across from him and get into your fighting position. He instructed no quirks be used, that it be purely a hand-to-hand combat session that balanced skill and strength together. With Burnin as the referee, you’d begun. He thankfully didn’t go easy on you as he views not giving his all into any task as a “halfass lazy excuse”, so you’d fight with your entire being against Endeavor. He educated the four of you through commentating on all of the things you did wrong; how you’d left yourself open to a couple of jabs from him, turned your back to him often enough that he’d seized an opportunity to lunge and knock you over, and such. Though you were outmatched in a number of categories, you soon understood why he was putting you to this impossible challenge. Enji wanted you to get creative with your tactics to take down your foe. You needed to outwit his strength.

With the newfound spark of inspiration, you struck. You made a move imitating that of one you’d tried against him earlier. A simple left hook. He knew he could easily deflect the punch, so he took the bait. You’d noticed before that he was much more sturdy with his right side, which left room for error on his left, so you took the chance. You sidestepped into his peripheral and closed in behind him. You kicked in the back of his right knee, forcing him to stumble to the ground. You knew you couldn’t tackle the man over from this position, nor could you keep him pinned there due to how much force you had to use to kick his knee alone, so you went with the quickest option. You needed to hit a weak point, but since his body was covered in mostly muscle, you only had a few options. Since kicking him in the groin seemed like too cruel for a simple sparring session, the spots above his neck would have to do. You jumped up onto his back, shimmied up enough to hang onto his shoulder, and threw a hard punch right into his throat.

You left him choking on his air and wheezing. He grasped at his neck, steadying himself on his other arm. Leaving him no hands to defend against your assault. You then shoved your hands into his hair, pulled on the strands tightly, and swung your body forward over the man’s shoulder. You let gravity handle the rest. Your body weight pulled his unstable torso forward and he hit the ground with a hefty SMACK! You bent your knees to land sturdily on the ground with minimal impact to your footing and let his face take the brunt of the fall. You then placed your knee hard on the middle of his shoulder blades to pin him and Burnin deemed the match completed with an impressed grin lilting on her face. Admittedly, for the rest of that day, you gloated the pride you felt at taking down the mountain of a man a little too obviously.

You knew that day he most likely wanted to make an example out of you when he presumed you wouldn’t win the fight, but you’d made sure he understood not to fuck around with you or your generosity again.

Zooming back to the present, you caught his eyes goring a hole right through you. Brilliant aqua blue irises stuck out like a sore thumb against his smoldering flames. No matter how much Shoto tried to deny the fact, he truly was Endeavor’s child. That striking blue color kept locked down within the Endeavor lineage and fiery red hair that draped over half of his head was unmistakable. Features that, however much wasted on the shitty attitude the man possessed, would make many and most fall head-over-heels for their stunning effect. Though, in your opinion, Shoto wore the beauty better.

Enji’s gaze was harsh towards you, but it was kind compared to the one he shot at Mirko’s arm wrapped around you. Perceptive, the woman held you closer, as if trying to defy his silent demand of releasing you. She was dead set on not going down without a fight. Before she could hope for one to begin, Hawks laid a hand on her shoulder as a soft hint to not involve you in Endeavor’s unrivaled wrath. Mirko knew he was right. Dammit it all. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she relented, back off of you. She left you to fend for yourself against the beast, cast you aside to the big bad wolf who wouldn’t spare you. It reminded you of the tale of Odysseus facing off with Polyphemus—only you were unarmed and lacking a foolproof plan of escape and this giant won’t allow arrogance to be his downfall yet again like the monster from the epic had.

Finally, Endeavor was right in front of you. If you had any bravery left from the night, it vanished wholly with him staring you down. Endeavor hardly even spared a tilt of his head to gaze down upon you, opting to stare through a half-lidded examination. The only indication that he was human and not some freaky Terminator cyborg from the future coming to hunt you down was the ever-present scowl he’s so fond of sharing.

Without ever taking his sight off of you, he glowered dryly to an unidentified listener, “Why are they scratched up?” You see now the question is not for you, rather it's dedicated to the duo in charge of you. You peered down to see what he was referring to, only now understanding what he meant from the bruises beginning to bloom along your wrists and the miniscule scratches littering your forearms and neckline. None of them were deep enough to lance more than a couple drops of blood, but they were still oozing fresh from the night’s escapades.

“That wasn’t from us! The students were dragging them back-and-forth between the halls before the teachers got a hold of them. You know how rough kids are with their toys.” Hawks quickly presented to the man. Smooth as ever. He strolled over to Endeavor to lean his elbow against the man’s bulky side, as if casually resting against an alleyway’s grimy brick wall. Although, with how stocky the pro was, you’re sure the feeling was probably akin. You watched Endeavor roll his eyes at the blond.

“I’m sure hurling them through a window had nothing to do with the scratches.” Endeavor’s sarcasm hung heavy in the air like too much icing on a dry piece of cake. It was obvious that his comedic side hadn’t been brushed up on in awhile. He took the chance to use an unexpected gentleness to grasp your forearm and hold up the damaged skin to the duo as all the evidence he needed. You, not taking too kindly to being an item for presentation, pulled your arm away from him and held it close. Endeavor shot you a look of disappointment, but held in the trembling Armageddon he had planned. Hawks gave a weak chuckle, no doubt scrounging for a way to veer the conversation off them scaling the side of a building with you.

Endeavor decided to spare you for now, choosing to cross his arms and acknowledge only Hawks, “What’s their status? Who in the school is infected? How many are after them?”

You were starting to get sick of him completely ignoring the fact that you had your own voice to speak for your own wellbeing. “You know I can speak for myself, right? Or have you forgotten that since we last hung out.” Hawks shot you a look that yelled “shut up” like a parent two seconds away from scolding their child who is screaming in public. You didn’t cower. You pressed on to challenge Endeavor’s authority.

“I’m aware. But I understand if I speak to you, you’ll probably end up whining like a child to me. Wasting my time.” Endeavor threw no more than a half-hearted stern crinkle of his brows, and you pretty much could no longer hold back the bubbling anger swelling up in your chest.

“Excuse me! It’s not ‘whining’, it’s called ‘being a sane person with reasonable concerns’. Also, no shit I would complain! Your little underlings were literally just fighting over who was going to kidnap me! That is a perfect reason to yell.” You waltzed your way in front of him to be a human barrier to get in the way of his sight being fixated on Hawks. You will make yourself heard against this bully. Screw it if he trained you, you don’t just ignore someone you’re actively talking about when they are right in front of you! It’s incredibly rude.

“I don’t have time for this,” Endeavor rubbed temples with one hand. You wanted to rip his head off and shout from the rooftops into his eardrums. Maybe that would get your point through his thick skull.

“Wow. First of all, fuck you,” That certainly caught his attention. His head snapped to look down at your defiance. His eyes bore that same look he’d struck Mirko’s arm with before. Boiling hysteria and bitterness. Even though you physically felt the warmth of his internal temperature rise, and you recognized the panic Hawks held in his gob-smacked expression, you couldn’t stop your big mouth from prattling on. Shoto probably would have laughed his ass off at your opposition to his father. That small support in the back of your mind made your confidence soar.

“Second of all, you can’t seriously think that I am going to be chill with anything you wei—,” you couldn’t finish your sentence before you were all of the sudden no longer touching the roof. The collar of your shirt had been snatched by Endeavor’s strong hand with no warning and hoisted high. You were now dangling limply a few feet off the ground. Keigo was squawking figuratively and literally, yanking on Endeavor’s arm to lower the leverage he held your body at. Rumi took a turn for the worst. Threats cranked out of her mouth as she reared up to kick him as hard as she could square in an area where the sun didn't shine. Maybe give him a taste of his own brutality. With an unyielding and unforgiving hold, he lifted you even higher with no strenuous effort. You yelped, swinging and writhing around to try escaping the brute strength of your foe. He brought you in close to look at you eye-to-eye, making sure your darting gaze has nowhere to turn to other than locking in to meet his own icy pair.

“You will not speak to me like that again. Your attitude might be cute to the rest of these weak links, but I won’t let it go without correction. You show me respect, or we will both have to go through a punishment for you that neither of us will enjoy. This is your first and final warning.” Every word was uttered with nothing but truth. No twist of a joke in his tone, no shift in expression, nothing. Only a foreboding aura and the gravely tone that demanded full cooperation.

Every snappy response died on your tongue. You wanted to fight back, to sass all of them more, to tell him exactly what you thought of him to his stupid, scary face—but nothing came. You felt tears line your waterline, and you couldn’t despise them more. Crying when faced with any kind of opposition…what kind of hero does that make you? You couldn’t explain why your mind drifted to Midoriya in this moment when all hope was lost.

You suppose it’s because you recall a day when the boy had tried to deny his waterworks and his friends carried his tears with grace and love. Deku had been sent off to his work-study with the man he’d called ‘Sir Nighteye’. You didn’t know much about the man, in all honesty, but you did know that one of the strongest students at UA had been training underneath him for some time. The sweet boy named Mirio who had come to meet your class and then single handedly swept you all in a twenty-to-one match. He was quite impressive, so the fact that Midoriya had been taken on to work alongside him was quite the honor!

However, Midoriya came back rather…startled, to say the least. He hardly participated in conversations held around him, didn’t speak up during the lectures, and could barely choke down the food placed in front of him either. His eyes were clouded, a scrunched up twist pulled on his eyebrows like he was stuck in a maze of his own thoughts. He looked far into the distance yet couldn’t process what was in front of him. It was scary. Where did the boy always eager to learn and help everyone drift off to? You wanted him back.

The situation came to a head one day at lunch when you were sitting across from the green-haired boy, Iida, and Shoto. You’d all tucked into your meals when you noticed Midoriya had no intention of even attempting to stomach the spread. Shoto had shockingly tried to crack a very dry joke, and that seemed to wake the distant boy. After brushing off all of your concerns for the nth time, Iida finally challenged Deku’s false reassurance. He’d offered an ear to listen to the boy’s troubles. A simple gesture, most would assume, but it hit the boy hard. Midoriya had tried to keep it in, but the boy just couldn’t hold back his emotions—a fact of which you admired to this day. He tried to claim that heroes don’t cry while he actively swiped away the drips trailing from his evergreen eyes, but you watched as Iida and Shoto shut down that statement quickly. It’s such an easy thing to say but a hard skill to execute. Of course heroes cry! Anyone who doesn’t when facing the nightmarish terrors that they do on a daily basis is lying or too stone cold to be considered human.

You watched as the boys bonded over the spilt emotions and a grin overtook your face the entire rest of the day. No one at that table knew what Deku was going through with poor Eri and the vile Overhaul situation. You hadn’t a clue the true reason Iida had extended his hand to the shaken boy that day. But it didn’t matter. Izuku let his tears and strength glow bright that day. Tears are a symbol of actually giving a shit in this world. Tears you shed are the wordless tale you share with the world. Speaking a thousand words in all different orders. A labyrinth that can be solved or failed, depending on how your own soul understands the riddle. You’re still scouring that maze to comprehend your own salty snivels.

“Understood?” The three heroes stilled, waiting for your response. Wordlessly, you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling, looking away from the man to not give the satisfaction of his actions actually scaring you, and nodded. He gave a satisfied grunt of contempt and lowered you back down to the cement. Hawks flitted over to your side, checking you over. Mirko didn’t exactly come running to you but she did make a point of standing in between Endeavor and you.

“You’ll see why we must do this soon, (Y/N). This life is just too risky for someone like you,” he looked like he wanted to say more to you, but held his tongue. You wished he’d just crawl back to whatever shithole he climbed out of and fester there for the atrocious attempt at playing the “comforting” father role.

He meant it, you know. Enji sees you choose to not look beyond his past. Much like his sons. Not that he can blame any of you. But, for some reason, the abandonment of trust hurt more from you than it did Shoto.

Enji could tell you how many sidekicks he’s experienced come and go throughout his career. Does he remember the plebeians' names? No. Why should he? They left, so that must mean they didn’t meet his standards. No big deal, another will take their place eventually. It’s not his job to care about them or to remember them. However, he does remember you quite well. Truthfully, much to your surprise, before even your work-study together.

The first time he’d even sparred you a passing glance was during the Sports Festival in your first year. Truthfully, he didn’t give a single damn about any students in the arena other than his son. Enji really only went to see if Shoto would finally stop this little rebellion of his by only using that wretched ice his doe-eyed wife blessed their son with. He wanted to see Shoto crack under the pressure and give in—finally admit that the fire portion of his power was the stronger, more reliable half. He managed in his obsession to give some half-assed attention to the other one-on-one duels.

One of the fights he watched over was you against the ditzy girl from the Support Department, Mei something. Initially, he was going to walk away at such an uninteresting sounding fight, but he chose to linger. He saw you willingly agree to Mei flaunting her inventions to prospective buyers by using you as the demonstration device. You’d effortlessly almost danced around her gadgets’ tactics; playing the part of challenging foe, but never let her pin you in a dicey position. You’d ended the fight by running her off the boundary line before time ran out, and both of you shared a hug as you parted ways—both satisfied with you being the victor moving forward in the chain of fights and her having interested eyes witnessing her skill. Normally, a blatant show of mutual benefit would have him running for the hills. That wasn’t a fight, neither of you put any effort into crushing your opponent to a pulp, which is what a real show of power was to his image of winning. Yet, he stayed. Not to watch anything that pink girl offered, only examining you bounce around with both your own strength and the might of your quirk. He wanted you to slip up. He wanted you to make a mistake so he could justify ditching the patetic battle, but you never did. You stayed light on your feet and still struck at your opponent a few times to show examples of the defense her “babies” could provide to heroes.

Intriguing, is all he thought. He then stood and sauntered off until the second round.

The second round he watched Shoto, not as easily as he had hoped, defeat Midoriya. While he was filled with both gratification at Shoto caving into his carnal fire and enragement at that Izuku pest for giving his son the unwavering support to defy his hold over his son, he hardly realized your next battle had begun. It was against the vine girl from the Class B—first losers, rather, to him—Ibara. Unlike Mei’s challenge, you basically wiped the floor with the poor girl. You shot around the court, darting like a bat through an inky full-mooned sky, making sure to not give Ibara a chance to get the one up on you. You hardly let her breathe during the showdown, striking at her again and again from all angles. She was safe nowhere, even when hidden behind the viney defensive walls sprouting from her hair. You’d ended it neat and clean with a swift shot of your quirk, landing her out of the arena. Triumphant, you’d moved up again, but you still remained humble while helping Ibara off of the ground with a bright smile and gifted her a sincere handshake. You’d no doubt made a spectacle of yourself to the crowd and everyone watching at home, the loud cheer of encouragement erupting across the venue said just as much. Enji even hashed out a couple of light claps for your impressive display.

Your last battle was the nail in the coffin for Endeavor. You were finally fighting against his son. Of course, he was obviously rooting for Shoto to crush you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to a nail-biting fight. He got just that. You two dove for each other—ice flung around the court in jagged peaks with you racing around the boy and firing off precisely aimed jabs of your own quirk. Blustering rushes of glacial wind flushed across the landscape. You two waltzed around in a deadly dance of effort and skill. You’d make sure Shoto knew that you weren’t to be cast aside like overlooked trash. You had grit, a will to make a name for yourself in the competitive world of heroes. You managed to last around two minutes in the ring together, which is phenomenal, considering his other battles didn’t last more than a handful of seconds. In the end, Shoto had been the victor when he caught you off guard by using his ice on the floor. He swiftly created a haphazard ice rink and slid you out of bounds. You were too exhausted from abusing your quirk so much that afternoon against your other opponents that you couldn’t stop your body from spinning out. Enji didn’t miss the way Shoto practically dashed over to your side, helped you stand up, and offered his arm for you to hold as you shakily shuffled off the slick floor to a safer spot.

Though you lost, he hadn’t forgotten how you gave his son a run for his money. You were very capable. Which is why he didn’t hesitate allowing you to become a work-study of his under the guise of helping you and your other friends out. This plan he has is not only for the benefit of his own gains, but for Shoto’s as well. He knows his son cares for you, but he has to help you see that after all of the Purge nonsense. You two would be perfect together—the perfect marriage of quirks. Of course, he tells himself that he’s not in this for the sole reason of having another powerful quirk added to his ranks. But it certainly helps him like you more.

You kept your eyes lowered, the lingering sting of defeat simmering behind your eyes and in your heart. You wanted to have an unwavering confidence like some of your classmates. You would never say this to Bakugou, but you truly did admire his “never back down” style. You had seen countless times how he barked in the faces of higher-ups, challenging their morals, their reasons for becoming heroes, and plans. It was as if he never agreed with anything they presented. The blond always had to shove his opinion into every decision made. You wanted to stare Endeavor straight in the eye as you stomped on his foot and make him see what you really thought of all their bullshit. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have it in you to ignore his authority. Guess that’s why you’re still stuck up here on this stupid roof with people you don’t want to be around, huh?

Hawks brushed back your hair, trying to examine your face for distress or injury, but all he could see was you not meeting his gaze. He wants to tell you he knows firsthand how hard this decision is—hell, even he has doubts relying on Endeavor and Mirko. He wants to say he’d be able to make this escape on his own with you. Hide you away alone so no one else has any clue where you are. That sounds like paradise to him. Alas, with so many high profiles after you now, there isn’t a chance of him making it out with his head. If he broke the agreement he resentfully made with the two, then others would certainly turn against him.

Later. He’ll strike later. Don’t you see? That’s why he’s playing the perfect little stepping stool. No one deserves you but him—not even his idol. His hero. He’ll make sure you know that too by the end of this night. Only a little longer of bearing the pretending and game of dress up, then he’ll slip away with you in tow.

“Hawks.” You heard Endeavor call out for the winged man. Daddy’s calling.

Hawks tilted your chin up so you were forced to look into his amber glow, and offered a caring smile. He hoped you could see the promise behind his eyes. The disgust masked behind a beaming smile was perfected for meeting delusional strangers and other worthless heroes. He gave Endeavor that smile, but not to you. You hoped the scowl you shot ripped his lungs out and left them rotting in a pile of maggot-riddled filth. How dare he give you such a carefree look after telling you he was going to steal away your entire life.

After Hawks walked over to converse with Endeavor, Mirko closed in. Not much was said between you two, but she did bump her hip against yours to knock you out of your own head. You turned to give her an offensive side eye, but she only fronted an unbothered look. You went to ignore her again, turning to face towards the men. However, you didn’t get far as she decided to make her personal mission to annoy you. You felt a gentle poke into your side, ticklish and fleeting. You jumped, falling for the trap and glaring at her again. This time, she had a mild grin on her face. It was obvious your displeasure fueled her joy.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to look mad,” she snorted, leaning back on her heels. She couldn’t stop looking at you, and you saw her stare through your peripheral.

You scoffed, “Trying?” You faced forward to deny her yearning for your gaze.

“Of course. I’ve seen mad before, and you’re not at that level. You’re just…peeved. Disgruntled. Ew, no, that word is too ugly to describe you.” Mirko shook her head and stuck her tongue out at the mention of the synonym. You took a deep breath and settled in to focus on the men discussing back and forth.

She circled you like a shark lunging on for her prey, but you simply turned your head the opposite direction of where she was to avoid the confrontation.

“Where you going, grumpy~?” Mirko easily caught on to your aversion. You noticed how her grin truly did resemble something shark-like. The thought crossed your mind if she was really half-bunny, or actually some predator in disguise masking the innocence of a rabbit. A wolf in sheep’s clothing

“I’m actually very interested in that bird over there. Would you look at that, it’s pretty far away.” You apathetically mused at the distant dot in the sky. You brushed her prodding away to daze off into the horizon, Mirko’s words slowly being tossed into the heaping bin of memories you wouldn’t document in your brain. Gazing across the landscape of the dark treeline surrounding UA and the few standing buildings nearby, your eyes scanning the moonlit metal of the nearby rooftops. But something else glistening on the roof caught your eye too. Something moving.

You watched it shift and reflect the moon’s rays from across the neighboring rooftop. You squinted, trying to catch exactly what was skulking around in the dark, but it strayed just beyond your sight. Whatever it was, it wanted to stay hidden.

“Absolutely not.” Endeavor’s thunderous voice startled you from your scouting. Hawks turned his head to see if you had noticed the man’s tantrum—no shit you’d notice that barbaric yell from the brute—and, in seeing your alarm, sighed. He scooted closer to the mammoth of a man, turning his back to you. You strained your ears to hear the mumbling.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s not ideal—I know that—but what other choice do you think we have?” Was all you could hear before Hawks’ voice became too faint to make out comprehensible words.

You then remembered your little “friend” in the shadows. You shot your head back to its previous position to confront the adversary. Nothing. You searched and searched the silent building, but nothing. You wanted to tell yourself that it was just your mind playing tricks in the dark, but on tonight of all nights, you knew better than to downplay your concern.

Finally acknowledging Mirko, you questioned her, “Do you see anything on that roof over there?”

She gave you an unimpressed deadpan, “Seriously? You're trying the ‘oh my gosh, what’s that over there!’ trick?”

“Wha—no!” You looked offended, but you felt a cold sweat on the side of your forehead. Inside, you knew you’d probably have tried that trick sooner rather than later, and you've got to hand it to her. She knows you well.

Before you could try to explain your reasoning, a raging flame shot to strike Hawks and Endeavor.

Miraculously, Hawks’ reflexes were quick enough to shove Endeavor and himself out of the way of the surprise attack before someone was set ablaze. The smell of burning hair permeated the area although, and you looked over to catch a glimpse of a portion of Hawks’ right wing being singed into charred black wisps. Mirko reacted nearly faster than Hawks did, grabbing your waist and maneuvering you back from the fire. It was you and Mirko parted from Hawks and Endeavor far on the opposite side of the roof.

“What the hell?” Mirko grit her teeth at the attack. Psychos getting in the way of her time with you, what a joke. Such a waste of time. She just wants to run off and find somewhere to keep you for the rest of the Purge, yet these shitty obstacles just can’t seem to get enough of you. She was going to rip them limb from limb for taking her attention off of you.

You stood with no complaint in her arms, not minding her taking the lead of your protection. You still couldn’t see who caused the disruption, but you would soon wonder no longer.

“You’re slow today, Endeavor. What? Off your game or something?” A seedy voice echoed across the way. Male, deep, commanding. You watched as the foe came to stand at the edge of the railing. Your eyes dilated at the sight. Your breath caught in your throat. You’d only cared to remember this man as the one who, with the rest of his party, ruined your training camp over the summer and kidnapped your classmate, Bakugou.

You’re shot into the past as you recount that horrible night. It had been such a great start to the day. You’d been working hard with all of your friends, aiming to better improve the longevity and resilience of all your quirks. You’d nearly tuckered yourselves out when the hero Pixie-Bob said you all had one more challenge to face before bed. The Test of Courage. It began as traditionally as any silly game teenagers played in the dark did. Then it all came crashing down at the faint, then quickly overwhelming, scent of smoke. You remember being there in that midnight-black forest, you remembered how excited you’d been at the started of that stupid game you’d agreed to play, you remember the fire that infested the trees and burnt the pretty flowers and bushes to wisps of charcoal ash, you remembered the terror and fear of being lost in said woods before Deku found you wandering alone. You remember locking eyes with the man who stoked the fires. A spearing turquoise. You’d seen a blue so vibrant like that only once before. You’d found that hypnotic color in Shoto’s left eye. Though, Shoto was a much kinder soul than the monster these captivating eyes were attached to.

In the present, you’re wrung back into that same terror as you watched his black leather trench coat gently sway in the breeze, a glinting bicep catching your eye. The metal cuffs shone from the full light of the moon along with the many staples running up and down the sleeves. He was too far away to discern an exact facial expression, but you could blatantly see the large patch of marred, burned flesh dominating the lower half of his face. The leathery substance was roughly connected to what remained of his skin untouched by flame, stitched up with bloody staples. The way it was sutured made his face forever appear as if strung upwards to mimic a sickening Cheshire grin. You wanted to say he was only generally looking around the roof, but you knew better. The villain was practically drilling daggers into you with how much he was staring. No, you couldn’t just say he was any old random villain; you knew his name. Dabi.

More bodies moved out from behind him to occupy the opposing roof. All you heard from them was laughter and unflattering comments nagged at the pro heroes.

“Wow, they’re even cuter this close~! Much better than in the crappy photos you guys took, Shiggy~,” A much higher pitched voice exhaled in an almost loving sigh. Their blonde hair was cinched up in two tangled space buns, but the mess was an intentional look. The loose strands were slicked into spikes. Cutesy and feminine, a happy aura surrounded her, but you knew better. She draped herself over the railing as if in her own ditzy world. You would have believed it was a fainting couch with how dramatically she had laid over the scenery. Much like Dabi, the girl couldn’t take her gaze off of you, but she made her presence known.

“Hiiii, (N/N)~~! Are the big, scary pro heroes getting in the way again? Don’t worry, cutie! I’ll take care of ‘em, hehe~!” Himiko Toga, you believe that’s what Aizawa said her name was, called out to you like she was the Romeo to your Juilet. You’re sure she believed that too. You’d heard Ochaco talk about her to you guys after the training camp. She told you about how the girl tackled Tsuyu and used these specialized needles to draw out blood from her victims. Uraraka experienced the threat head on as the girl had jammed one of her needles straight into her thigh with little apprehension.

Uraraka told you how obsessed the girl was with blood, a crazed look in her eye when the red substance came about. She said she loved her, loved her so much that she wanted to turn into her! Deku even chimed in and said the girl shouted to him delusional fantasies of wanting him to be her boyfriend. At the time, all you could do was shiver and brush off the fear the conversation brought by claiming she was “just another crazed lunatic”. Well, now that the girl is staring you down with her own redden irises, you felt your tongue shrivel up in your throat.

“Bloodied and carved up is the only way any of these nobody pro heroes could ever look cute. Though, the one daring to hold onto my darling definitely won’t be leaving here alive.” She sneered, completely flipping her personality into one of seething hate and disgust when she gazed upon Mirko. Toga’s rage could be felt from a mile away, and you felt Mirko hold onto you tighter.

“Toga, knock it off,” the green lizard man with the draping red scarf hollered at her, “we’ve got a job to do.” Though it was hard to see, you noticed the way his eyes would drift to you and quickly look away. Like he was nervous. Shy? The large clump of weapons taped and glued together as his arsenal seemed deadly but ineffective all in one. However, he moved rather quickly on his feet despite the added weight.

“Wow, such a beauty! Ugh, what an attention-seeker!” The same voice shouted two opposing sentences from across the way. You looked over and saw a man wearing a black and gray spandex suit, clutching the railing while waving his arm around. After yelling, it looked like one of his arms had a mind of its own as it grabbed his neck. It appeared to be he was trying to strangle himself with one hand, while the other hand sprung into action to stop the strangling. It was an odd battle of each arm trying to wrestle each other, as his head kept whipping back and forth shouting insults at…himself? You’re not entirely sure what’s going on there, but you hope he won’t start to try injuring himself with weapons next.

“Hmm, I agree with your first sentence, Twice. Do try to not scare our guest away so soon.” A regal tone stood out through the other members’ silliness. You wonder how much backup did these guys bring as a tall figure in a creamsicle colored jacket walked to the edge of the railing. His height was enhanced with a dark brown top hat he donned and the fancy cane held at his side. The most notable feature of his was the mask he hid behind. Marble man. You couldn’t remember his name, but you certainly remembered the way he trapped Tokoyami and Bakugou when he tried to run away with them in his grasp. You felt bubbling heat rise in your chest. Betrayal and resentment all wrapped into one swirl of hurt leaving a suffocating dead weight on your chest.

“Dabi, keep your shit under control or go back to the base. Get your asses moving. We’re here to take and leave, so don’t fuck this up for me.” An unseen voice was heard from further back on the roof. However, whoever it was got the lot of them hurrying off. Groaned complaints and witty remarks were heard, mostly from the black-haired male, but they soon fizzled out. You kept looking for where they were going, but soon you couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was silent yet again.

“Sorry, darling, but we don’t have time to stay and find out what happens next.” That is all Mirko said to you before she bent down to pull you up into her arms. Though, she didn’t move that far.

“MIRKO, BEHIND!” You heard Endeavor yell out to the woman in concern. You heard it before you saw it. A goopy, unnatural, burbling sound came from behind your form. You didn’t have a chance to turn around before a platform leather boot kicked Mirko’s crouched body away with little effort. She skidded across the cement, nearly all the way back to where Hawks and Endeavor were standing. You wanted to call out for her, ask if she was okay. As much as you’d felt unapologetic rage for how they’d decided to take your life away from you, you still cared about them. You probably gave them too much of your heart, but they’re still your mentors. The people you've looked up to for years in your training to become a hero. Right now, you didn’t want to be alone, as much as you’d begged for it in your mind tonight. Not with the threat of the League of Villains being what you’d have to face on your own.

You heard a sinister giggle from over your shoulder, and felt a calloused hand grasp your shoulder. Without warning, the memories you’d vaulted away with lock and key of the horrible training camp incident came flooding back with greater force than before.

That night, Izuku had found you. Tears dripped down your face as you hacked up a lung from the smoke in the air. If he’d found you any later, you’d probably have been passed out from the lack of oxygen. You ran alongside him, trying to find your way back to the rest of the class, toward any sign of a familiar face. After fleeing, you’d soon found the little boy who originally came with the Wild Wild Pussycats, Kota, with a villain in tow. Deku fought against the mammoth of a man who went by Muscular while you protected Kota from the falling rubble and terrain. After nearly getting thrown a million miles away, Izuku finally got the upperhand on the man, and knocked out the behemoth villain. You fled into the forest again, and after dropping Kota off with Mr. Aizawa and fending off Spinner to save Mandalay, you soon find Shoji and Tokoyami. However, Tokoyami could have been in better shape, as he was now overtaken by Dark Shadow’s power. Shoji explained that he and Tokoyami were attacked by a villain named Moonfish, which resulted in Tokoyami trying to use Dark Shadow to protect them, but Dark Shadow’s desire to take the reins was too great. Dark Shadow was destroying the forest in their rage, but Izuku was quick on his feet to think of using Dark Shadow to your advantage to help protect Bakugou from the villains as well.

You three lead Dark Shadow through the woods, and end up running into Bakugou and Todoroki who are facing off against the villain who tried to attack Shoji and Tokoyami before. Dark Shadow descended and made easy work of clobbering Moonfish, and the boys used their fiery quirks to release Tokoyami from Dark Shadow’s control. All of you hurried off in the direction of the facility, running into Tsuyu and Ochaco who’d been fighting off Himiko before she fled, and your large group prepared to get back safely as “Bakugou Protection Squad”. You didn’t get far as you finally noticed that Bakugou and Tokoyami were missing. The marble guy revealed himself and the League’s plan to take the boys hostage. He flew off, but the girls helped you, Shoto, Shoji, and Izuku fly to catch up to the villain.

You tackled Compress out of the sky, and fended off Twice alongside Shoto when the League fought against you. As you tried to run off as Shoji had yelled for you and Shoto to do, the warp user, Kurogiri, had stopped your escape. When Compress had shown the marbles of your friends being trapped, you saw red. You couldn’t let them be taken, you just couldn’t. It was the miracle that Aoyama’s precise shot of his Naval Laser to Compress’ face that gave you the chance you needed to save the boys.

Shoji had successfully nabbed Tokoyami’s marble, and now it was up to Shoto and you grab Bakugou’s. You were so close, just inches away, before he was ripped from you again. It was the scarred hands of the fire user that flooded your vision. You fell to the ground, empty-handed and desperately looking up at the man searching for any weakness in his grasp to steal the tiny blue-tinted glass ball from him. But it was too late.

It was an extra bit of torture—one that Dabi made sure you guys knew was on purpose—to release Bakugou from the marble so he could watch your failure. You saw the fear swimming in his red irises as he looked at you, the stiffness in his stance, the slight shake of his hands. He looked so…helpless. You’d never seen the boy in such a state of despair before. It was haunting. You stood on shaky fawn-like legs, ready to tear that villain apart with your bare hands, no Quirk needed. You wanted to make him pay for the suffering he put not only your class, but what he put everyone at the camp through tonight. But you were stopped with a gentle embrace.

Shoto had looped his arms around your midsection in a cage. You twisted back to yell at him to let you go, to let you save your friend, but his gaze gave his answer to your plea. He knew you couldn’t win. One eye filled with a harsh, cold steel of an unforgiving bind and the other swimming with a depth that rivaled even the ocean’s own fullness, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You thrashed and screamed against Shoto, not believing you wouldn’t come out victorious in this suicide mission. You unconsciously looked at Bakugou for aid, and it was a cruel reminder that he could save you no more. Both of you being held against your will, both of you screaming for help—one screaming bloody murder, one silent as a moonless night. The savior trying to go where the victim was being taken, but the victim commanding them to stay behind.

You’ll never forget the emptiness after Bakugou was fully snatched through the portal. You’ll never forget collapsing to the dirt beside Deku, Shoto’s arm still chained tightly around your middle, and wailing your heart out.

You’ll never forgive the satisfied gleam in that evil man’s eye. Never.

Except it wasn’t Dabi’s hand this time. You looked at the pale flesh, graying and roughed from years of neglect and self hate. The fingernails were chipped and appeared to be chewed with anxiety-ridden coping. Beneath the nails looked like they’d been clawing at a cement wall, dried blood caked underneath the unmanicured bits. The twitching pinky finger dangling frivolously above the target of your shoulder made your blood run cold.

“Miss me?” Tomura Shigaraki mumbled into your ear with a snarl. You’re sure you were shaking, but you couldn’t feel anything other than the stuttery breaths you took in and out. You could only focus on the lone finger judging the worth of your entire life. One movement too erratic and you’re nothing more than a pile of ash sitting in his rotten hands. You saw Endeavor’s mouth moving, he was definitely addressing the villain, but neither of you were paying attention to the fuming man.

“Staying to chat would be fun, but I think I’ll let them do the talking for me. I would rather spend my breath talking to (Y/N) than you losers.” Shigaraki rolled his eyes. He guided you to step aside, and you reluctantly shifted. A sloshing sounded as Kurogiri’s portal grew to be much larger. Once the portal stretched high enough, a figure swished through. They shouldn’t be here. How can they get onto UA’s premises? Doesn’t this place have some kind of security measure to protect the kids, damnit?!

As if he could read your mind, he chuckled to himself, “So nice that UA’s defenses are down for the Purge. So much easier to ransack this place when I can toss a couple of these guys onto the front lawn. Makes this boss fight a clean sweep.” Out from the portal stepped a massive monster you’d come to know as one of Shigaraki’s playthings, a Nomu.

You’d seen a couple before, namely at the USJ when All Might defeated the beast nearly single-handedly and during the time you saved Bakugou from the League and All for One, but you had never been so close that you could reach out and touch it. As it lumbered past you, you could almost taste the horrifying aura it carried. The violence just itching to break out of its skin. Its body was barely keeping the violence it desires at bay. It was easy to tell how badly the creature wanted to claw the heroes to shreds, the short gasp-like breaths it took, and the stomach-turning visual of its exposed brain and nerve endings. Its unblinking eyes held no emotion. No malice, no joy. Nothing. You’d think it was an impressively realistic Halloween animatronic if it hadn’t just shambled past you.

Then, as if this situation couldn’t get any better, a second one appeared from beyond the portal. A carbon-copy of the first, just as horrifying, just as deadly. Then a third. Three of those monstrosities stood in front of you like an impenetrable wall. The barrier of such an evil force left you feeling light headed. This can’t be happening.

“Have fun, heroes! Don’t come looking for them, unless you’re looking to free up some space on the Hero Billboard Chart. Would be a shame if some of Japan’s finest didn’t make it through the Purge, huh?” Shigaraki called out to them with a scratchy cackle. You watched the three pros prep their Quirks and bodies for the fight to come, you then heard banging from the doors of the rooftop. The doors must have been locked as you heard a hell of a ruckus behind it. Though it was a multitude of voices, deep and high pitched, and lots of them. You wondered who it could be. Your teachers? Had they chased after the pros and were intent on winning you back? Or could it be…

Oh no.

Wait. They shouldn't come up here. Please. Not with these things here, not now. The Nomus had no remorse, no moral compass. They’d kill your classmates right where they stood.

“No…wait, my friends are still here. Please—,” this was the only sliver of argument that you posed against Shigaraki, with a shaking lip and a strip of silver tears lining your lower lash line. He revealed in your fear to oppose him.

“Really? Hmm. Perfect.” Shigaraki smiled a repulsive grin at you, his wrinkled red and slightly pink eyes filled with more bloodlust than you’ve known before. He began pulling you back by the shoulder, but you chose to fight. Yanking yourself forward before a different set of hands gripped your arms, your other shoulder, and your waist. You wrung your body left and right, and you felt closer to Bakugou than you ever have before. Trapped and alone, with no foreseeable aid.

Doors banged and the yelling grew louder.

Slimy drool dripped from the blood-thirst Nomus’ mouths onto the cement floor. Frothed mouths itching to latch onto body parts and tear them off.

Hawks, Mirko, and Endeavor had looks of pure panic as they could only watch you getting dragged away. Not because of the threat of the Nomus, but because they were losing you yet again.

Your screams for mercy were only acknowledged by a calloused grasp, minus the pinky, clamping over your mouth.

And just like that, you were gone.

~ To Be Continued… ~

Far away from the light of the outside world, a dark figure resided in the shadows. A large television took up nearly the entire landscape of their wall, illuminating their body with its harsh glow. A smirk lined their lips, entertained with the events unfolding on that fateful rooftop. Multiple cameras showed all angles of the fight, of their disobedience, of their foolishness.

Not you! Heavens no, not you! Never you. You were perfect, always. Always the perfect little damsel in distress. Always the most entertaining morsel. Delicate and bold at the same time. A real palette cleanser from all the other despicable acts they’ve seen before. They’ve had a lifetime and then some to experience the tiresome, dreadfully boring reality they’ve come to unwilling terms with. However, you certainly add a wonderful zing of sweetness and spice to the otherwise flavorless mush they’ve known life to taste like. They want more.

They watched the despair fill your mind, how distraught you became over the mess they’d created. They saw your beautiful eyes, so teary and wide. So much innocence and hope for this crumbling world held inside them.

They stood, brushing off the dust from their clothes, and walked towards the door that caged them inside. Oh, how wonderful it will be to meet you again. Properly, this time.

<3 — Tag List — <3

@humanoid606 • @repostingmyfavs • @bubblymusiclover13 • @sannpei • @caniseethefourthsword • @notleecassisy • @purplemochicat • @screaminginvoids • @livyyz • @lotionlamp • @slaymbo • @ladybug2235 • @serxinns • @lady-ashfade • @todobakudeku2021 • @sky-angel101 • @justastrobruh • @spoiledgordita • @wolfy1984 • @genderfluid-bastard • @puthypirate42069 • @bubblymusiclover13 • @shiftinglover • @skinseeker77 • @des-deswain5621 • @fr3dsw0rld123 • @mary-jinx • @justafishh • @the-rouge-robin • @cassycas0

[chrissdollie]

rapper!chris x singer!reader hcs

a/n: lowkey a collab with @bambi-slxt bc of all the headcanons she sent me LMAOO thank u sweets!! <3

SFW

chri$ is definitely one of the more "soft" rappers. everyone knows that hes a lovesick puppy for you. he doesnt have ONE line including the words "my bitch". instead he replaces them with "my girl" OR "my wife" :((

i think he would 100% make an album fully dedicated to you. kinda like tyler the creator's "call me if you get lost" in a way. for example, in the song "HEAVEN TO ME", tyler explains his dreams. chris would rap about all of the things he wants to do with you and how he sees you in his life forever

he has many features on peace on the beach with my peach since its partially about your guys' sweet relationship! theres moments in the record where there are beautiful beats paired with your heavenly vocals and cute voice cracks while chri$ is dropping barssss (ill make a post ab lyrics i think he'd add)

sososososo supportive of your creative journey. he was with you as you wrote and planned out your extremely personal debut. he even helped out at the studio :c

but then you started adventuring some time after your 2nd-3rd album. you started experimenting with different genres/styles. you created storylines and visuals along with your music.

out of the two of you, chri$ is definitely more famous. anyhow, he got invited to the met gala and had u has his plus one obviously, where you both looked drop dead gorgeous!! i literally cannot see him wearing a basic ass suit and tie to the met. he has to be on your level and match your uniqueness which make you two stand out so much!

when you both got up the steps, he was being interviewed by emma chamberlin, who was also a fan of his. she asked about the creative process of his newly released album and he totallyy put you in the spotlight, saying "yn helped me a lott honestly. she's... literally a genius." he grins, turning to you while keeping his hand on your waist.

you guys like toying with the paparazzi when they're bothering you. you goofballs make silly faces right in the cameras so they back off

one time when you were being interviewed, your sweet boy wrapped his arms around your waist as he listened to you talk. you were a little nervous and stuttered a bit, but chris consoled you by rubbing small circles into your waist and whispering a gentle "it's okay baby" to your ear.

you fangirl on stage when you catch your boyfriend's eyes in the front row. sometimes you entirely stop what you're singing just to giggle and squeal "hiiii honey!!" while twirling your hair like a little girl. the audience cheers with screams when they realize chris is with them in the crowd-- but feels like its only you two in the stadium when he blows you a kiss (some corny shit he never thought he'd do) and mouth the words "i love you".

for the holidays, u two visit homeless shelters and childrens hospitals and perform for everybody <3

imagine just hanging out at the studio with him and your guys' friends. he's manspreading on a leather couch while massaging your feet resting in his lap as you write lyrics in your lap, your friends helping you out as you do.

you knew that somewhere down the line there was going to be some kind of beef. a popular rapper decided to call out chris for something he did years ago as a literal child. you both ignore it until he sends out a tweet about you. something around, "nd his bitch bad asf id hit fs but she a fuckin weirdass childish mf"

you ignore the fact he called u a "weirdass childish mf", you cant care less, many people dont vibe with ur ideas and thats okay!

u do however care about how his girlfriend would react to seeing him wanting to fuck you. and you'd met her before too, she was a little snobbish, but respectful nonetheless. you joked to your boyfriend about dropping your own diss track on him, but he actually seem intrigued. you shut it down almost immediately though, you didn't wanna make something small such a big deal

but at the next big event you guys went to, you found the rapper's girlfriend and showed her his tweet. she thanked you with a furious scowl on her face before she ran off and slapped the shit out of him in front of everybody

chris gets a custom made $5k chain that has ur name and little details that remind him of u around it :((

NSFW

speaking of that chain, he wears it whenever he pounds into you so you'll be reminded of how he's yours.

chris loves ur vocals so much on stage! he finds them beautiful, but he loves them even more in bed.

"cmon mama lemme hear that pretty voice"

in fact, you two created a song just to have playing in the background while you two get intimate

chris audio recorded him eating u out once and you saying, "oh, fuck chris, it's so good!" and he decided to use that as an adlib in his favorite songs OR disses he wrote about someone being a jerk to u

watching chris perform did things to you. seeing him sweat, brushing his gorgeous hair out of his face, putting in so much energy into his performance... it's intoxicating! sometimes you wish he'd just drop the mic, pull you onstage, and make love to you infront of the world.

he talks about marrying you while he's balls deep inside of your wet cunt :( saying how he wants to drop a humongous bag on your ring, give you the wedding of your dreams, and how he desperately wants to hear "missus sturniolo" from others' mouths

chris will totally pop up behind stage after a show and guide you to your dressing room not so subtly. you apologize to your manager before rushing to your private room like a giddy teenager. "wanna see her sweetheart, she wet for me righ' now? oh, there she is.." he coos as he bends down to his knees right in front of your pussy when you pull down your pretty pink stage costume.

@leah-loves-lilies @1everythingmustgo @star-sturn @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee@freshsturns@emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668 @chrissturnsss @joanofarcily @mattscoquette @slutsturn @sturnioloremarker @ashley9282828 @jnkvivi @sturncakez @lanasturn @riasturns @st7rnioioss @strnlxlqve @starlace111 @mattsfavbigtitties @stvrlighht

[bloodlust-1]

Hi. So I loved the story you made about Tav revealing she's a virgin to Astarion. You said we could send prompts so when you're back I would love a story about Tav's first time with Astarion under the stars 🌟🥰.

Love your stories

Thank you 🙏🏾

Okay - Fine! I'll totally give ya a part 2 ;* ! A few people actually requested this so it's about time ;p Since this is a virgin Tav, I wanted to be extremely delicate and detailed with Astarion's actions, while also still being sexy. This is some slowburned passionate smut!!

Lets get into iitttt. Hope you enjoy reading anon!

˚ ° A purity like yours ° ˚ part 2

Lovely photo by @astarionposting

Astarion x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

T/W: Smut!, virginity

Summary: Astarion fulfills his promise to make Tav's first time a beautiful and memorable experience, something he believes she deserves. When he surprises her, things get heated and her first time becomes a memory that'll forever burn into her head.

Notes: This is a part 2 to this story. You don't have to read part 1 to enjoy or understand the storyline, but it just hits different for the ones who did :* <3

The air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers and the sound of crickets chirping. Astarion had been planning this surprise for weeks and now it was finally time to show Tav. He took her hand and led her through the dark forest, carefully avoiding any fallen branches or rocks.

Tav held onto his hand tightly, and the anticipation was welling up inside her. What was it? She had no idea where Astarion was taking her, but she trusted him completely.

Finally, they reached a clearing in the forest and Astarion stopped, turning to face Tav with a soft smile on his face. "Close your eyes," he whispered, "I have a surprise for you."

Tav did as she was told, her heart racing with excitement. She felt Astarion take her hand once again and lead her a few steps forward before coming to a stop.

Tav felt the warmth of his palms on her shoulders. Then, the pressure of his lips pressing against her neck, "Okay, open your eyes."

Tav slowly opened her eyes and gasped in awe at the sight before her. They were standing in a beautiful pasture, surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers. But what took her breath away was the night sky above them. It was filled with countless stars, twinkling in the darkness.

"Astarion..." Tav spoke under her breath, her eyes wide with wonder. "I had no idea..."

And somehow, the moonlight captured Astarion so perfectly under its shine. A small wind blew softly threw his white curls.

Astarion chuckled at her reaction and helped her lie down on the soft grass. "I knew you would love it," he said, lying down beside her.

Tav couldn't take her eyes off the stars, they seemed to go on forever. "I never knew the night sky could be so beautiful," she whispered.

Astarion turned to look at her, his eyes shining with adoration. "Just like you," he said, a hint of awe in his voice. "Your beauty is just as infinite as the stars above us." He shyly averted his eyes back onto the sky.

Tav's eyes welled up with tears and she turned to look at Astarion with a scrunched smile. "Thank you for showing me this,"

Astarion wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I am just glad you like it, my dear," he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Tav couldn't contain herself, wrapping her arms tightly around Astarion and bombarding his face with kisses. "You're the best," she said between giggles.

"And beautiful!" He exclaimed at her sarcastically, or did he really mean it?

Tav rolled her eyes and shook her head with a light heart.

They lay there for what felt like hours, just enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence. Tav could feel Astarion's steady breath against her cheek, and it calmed her nerves.

Without warning, Astarion's hand slipped down to rest on Tav's hip. She stiffened slightly, not expecting the sudden touch. But before she could react, Astarion's hand moved lower, cupping her ass.

Tav's eyes widened in surprise, and before she could speak, Astarion let out a nervous apology under his breath. Tav could see the panic in his eyes, afraid he had crossed a line.

"No -" She felt herself get flustered, but Tav mustered up the courage to reach for Astarion's face, cupping his cheekbone.

"I-I actually...like it," Tav stammered, her eyelashes battered at him shyly.

Astarion's eyebrows raised in shock before a cocky smirk spread across his lips. "Oh, is that so?" he teased, his voice low and playful.

Tav nodded.

Astarion's fingers trailed up the back of her thighs, tickling her skin. Tav squirmed under his touch, feeling a sudden heat between her thighs.

Her breath hitched as Astarion groped her ass, his touch was surprisingly gentle and soft. Tav felt his breath become heavy and he leaned closer to her, his lips hovering just inches from hers.

"You're such a tease," she playfully scolded him, her voice laced with desire.

Astarion just chuckled, his fingers still teasingly caressing her skin. "But you like it," he whispered, his lips now grazing her ear.

Damn, he's right.

Tav liked the way he made her feel, and the way he touched her. With a sudden burst of confidence, she pulled him in for a passionate kiss, gently climbing on top of his body fully.

Astarion's hands gripped Tav's hips, softly tugging them against his groin. He huffed into the kiss, grinding her hips against him with each needy thrust.

Tav's hands slid up Astarion's chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt. She moaned softly while he continued to grind against her, the lace of his shirt now completely undone and hanging loosely around his neck.

Astarion growled low in his throat, his lips moving from hers to trail kisses down her neck. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "If this is what you really want, my love - I can't wait to feel you."

Tav shivered at his words, her body aching with desire. "I want you," she replied, her hands running through his hair as she tugged him closer.

Astarion's hands traveled down her body, his fingers tracing the curves of her waist before sliding under her shirt. He lifted it over her head, revealing her bare skin to him. He helped her kick off her pants as well.

Astarion lifted her by the waist, pushing her to sit straight up on his lap as he laid, "I want to see you from this angle."

Tav looked down on him in her undergarments. This was the most naked she had ever been in front of him, and it made her shudder with anxiousness.

His eyes sparkled, trailing down from her collarbones, breasts, stomach, full thighs, and then the soft cloth of her panties. She was a work of art, a muse.

His hand snaked up her side, with a swift motion he unclipped her bra with one hand; allowing it to sink off her shoulders.

Tav turned her head timidly, hiding her face in as much of her hair as possible.

As her bra fell, her breasts were exposed to the cool air of the night, and Astarion was practically drooling.

"Pretty." Astarion hummed in approval. He reached out for her breast, cupping the soft skin into his palm.

Tav's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She had never been touched like this before and she didn't know how to react. Astarion's hand continued to roam over her chest, his touch gentle and curious.

"Relax, my dear," he whispered, he took her nipple between his fingers. "I will be gentle."

He sat up, one breast in his palm, and his other hand wrapped around her waist.

Astarion's lips trailed down Tav's neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses. He gave her breast a gentle squeeze. Tav gasped at the sensation, her body responding to his touch despite her nerves.

He pulled her closer, his lips now on hers, and Tav melted into his embrace. Astarion's other hand joined in, caressing her other breast, and Tav couldn't hold back a loud moan.

"There it is. how does it feel?" His breath tickled her lips.

"More - please.." Tav shamelessly lowered her head, allowing her whimpers to flow out softly.

Astarion kissed her deeply, and her worries and doubts faded away. Tav gave in to the pleasure, letting Astarion take the lead and guide her through this new experience.

she was grateful to have him as her first. He was gentle and nurturing to her needs and wants.

Astarion continued to explore Tav’s body, hands hungrily stroking every curve, scar, and stretch mark he could dip his fingers on.

Studying her every move, expression, and whimper, Astarion pinned every spot that made her jaw drop and face burn red. He specifically loved the way her lower lip fell when she moaned.

He felt one thing that he had never felt before: In control. And all he wanted to do with it was please Tav.

He continued to kiss her, lacing his tongue with hers. The excitement started to whelm deep into his stomach and as a result, poking Tav’s inner thighs with a full erection.

Astarion became desperate, sloppily kissing her while their tongues twirled together. Their hold got tighten around each other and Astarion pulled away with a sharp breath for air.

“I wonder how you taste." His lips pulled into a smug look and it burned Tav's heart. He was so shameless and knew exactly what he wanted. Why wouldn't be honest with his love?

He pushed Tav's back onto the grass, hovering over her naked body.

Tav's heart raced, and Astarion looked down at her with dominating eyes. She couldn't believe she was here, at this moment, ready to give her virginity.

As he pulled his shirt off, Tav blatantly stared at his abs. But when he removed his pants, his erection building right up, Tav had a wave of nerves wash over her.

Astarion noticed the panic in her eyes and immediately stopped. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, his hand caressing her cheek.

"It's okay, my dear," he whispered, "I'll take care of you."

Tav's heart swelled at his words. She nodded, giving him a small smile. He would take care of her, surely.

His lips trailed down Tav's collarbones, making their way to her breasts. Tav's breath hitched, he took one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it and sending shivers down her spine.

He then moved down her stomach, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and his hands caressing every inch of her skin. When he reached her thighs, Astarion couldn't resist the temptation any longer.

With a devilish glint in his eye, he spread her legs wide and took a deep breath, "Delicious," he murmured, before teasing her inner thighs with his kisses.

Tav squirmed under his touch, her skin tingling from the grazing of his fangs against her thighs. A soft moan escaped her lips, and a trail of hickeys littered her skin.

But it was nothing compared to the sensation when Astarion finally placed a single kiss on her core. Tav's back arched for more, her fingers gripping the blades of grass. A soft gasp left her lips.

"I think we should take this slow, my dear," Astarion whispered against her sex, "After all, it's your first time."

Again, his lips were on her folds, kissing them until his tongue dragged across her wetness. The slick of her core had a sweet tinge that only made him desperate for more.

The tip of his tongue fell onto Tav's clit. It burned in heat compared to his tongue and he slowly traced in all kinds of shapes. His red eyes glared up at Tav, studying which designs made her moan more, whimper, arch her back, and push her hips closer against his mouth.

And when he did find her spot, Tav's became a breathy mess. Cries and whimpers flowed out her mouth like lyrics to her favorite song. Her ankles quivered to each long stroke of Astarion's tongue.

Her stomach knotted deep within her and Tav hastily grabbed a handful of his curls.

"A-aahhh, Don't..S-Stop." She gritted her teeth and her face scrunched in an intense plea to his tongue.

His name cried off her lips.

With a devilish glint in his eyes, Astarion flicked his tongue and teased her most sensitive spot. Tav's moans grew louder and heavier.

It was like he became almost feral. He pushed his face closer to her core, his tongue working even more intensely against her clit. Tav felt a knot forming in her stomach. Tav's body tensed up as she neared her climax.

With one final flick of his tongue, Astarion brought Tav to her peak, her body released itself, and Tav let out a breathy cry. Astarion looked up at her, nodding in approval as he took in her flushed cheeks and ragged breaths.

Tav was left breathless and Astarion quickly covered her mouth with his, their tongues tangled needingly like a drug. Their tongues and teeth clashed together roughly. Their bodies practically hummed with a desire for more.

Finally, they pulled away, their chests rising and falling, both trying to catch their breath. "Wow..I...never felt that - before," Tav huffed, her eyes fell hazy.

Astarion gazed at Tav with a mischievous smirk on his face. "I could say the same, my love," he replied, before pulling her in for another heated kiss.

Tav moaned between the kiss, "I want to make you feel good too."

"Open your mouth," Astarion commanded as he fit himself perfectly between her legs.

Tav obeyed, and his slender fingers slipped into her mouth. She sucked on them eagerly, wetting them with her tongue. His eyes coldly pushed them deeper into her throat until she gagged.

"You're such a good pup," Astarion praised, his voice husky with desire. He used her saliva to lubricate his cock before placing it at the entrance of her core.

"Are you ready?" His red eyes pierced Tav's, and with teary eyes, she nodded yes.

With a slow and steady pace, Astarion pushed his hips forward, sliding himself into her. Tav clutched onto his arms and winced at the sharp pain, but Astarion's face faded somber at the sound of her cries.

"Shhh...There, there. Try to relax," he comforted her, giving her a moment to adjust to his length. Tav pulled him closer into a hug, tightly shutting her eyes into his nape.

Astarion gently rubbed the back of her head with his hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles on her skin. Tears welled up in Tav's eyes, but she spoke to Astarion through the pain.

"I can feel you," Tav hummed in a soft voice, admiration.

His heart skipped a beat at her words. They were finally one, and it made him fall in love with her all over again.

Astarion rarely became nervous, but Tav's words shook him, "A-Alright, I'm going to go slow, my love..."

With each thrust of his hips, Astarion could feel Tav's grip tighten around him, and he let out a low grunt of pleasure against her neck. Tav's body responded eagerly to his, and soon they were moving in perfect rhythm together.

Tav's nails dug into Astarion's shoulder blades, dragging lines down his back until it rested on his hips. Tav forced his hips down with her palms closer to her groin.

Their bodies were slick with sweat as they moved against each other, and Tav's moans mingled with Astarion's grunts. At that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of them, lost in their lust.

Astarion grabbed Tav's thigh, forcibly pulling her leg up tighter into his cock. He pumped skillfully into her sex, closing his eyes as his body greedily melted to the sensation.

Fuck, Astarion's mind went blank. Sex was never for pleasure. Not in his world, but in this moment; there was something special about the way his spine shivered and his skin crawled.

Without a word, Astarion took hold of Tav's wrists and pinned them above her head, glaring down at her with carnal lust. Only a gasp left her lips.

"I'm going to take everything I want from you, my love, greedily and passionately."

Wasting no time, his hips rocked against Tav's, their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces.

Tav mewled a loud moan, the roughness of Astarion's thrusts almost bordering on pain. But it was a good kind of pain, one that sent shivers down her spine and made her toes curl.

"Astarion!" she cried out, her voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation. "Fuck...n-nghh!"

Astarion's own moans mixed with hers, his breath hot against her skin as he continued to drive into her with each thrust. Tav's walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper and deeper inside her.

Their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, each moan and gasp pushed them closer and closer to the edge. Tav's mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of Astarion's cock inside her.

"Harder, Astarion," she begged, her voice rasped raw with need.

And he obliged, his movements becoming rougher and more urgent and they both approached their climax. Tav's moans turned into cries of ecstasy while her body trembled beneath Astarion's hold.

With one final thrust, Astarion let out a loud moan. His length twitched three times, filling Tav before collapsed on top of her. Their bodies were still entwined.

When he pulled out, a small sheen of blood covered his tip.

Astarion captured Tav's lips, and his eyes fluttered hazily. He then pulled Tav into a hug and they lay in each other's arms, panting and catching their breath. They may have started as strangers, but in that moment, they were truly one and it was a feeling that he never wanted to let go of.

"You're amazing," Astarion kissed Tav's forehead, "How do you feel?"

"I feel ruined - but in the best way possible." Her mouth hung open, still catching her breath.

Astarion clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Darling, you will be feeling deliciously sore in all the right places tomorrow."

"You really think so?" Tav's glossy eyes widened with a flush of red burning her cheeks.

Astarion was so right. The lingering ache would serve as a sweet memory of their passionate and unforgettable night together.

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

[tojikai]

Permanent Mark⁺ : FORLORN

Grateful to @mikeyslvrr for commissioning and for the support~♡

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Permanent Mark Masterlist

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, death, mentions of pregnancy, implied suicide

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this alternate storyline imagines what could have happened if Y/N had faced a different fate.

He's merely a ghost, beseeching to be haunted by your echoes.

I’ll make things right. I shouldn’t be too late, right? My Y/N and I will be fine. The moment she wakes up, I will apologize. I’ll tell her I messed things up. That I made the wrong decision. That I’m coming home with her. That I’ll never leave again. 

We’re gonna make it. 

We’re gonna make it. 

We’re gonna make it. 

“She didn’t make it.” 

Satoru’s steps halted. The world halted. He's been pacing back and forth in the hospital corridor. Despite the chaos of the people coming in and out of the hospital, the voices bouncing on the white walls, and the cries of families who want nothing but to go home with their loved ones, the ticking of Satoru’s wristwatch is still the loudest. 

It felt like every second added another boulder on his shoulder, making it harder to drag his feet on the tiled walls. Rie looked like she’d been awake all night when they’d only been here for a couple of minutes. Satoru could almost feel the blood behind his eyes, his nerves waiting to burst and he would be covered in it. 

Covered in blood, drenched in guilt, weighed down by regrets.

The doctor’s words reverberated inside his head. The roof of his mouth felt strangely hot as he heard cries behind him. Then, he was tackled to the ground. He didn’t even try to fight back, he just welcomed each blow that his best friend threw on his face, growling “You fucking bastard,” He could hear Rie screaming and his vision blurring as he struggled to stand up, “Y/N, let me see my Y/N.” It was an incoherent murmur as he tried to get to her door.

He was a bit dizzy from the blow and his knees were too weak to fight back. He felt like a bird with tied wings as two people restrained him from going to the room. Satoru could tell that his nose was bleeding but this is nothing compared to losing you. 

The irreversibility of his mistakes is now staring him right in the face and he has no choice but to stare back.

He can hear Suguru cursing him out while his tears bring forth realizations: Your parents were inside, after a long time of absence and months of separation from you, this is the first time that they’re seeing you again, not even breathing. The last thing you’d remember of them was how they never cared, neglecting you until you lost colors.

And Satoru… the last thing you'll remember of him will be his anger, his hatred, and the pain he caused you by turning your years of love into dust. The last thing you'll remember of him will be how he put someone else above you, even though he was the summit of your world.

The last thing you’ll remember is being unloved. By your family. By the man you love. 

Satoru tried to claw his way past the arms that were holding him back, begging for just a glimpse. He cannot believe that it’s true unless he sees you. But even if he does…his brain and his heart wouldn’t allow him to believe it too. The next thing made everything impossible for him as he lost strength in all of his limbs and eventually blacked out.

“Y/N.” He called out one last time before closing his eyes. 

—---------------------------------

Earlier

You can hear your sobs, and your heartbeats are like loud knocks in your ears. You sped up, vision spinning but this is nothing compared to the throbbing pain in your chest. You want to go as fast as you can, believing that maybe then your wheels would burn and dry all the tears that are running down your face. Everything around you was softened by the pools in your eyes.

Even the setting sun looked like a watercolor painting before you, the second brightest thing in your world.

You bit your lip to control your sadness from spilling out. You want to block out the words he said to you, you want to forget how he looked at you there. How those eyes you still love so much now look at you with such reproach, almost disdainful. Even at that moment, they still look so vibrant, enough to color a town. You let out a strained gasp, grasping your shirt as you come to a realization:

You will be stuck in this monochrome box as he paints someone else’s home. 

Before you knew it, the sun had disappeared and there was only darkness in front of you. You blinked away your tears but it didn’t work. Where am I driving? You asked yourself but it was too late to hit the brakes. For a very short moment—a split second even—your flesh trembled before you heard a loud crash. 

And then there was nothing. The sun was eaten up by that darkness in front of you and engulfed you along with it. Your body doesn’t feel like it belongs to you. You hear voices but the sound is distorted when they reach your ears. You couldn’t move. Slowly, you felt like you were sinking to the ground. The noises were getting faint and you could barely feel your heartbeat in your chest.

You slipped in and out of your consciousness, each time more chaotic than the last. There was the sound of the siren and a white dancing light pointing directly into your eyes. You can barely feel the air entering your lungs. Am I dying? You wanted to ask but your body was too numb. 

If you are, this is going to be your second death today. 

—---------------------------------

“Just let me be with her for a bit, Ma'am. Please,” Satoru didn't stop the tears from coming as he begged your mother. He knows he doesn't deserve it; he doesn't deserve to mourn you but there's nothing he wouldn't do. After everything that happened at the party, it all felt like a nightmare to him; something so unreal that up until now he still refuses to believe it.

His mother was with him during the burial, as he begged on his knees for a last moment. But your parents weren’t as soft as you. Even as he looked into your kind father’s eyes, he couldn’t find an ounce of pity. Why would he feel sorry for the man who tore his daughter apart? Out of all the hurtful things your mother has said, your father’s last words to Satoru are the ones that scarred him the deepest. It will haunt his ghost til its next life:

“I hope your guilt doesn’t consume you as completely as my daughter’s love for you did to her.”

Finding out about your pregnancy was another knife, twisting in his chest. The fact that you never found out was another bullet to his heart. So, you weren’t the only one he abandoned that day. Your heart wasn’t the only one he broke. It wasn’t just your own sadness you were carrying inside you but the unborn future’s lamentation too. 

Til the very end, the people looked at him as nothing but a man with clean hands and a blood-stained shirt. “Come to think of it, even in her last moments she saved you.” Suguru spat at his face when they ran into each other during the funeral. The main reason for the accident was your alcohol intoxication. But Suguru knows too damn well why it all happened.

The only one that wept with him was the sky. The thunders screamed the same accusations at him. The people will see his cries as tears of guilt but no one will understand how his heart died with you in that hospital bed. No one will know how the things he did will forever sleep with him under his pillows, hammering words into his head.

Rie is a strong woman, watching him on his knees, bawling his eyes out as he screamed his love for you to nothingness. She’s a tough woman, entering his room only to hear him label his relationship with her as a mistake, wailing for a do-over. She’s a brave woman who holds him in her arms, whispering her love for him only to be answered with murmurs of I’m sorry’s.

Rie is strong, but a month is too long to stay with someone who will forever yearn for another.

She was hoping for him to stop her, maybe just ask her to give him time, it wouldn’t have mattered how long but he never did. “I’m sorry.” He said, nodding as he traced the mouth of his cup. “Will you be fine?” She asked, first, out of concern and second, to allow a bit of time in hopes that he’d change his mind.

“No, but it’s alright.” He spoke, eyes void of emotion. They almost looked more grey rather than blue now. “Whatever that has happened is on me. I shouldn't have even let it happen.” She knows that he’s not just referring to the accident. His blunt confession of how his relationship with her was a mistake sends a chill down her spine and an ache in her entire being.

How could he so openly tell her that he regrets being with her? 

She guessed it was a small price to pay for taking part in breaking someone’s heart. And the larger bill was outside, lurking as she was faced with whispers in every company she tried working on, the continuous ringing of the numbers she called, and the neverending hours of one-sided conversations with her friends.

The rust of guilt will eat away at her bones as she tries to crawl back to where she came from.

Shoko was never the one to hold grudges. But for the longest time, she couldn’t talk to Satoru. She’d find herself spending most of her free time with you, even if she never got answers. Then she’d leave again like she always did before. If she regrets something, it’d be not being to be with you as much as she should be as a friend. Her job doesn’t allow for much time for rest.

Just like how it doesn’t allow enough time for mourning. 

“You need to start continuing your life. You’re just insulting Y/N being like that now.” She looked away as she lit a cigarette. She called Satoru over to her clinic today, worried about how his mother called her crying when he wouldn’t answer his phone. It’s almost been a year since your passing and she could barely recognize him. 

“Do you know where Suguru is?” He asked, voice hoarse as he licked his cracked lips. Shoko was grateful that his mother chose to take over his business. It’ll only fall down with him like this. He was breathing but barely alive. “Do not try to talk to him.” That’s the only thing she said, but Satoru already understands.

Suguru didn’t want to blame his friend when he was obviously devastated too. But hearing the doctor’s words that day, the first thing he thought of was that if Satoru hadn’t provoked it, you wouldn’t have left and driven drunk. He’d sound selfish if he said he was the most crushed of them all but how else does he cope with a loss of a love that never began?

The last time he’s been to your grave was on the burial day. He never went back again. He thought that maybe if he didn’t see it as much, his mind wouldn’t think of it like that. Maybe his mind wouldn’t remember your death. Maybe he can fool himself into thinking you’re just somewhere far away, working at your mother’s company.

“You don’t get to feel sad. You don’t get to feel sad as much as I do. Not when you already killed her before she even died in that accident.” He pulled at his friend's collar as tears streamed down their faces. “You don’t get to feel sad after what you’ve done, Satoru.” Suguru fears that even after years, he’d still feel resentment for his friend.

“If you weren’t planning on treating her well, you should’ve just let me love her instead, Satoru.” He let his shirt go along with the emotions he was hiding. “If you weren’t planning on keeping her, you should’ve just left her alone.” He whispered, stepping away as he turned his back to him, regaining his composure. This man is grieving too, he reminded himself.

The grief was heavier than the sea of blue in his eyes.

He looked so drained, like he died along with you and maybe he did, because staring into his eyes, Suguru couldn’t find his best friend anymore. When confronted by the uncontrollable materialization of the consequences of their actions, humans deteriorate from the inside.

He wanted to hug him, to cry with him, and let him put some of his heaviest feelings on him but he couldn't. “Live well, Satoru. Y/N wouldn’t want you like this,” He sniffed, running a hand down his face as he turned to his friend again, tapping his shoulder before stepping out. 

It’s so hard to feel bad for someone who brought the tragedy upon themselves.

Years will pass and Satoru remains the same, an empty skeleton of who he was before, a vessel of memories and the love you generously left, a cage of regret, guilt, and suffering that he harvested from bad seeds that he planted. “It shall pass,” The doctor said, passing him a blister pack, “You’ll feel better with time.” It just makes him want to laugh. The man doesn’t understand that what he needs can’t be found in this world.

He would lie awake for hours, with exhaustion gnawing at him but still his eyes remained stubbornly open. Reality was punishing him by keeping him awake, blocking out his only means of escape and portal to you. Drinking wasn’t a solution, it was more of a problem. There was this one time that he drank so much, he thought he was seeing you. 

His mother found him on his knees, his forehead touching the floor as he begged you to come back, apologizing to the air as his tears hit the tiles of his house. It’s no use, you will never come back and even then, his hallucinations of you were inanimate, unmoving, and cold. 

He gazed at a jar filled with wilting flowers on the table—some had lost their color, while others were on the verge of fading. Standing up, he fetched a new one in his jacket’s pocket and cut off its stem before carefully placing it with the others.

These flowers came from the bouquets that he left on your grave. Each time he’d visit, he’d take one flower with him and keep it in this jar. It’s his way of coping, thinking that he still has a piece of you with him. It felt both comforting and painfully inadequate. Satoru doubts that anything will ever change in his life. Even if each person on Earth introduces someone or something new to him, nothing will fill the void.

Satoru wondered if you saw him as others do: merely guilty, not genuinely in love. It’d be another blow to his already beaten-up heart. Listening to the ticking of the clock, his shadow cast on the wall of his room. The quiet was eerie; it had been for years. This house had lost its colors long ago. 

It is during these times when he remembers how you’d spent sleepless nights together, just soaking in the presence of one another. Maybe if he sleeps, he’d dream of how you used to rest your head on his chest. Taking the last of his pill, Satoru stared at his ceiling one last time.

As he closed his eyes, he prayed to wake up beside you. 

Permanent Mark Masterlist

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part One

Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - angst, mentions of war, tension, fluff, touch of sadness and longing

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

Rain spattered against the ledge, the open window allowing the tears of the sky to coat the black glossed paint with their sadness. Azriel watched them inquisitively, noting how each droplet fell further into the room than the last, his shadows pecked along the ground to dry the dampened spots and it was a welcome distraction from the conversation encircling the room.

The storm raged on overhead, cracks of lightening slicing across the sky every few moments, the clouds rumbling their anger throughout the city. A harmony to the idea of war.

There was no avoiding it. The war, that is. It had consumed Azriel's every thought as he played out every possible scenario in his mind, ones where they all made it out alive, and the ones where they all perished alongside Prythian. It was those visions that kept him up at night, flashes of Cassian's bloodied face lifeless against the earth, wings torn and soul withered, were enough to make him desperate enough to the point that he'd give anything to avoid it.

Azriel ran his marred hands over the curve of his leathers, soothing down each muscle and drifting over every glowering siphon attached to his body, doing his best to pull himself from the images that plagued his waking moments and sleepless nights.

If Rhys were speaking then Azriel would have been listening, but, surprisingly, he wasn't. Rhys stared dead ahead, nails digging into his nails beds and jaw clenching along with the reeling thoughts plaguing his own mind, staring right ahead at the corner of the table placed in the centre of the seating area at the River House. Azriel wasn't the only one who noticed, Amren had halted her words to slice through his train his thought, "Are you going to say anything?"

Rhys' gaze pulled from its formerly trained spot at the table edge toward his second in command, and it was clear that there was something he wasn't sharing with his family. His eyes drifted about the room, landing on each one of them in turn before they landed on Feyre and wavered slightly. Azriel couldn't blame his brother for his fear, he had finally gotten everything he had ever wanted after all the horrors he had endured, and now that picture perfect life was being threatened.

But something still wasn't right. Rhys was too consumed in his mind to pay any real attention to what Amren was saying, what plans were being spoken of, and that wasn't like Rhys. It wasn't like Rhys at all to blatantly ignore words spoken that could aid them in their collective efforts against Hybern. Azriel couldn't exactly be too picky about it though, considering he too was ignoring the firedrake fumbling plans into fruition, also too consumed by his own demons.

"The High Lords will be convening in three days time," his words were tense, his eyes burning, "Give me one night to think. We can start on this tomorrow," Rhys ran his hand over his face and leaned back in his chair, inhaling deeply and pinching the bridge of his now.

"The future of this continent, your home, is threatened, and you wish to speak of this tomorrow?" Amren scoffed, her silver eyes dancing under the faelight in warning.

Rhys rose from his seat, having had enough of the incessant drawls of war and death and offered Feyre his hand, a hand that she took willingly and stood at his side, fingers wrapped around his forearm and body drifting beside him, "Yes, I do. I cannot think when this is all you're speaking of, Amren. I am High Lord, and I need to think about how to spare my family and my people from this."

Instead of retorting in a way only she could, Amren contained her fury and buried it deep within her core, "Fine." Amren almost spat at his feet, but he paid no mind to it, he didn’t have the energy to go head-to-head with Amren that night, not when there was a much more pressing matter to attend to.

So, Rhys took Feyre to bed, and made sure that she was sound asleep before removing himself from her embrace. He threw an onyx silken shirt over his body but didn’t bother strewing up any of the buttons, content in allowing the night air to glide across his skin, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to able to appreciate its touch.

The High Lord of Night paced through the River House swiftly, not wanting to disturb any member of his family or alert them to his movements, and as soon as he stood on an ornately stunning balcony, the same he had stood on with Feyre that night on Starfall, did he unfurl his glorious wings and take to the skies, determined to reach the place that he hadn’t visited in over 200 years. A pool of starlight lay within a small valley within the mountains, not too far from the cabin but recluse enough for no one to be able to find it unless they knew that it lay there.

It had been too long since he had been there, but the all too familiar aura curled around him like a lost hound and pulled him down to it. The pool twinkled in greeting, reflecting the endless wonder of the sky above, and Rhys then remembered just how small it was, and just how long it had been since he peered into it or drifted his fingers along its rippling surface.

None other than he knew of what it truly was - not even his mate- it was a thin veil between worlds, a veil he used to send messages through often in hope that they’d find the one intended for, and he would wait for hours at a time for a whisper of a response. One time he had waited an entire day, desperate to hear her voice on the wind, hauntingly mesmerising like a siren to a sea captain, replying to his message with her usual level of warmth and understanding.

Then one day he just stopped visiting the place, the weight of her void had become too much to bear, too much that he had made the selfish decision to try and move on, to live his life in anyway that he could. Part of Rhys thought that she would have commended him for it, that she would have understood and that she was somewhere and knew of his strength, pain, and success of finding his mate.

But it had been so long. Rhys wasn’t sure if the pool was being monitored from her end, and he was terrified that his plea would fall upon deaf ears. But she was the only one who could help them, the only one powerful enough to give them any real chance of surviving. That power was the reason she had been sent away in the first place.

Rhys fell to his knees at the bank of the water, the contact of his markings without their twin flames in the snow causing the pool to ripple and hum with eons old yearning, and the stars within it began to glow, eager and ready to pull his words from his lips and sail them through the veil. He lowered himself to the surface, his face reflecting in the water showing him just how exhausted he had appeared, and the pool knew it, it knew of his desperation and rippled in a way that Rhys was sure it would split open at any given moment.

But, the water settled and shuddered, the gate between him and the one he thought of often still firmly in place.

"I'm sorry that it's been so long," he began, not knowing what to say to soften the blow but wanting to believe that she wasn't angry at him for it, and hoping that she too was thriving wherever her feet carried her. "If it means anything, I have missed you, and not a day has passed where I haven't thought of you," he fiddled with his fingers, his breath sending gentle wisps of steam rising into the air, "I found my mate. You'd like her, I think. She's my High Lady now, things have certainly changed."

"We are going to war. The Cauldron is in the grasp of our enemy and it threatens to devour the continent as we know it, and I fear that none of us with survive the destruction. I suppose I just wanted to speak to you, to say that I'm sorry I haven't visited in so long, and to let you know that I love you despite our distance. I may not survive what's to come, but I just wanted you to know that, and if there's any way you could come and save my ass then that would be greatly appreciated," he spoke the last words with a soft chuckle.

Rhys often thought of what she looked like, she had been only a girl when she was sent away, thrust through a portal with no way of knowing how to get back if she wished it. The day he heard her whisper through the pool had been the best day of his life, and on some level, he knew it still was in a sense. In those days, Rhys knew that she was alive, she may have been struggling but at least her heart was still beating and soul was raining havoc.

He wasn't sure of what he was expecting, he knew the chances of a reply were slim to nothing, but his heart still sank when the pool rippled with intoxicating silence.

Rhys waited another hour at least, but when the stars within the pool began to dim, he knew that it was time to leave. He rose to his feet, his soul solemn and heavy, and he couldn't bring himself to glance backward at the water as he ascended to the skies.

It was a pity really, for if he had turned around for but a moment, he would have seen the pool sparkle to life.

Azriel was curious.

It wasn't often that he found Rhys to be hiding something from him, or any of them for that matter. It was the beauty of their shared family, they knew all of the worst things about one another, from actions to thoughts, and nothing was counted as being too ferocious to accept.

But Azriel knew that Rhys was hiding something, his High Lord had been on edge from the moment he had returned to the River House after sneaking out that night, under the impression that no one had known of his time away. But Azriel knew everything, every single move was accounted for thanks to his shadows and his own keen hearing.

The Shadowsinger had merely thought that Rhys needed a moment to himself to think, but as the time stretched on, it seemed that Rhys was on a mission of sorts, and Azriel's suspicions became clear when he saw his brother the next morning, hair askew and eyes occasionally flickering through the window to a certain spot against the mountain face.

Rhys had worn the same expression for three days, not even Feyre could get him to talk to her about what it was that had him so concerned. But Azriel couldn't miss the longing in his eyes each time he passed by the window, like he was expecting someone to float up to the glass pane and solve all of their problems.

The day had come to meet with the High Lords, and the location had been set at the Dawn Court Palace, Thesan had always been the perfect mediator, besides, Cassian had been banned from Summer which automatically ruled that location from the list.

To Azriel's understanding, Rhys hadn't uttered a single word to anyone all morning, not even a single scold toward Cassian and Mor for their incessant bickering. It was worrying Feyre, Azriel noticed, he saw the emotion sketched into her furrowed brow each time she would try and speak to her mate to only be ignored. It seemed as though only Azriel and Feyre, and perhaps Amren, had noticed it.

The silence continued all the way to the Dawn Court, and Rhys' brooding only lightened when Helion appeared after his lacklustre greeting to Kallias and Viviane, spurring Rhys to remember the reason why they were there, what they had to do in order to give Prythian a fighting chance against Hybern and the Cauldron.

Helion jerked his chin toward Feyre, asking, "Does Tamlin know what she is?"

Rhys, his sadness wavering for a moment as they stood before the doors to the meeting chamber, spoke, "If you mean beautiful and clever, then yes - I think he does."

Azriel watched Helion closely, taking a tentative step toward his High Lord and Lady as the High Lord of Day sent Rhys a unimpressed flat glare, "Does he know that she is your mate, and High Lady?"

Ignoring Viviane's squeal, Rhys answered, picking a loose thread from his jacket and allowing it to float to the ground, "If he arrives then I suppose we will find out."

"I always liked you, Rhysand," Helion said after a lethally dark chuckle, knowing just how powerful he was in comparison to Rhys' brothers; he rolled his shoulders and glanced to Nesta, his gaze lingering whilst he enquired of who she was.

"She is my sister," Azriel didn't miss the muffled flinch that sliced across Rhys' face, "She will tell her story when the others are here."

Skittering steps against the pale golden stone pulled the attention of the Inner Circle toward Thesan who was surrounded by his highly alert Peregryns, beings who seemed a little too on edge.

"I hate to interrupt," Thesan drawled with wary eyes before they landed on Rhys, "But there is a woman I have never seen before in the meeting chamber, she says that you sent for her."

No one could miss how Rhys' entire body language changed from lax to urgent, his posture straightening and eyes boring into the doors of the chamber as though he could see through them; his breathing quickened, and it became apparent that whoever the woman was had been the cause of his ire for the last three days.

Begrudgingly, Rhys followed Thesan's order to wait for the others, Tarquin seemed less than pleased to be stood before Rhys, and it wasn't long until Beron and Eris rounded the corner of the corridor, sneering and spitting their horrid words, sending warning glares to Cassian and Azriel in particular for the scuffle between the two courts over the now High Lady of the Night Court and Lucien Vanserra.

Opening the doors, the woman lounging in the chair facing their entrance was not the person Rhys had been longing to see, Azriel deduced that much from the instant droop of his shoulders before he fully even saw her face. She sat in one of the deep rooted chairs, legs strewn over the arm and a dagger pricking into each one of her fingers, not hard enough to break the skin.

She was glad in a green dress that extenuated her long legs and her utterly wild scent had enveloped the room, a scent of lemon verbena and crackling embers, her blonde hair was well tamed and pinned backward in a loose yet luxurious ensemble, and power poured off of her in searing waves.

"And who exactly are you?"

A grin formed on her lips at the defensive question directed her way by Helion, and she rolled her eyes incredulously in response, sliding her legs from the arm and propping her elbows upon them, "Is that any way to greet a guest?" The tip of her dagger scratched into the wood of her seat, a curved and lethal weapon not of Prythian, "They really don't have any manners," she spoke loudly, directing the comment elsewhere.

Large hands clasped around the back of her seat and a flash of white hair reflected against the dying sunlight, "She did tell us that they were going to be apprehensive of us, Fireheart." The woman hummed, seemingly unphased by who she was trapped in a room with, anyone else would have been quaking in their boots at the knowledge of it.

"I didn't think she was being serious-"

"You haven't answered the question. Tell us who you are and why you're here, or-"

"Or what?" The woman's gold ringed eyes glistened, hungry and bristling with a flame Rhys, nor any of them, had ever witnessed. She rose from the seat, "You'll hurt us? I'd like to see you try."

Azriel stuck to Feyre and Rhys, sizing up the male with the tattoos in an ancient language littered down the side of his face, and that only seemed to make the male smirk, "Don't think about it. You wouldn't last a minute."

Tension simmered in the chamber, the High Lords of Prythian bar one faced the two strangers who looked much like them but were different in every single way imaginable.

Only when a click of heels entered the room followed by an exasperated sigh, did the two strangers grin, their offensive stance dissipating before Rhys' very eyes as they turned to make room for another.

"You'll come to rather enjoy Aelin's wit," a voice as mesmerising as the crashing summer waves called into the simmering silence, a voice so perfect that it had Rhys almost whimpering in disbelief as he took a step forward. Another woman appeared adorning a playful smirk, "And the vein in Rowan's forehead."

Azriel studied her, even his shadows couldn't stop themselves from peeking over his shoulders at the sound of her melodic voice, one so calming that it had them dancing toward it. She was by far one of the most incredible creatures Azriel had ever seen, dressed in an impeccable midnight blue gown that exposed her taut legs, allowing Azriel to see the two markings delicately placed below her knees, the twins to Rhys' own. Her hair was as dark as the night and swaying with each step, eyes as violet as the summer horizon that were lovingly teasing her companions, and she moved with a grace Azriel had never encountered in all of his years. A crown composed of onyx stone flowers and jewels curled around her head and glittered in the slowly decaying light, it was delicate and rested just over her ears, keeping her skin free from the imprint of it.

But it wasn't the crown nor the dress that had really stolen Azriel's eye, no, it was the pristine pair of feathered wings that were tucked neatly behind her back, not wings of an Illyrian, but wings of some form of angel Azriel presumed. They resembled the night sky, black and speckled with silver, and the longer Azriel focused on them, the more he struggled to believe that they weren't enriched feathers of pure starlight.

Rhys loosened a breath of disbelief, and his bottom lip quaked softly as he took her in, eyes trailing up her form and resting on her face, not believing who was stood before him but thanking the Mother all the same, "You came."

With her dress swaying in the breeze infiltrating the room from the open arches of the chamber, she faced Rhys and smiled sadly, taking a moment to drink him in just as he had with her before she answered, "You called."

"I didn't think you heard me," he took another step toward the curve of the pool, slowly but surely closing the gap between them, "You've grown."

"I've always heard you," their features were so strikingly similar, and Azriel was grasping onto any memory or mention of the female before his eyes, "And, if I hadn't have grown in over 500 years I'd be quite concerned."

Rhys laughed, throwing his head back and lips stretching into a smile of pure bliss, he didn't stop his steps this time, no, he allowed his feet to carry him all the way to her and bundled her up in his embrace, inhaling the scent of her deeply into his lungs "Hello sister."

Sister.

The two strangers, Aelin and Rowan, took a step back, serene smiles on their faces as they watched, seemingly understanding what it meant for the Rhys and the female, "Hello you," she replied, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly, "Someone mentioned that you have a mate now?"

Rhys pulled backward and sent her a look of wonderment, "I do. Feyre, darling? Would you?" He extended an arm out to her and Feyre wasted no time in joining him, "This is y/n. My sister."

"Well, half-sister, but we don't take notice of the specifics," she grinned at Rhys and softly nudged him, "It's an honour to meet you, Feyre Cursebreaker."

"How do you-"

She waved her hand dismissively, "I know many things."

"It's true, it's extremely annoying," Aelin spoke flatly nestled under Rowan's arm, the fire in her eyes softening.

Glancing about, Azriel became completely aware of just how much the beauty of y/n had captured the attention of all within the room, from the hue of her skin to the glossy black of her hair, from the curve of her jaw to the strikingly vibrant eyes that had stolen Azriel's breath from the moment the light had hit them.

She was undeniably Rhys' sister, but Azriel was sure that Rhys had only ever had one, and she died years ago.

"I'm sorry, but how?" Cassian couldn't help but ask, drawing the attention of everyone to him, he glanced to Azriel who shrugged, confirming that he knew nothing of the female before their very eyes.

Y/N smiled softly, her eyes dimming slightly and promised, "My," she looked to Rhys for a moment, "Our story-" her gaze returned to Cassian, but not before gently floating over Azriel and widening slightly, "-is one for a different day. Prythian is in danger and you need help, I'm here to provide it."

"What about us?"

"One more word Aelin and I'll send you back home, I'm sure Aedion would love to take your place."

Aelin gasped, "You don't mean that."

"Try me. See where you land this time round."

Aelin grimaced, recounting the time y/n had shoved her through one of her fancy test portals to only land in the foulest smelling swamp she had ever experienced. She kept her lips sealed and moved to the seat where she had been sat minutes before with a forced smile, prompting the rest of the occupants of the chamber to do the same.

The Shadowsinger moved with the rest of the Inner Circle, finding his place beside his High Lord and Lady, which was just a stones throw away from y/n, and he found himself completely lost in the scent of a brewing storm, his shadows unwinding from his body as it flooded his lungs and fighting through invisible storm clouds in order to brush against her for even a moment, to taste her skin and shudder at the power laced within it.

Crossing her leg over the other, Azriel watched y/n recline into the comfort of the seat, doing his best to not make his awe so obvious whilst she took a moment to gaze upon every person in the room, her eye lingering on a certain Autumn heir with a level of intrigue before she spoke with a feline grin, "So, you're all on the verge of death. Tell me more."

Author's Note

Trying a different writing style with this one - let me know what you think x

[enwoso]

A cute blurb of Lovie having the best time playing dolly’s with all the new youngsters on the team (Katie, Viv, Freya, Michelle) and having the best time

NEW FRIENDS — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

it was pre-season and the team had been spending an evening together. a lot of the girls playing some sort of card game. it sometimes getting quite competitive at times.

but alessia was getting wary, you had been quite for a while. which wasn’t always a good sign as sometimes that would mean you were up to no good. not always but it was usually a good indication.

“had anyone seen lovie?” alessia asked as the round of cards had just finished the girls shaking their heads as the cards were thrown onto the table to be reshuffled before the next game.

“actually i seen her, she was dragging freya along to play whatever she was playing” lia said as she placed her cards back on the table. remembering seeing you pull freya and a couple of the young gunners along.

“oh good god knows what she’s doing then” alessia sighed as she began to stand up from her seat next to codi, “i’ll quickly go and check on her!”

alessia followed the hushed sound of your talking along with the voices of the young gunners voice and as she turned the corner she doesn’t know what she expected you to have roped the young girls into doing but you siting and playing dolly’s with the girls was definitely not top of the list.

she stood at the doorway and watched as you had a full story line going on with the young gunners; freya, viv, katie and michelle all with doll in their hand as they played along with your little imagination.

alessia soon clicked that the storyline you had was of that the dolls were the arsenal girls just with different names. a smile couldn’t help but creep on your mummy’s face before alessia fake coughed to make her presence known to the small group of girls.

“hi mummy!” you beamed as a small hello came from the young gunners too.

“i see you’ve made some new friends!” alessia raised an eyebrow as you nodded. alessia knew she was being a little exaggerate with that, of course you knew of the young gunners the group of them having been on the team that traveled to australia and they’d been in and around the first team for the past season, so of course you knew them.

this was just the first time she had seen any of them properly sitting down and interacting with you instead of a usual hello or little wave every time they seen you in and around the team.

“yes! we playing a game” you explained the game and just like alessia thought, you were playing your own little version of arsenal but with different names.

“this is you less!” viv held up a blonde barbie, “but her name is alyssa. tiny’s idea, all the names were” viv carried on as alessia laughed at the name choice.

“let’s hear them then!”

“this is leanne and you can probably guess who this is by the frown!” katie joked as she held up a barbie again with blonde hair and a bob with two longer bits at the front, one basically identical to leah’s.

another giggle came from alessia as she listened to each explanation, “i love it!”

“this is kacey and she’s loves yellow cards and just the colour yellow in general!” michelle laughed as she held up a brunette barbie dressed all in the colour yellow with a bit of green.

“this is betty and she loves dogs look she even had her own called milo” freya held up another barbie which had a little puppy dog accessorie, a knowing nod coming from alessia as she knew exactly who that was.

“and this is jones! and he tells everyone how to play football!” you held up a male barbie as alessia hummed as she listened a little more to your little fantasy world you’d created with the young gunners.

“well this sounds lovely and i won’t interrupt anymore!” alessia said as she tapped her knees ready to stand back up. “if you need me i’ll be out there with the girls” alessia smiled looking at you but more talking to the group of young gunners as she placed a light kiss to your cheek before leaving you to get back to your own little world with your new friends.

“what is she up to then?” beth asked curiously as alessia joined back with the group of girls she was originally playing cards with.

“oh she and the young gunners have made us in barbie form!” alessia explained as the girls’ faces turned to confusion but also intrigued.

“that’s so- wait, what?”

[bunny-jpeg]

Hey! May I please have mille-feuille with coffee and a shot of vodka, with Carlos? Love the bakery concept!

the bakery menu

the bakery is still open! feel free to check out the main post and get your own order today! as for this, thank you so much for the order! i've been finding that a lot of people have a sweet sport for mr. sainz, haha! especially the rivals trope! i wanted to make this a little different from the other rivals concept i was suggested! thank you! thank you! thank you!

mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + coffee (rivals) + shot of vodka (rough sex)

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, rough sex, bratty!reader, punishments, brat taming, driver!reader & driver!carlos, mean!reader & carlos, drunk sex, alcohol & drinking, biting/hickies

everyone did rivals in formula one. it was the alluring storyline for the watcher. but to do it with the first permanent female driver in a long time was maybe not the most wise choice. you were the people's princess of formula one racing.

a voice for all women who wanted to make their mark in the sport. a beacon of light, a shining example of a great driver. to hate you to an extent, was a hate towards all women.

carlos wanted you to shut that little mouth of yours.

"oh yeah, carlos? you think that you could make a woman cum? be fucking for real." you howled in laughter. there weren't many drivers left in the bar.

he had his cheek pressed against his hand as he took another sip of his beer, "you don't think i could make a woman cum?"

you shrugged, "i don't think you could if you tried. like you'd get between her legs and look confused. i'm pretty sure you could name all the parts of your car easier than you could the anatomy of a woman."

your teammate, max cut in with his hand on your shoulder, "i think you need to let this go." you looked at him and he was painfully drunk as well.

you turned back to the ferrari driver.

carlos looked to his own teammate, charles, who at some point put his face on the wooden table and just fallen asleep. carlos said to you, "see, your point is so boring it put charles to sleep."

you didn't have a verbal comeback so you just flipped him off. and did carlos want to pin you down to the nearest surface and spank the hell out of your ass, get that bratty attitude out of you

you and carlos continued to bicker, your volume only getting louder with the deeper the conversation went and the more drunk you got.

max stared up at the ceiling for a moment and sighed. in his own drunken state he said, "why don't you two go back to your hotel, and see. and you can report back to us tomorrow."

"that sounds fair." carlos said.

you raised an eyebrow, "you're going to make me cum, carlos?" then tipped your head to the side.

carlos smiled, "well, of course. shouldn't be too hard. or are you worried you might be wrong?"

you reached across the table to carlos and he met you halfway to shake your hand, "may the best driver win then, sainz."

"you too." he said with a knowing smirk.

-

when you ended up in your hotel room, his lips were on yours. his large hands were palming your breasts through your redbull branded t-shirt. he pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours, "we're not stopping until you cum or the sun comes up."

you laughed and held his face to look at you, "well then, i hope you enjoy driving tomorrow with no sleep." then you went back to viciously making out with him.

his hands were on your hips soon after, trying to get your pants off of you. he groaned against your lips and muttered something to himself before you two broke away and you started to get undressed. even the amount of kissing felt too intimate for your liking.

"i hope you're okay with racing with a sore back." carlos replied as he got his shirt off. he caught you admiring him for a moment, which only inflated his ego before the rest of the clothes came off.

your brain was a buzz as you got all your clothes off and stood there naked in the hotel room. "how are we gonna do this?" you asked with your arms across your chest.

carlos took in the sight of you, "well, how does the princesa feel about being on her hands and knees. or is she too good for that?"

"you're a dick, carlos."

"i'm a dick!" he said as he got closer to you, "you're a little brat. like a snippy little dog that's always gotten her way. i think you made those comments so you could have sex with me."

"i could kill you."

"but you'll fuck me instead right, princesa?"

you two ended up on the bed, but carlos had to strength to pin you down on your knees with your front pushed into the pillows. he put your arms behind your back to keep you still.

"hitting me was not in the deal." he remarked, his voice close to your ear. his erection rubbed up against your slick pussy. you liked this, you liked when he bit back.

maybe that's what you were a little dog looking for something or someone to put you in your place.

"i'm not gonna cum like this." you said.

"i think you're wrong there. i think you are really liking this." he said, his tone was venomous that sent lust through you. you hated how good he sounded.

he sank his cock into you without much fanfare, “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

"shut up, sainz." you groaned as you felt him bound by his hand on your wrists. the other hand on your hip to give him leverage to fuck your sweet cunt.

the thrusts of his hips were hard and pushed you further into the pillows. your back arched and you whined into the pillows. you felt heat in your cheeks as he quickly fucked you.

it was rough, it was messy as the sounds of your bodies moved out of sync on the bed. it was a power struggle that carlos was winning. you hated that there was pleasure pooling in your body the more he thrusted into you.

he held you by the arms and bullied his cock into you. he was easily using you like a toy and all you had was your iron resolve that you wouldn't cum. but as you felt the dampness of sweat on your neck and the heat between your legs, it was getting harder.

"do you like that?" he asked as he continued to fuck you, "oh, is someone mad that they're liking this?" usually he tried to romance his sexual partners, but it was hard when he had so much liquor in his system. you two were filthy fucking, it was messy and hot. he could feel the sweat on his skin as he continued to thrust up into you.

"fuck you, carlos." you tilted your head back to look at him. the angle made you get a head rush.

he curled further over you and heavily made out with you. you whined at the stretch and it made you core hot. you could feel the tightness in your stomach as he fucking demolished you.

when the kiss broke you dropped your head back down onto the bed and let him keep you pinned down. he continued to move, eventually finding a place to leave bites on your neck.

you whined and said, "oh fuck, you possessive fuck!" you squirmed but couldn't get too far.

"i want them to know what i've done to you. i want charles and max to see the marks tomorrow morning and know exactly what we did."

"please, carlos. shit, shit." you panted. you couldn't really think straight anymore. in the attempt to deny your own orgasm, you were lost in the pleasure.

"i knew it." he said, "i knew you'd love this. fuck, i knew it." he panted as he felt his own orgasm come to a head. he almost bottomed out into you.

something inside of you broke as you felt the orgasm crash over you. there was no holding it back. you laid there slacked jaw and let carlos continue to fuck you until he pulled out and finished on your back.

he didn't want to give you the pleasure of him dumping his cum into you. maybe next time. if you were good. he slowed down to a stop and chuckled to himself, "you came."

"shut up."

"you finished. i knew you did."

"i could've been faking." you fought back.

"no, no." he said as he grabbed tissues off the nightstand to at least clean you up, "i know that was real, i won our little bet."

you huffed, not happy that you lost, "best two out of three." you remarked. it was almost childish, but you refused to lose to carlos sainz jr.

-

the following morning, you refused to look your teammate in the eye. even at the media pen. max noticed that the collar of your shirt was a little higher than how you normally kept it. but when you went to scratch the side of you neck, he get a glimpse of the damage that carlos had done.

max mentally cursed and tried to remember how much cash was in his wallet. he owed charles some money. at least you were a lot more nicer at the paddock that morning, so maybe he should be thanking carlos.

you looked over to max and raised your eyes at him. max gestured to your neck and you made a face before you mouth, "speak and you're dead." before you were all smiles to the camera.

this wouldn't be the last time max would find marks on your neck. and years later he'd have to act surprise when it came out you were dating carlos.

[ddarker-dreams]

BRILLIANT fucking idea: SR reader insinuating/offhandedly admitting… she has never been intimate. everyone hearing it like 🧍🏾‍♀️ how do you mean. idk j the flustered bashfulness of suddenly being like “wajt wait if im her bf ,,, im her first love”

SCREAMINGGGGG

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno

Giorno is a bit strange because he almost wishes he had a predecessor to analyze (and completely outshine). He isn’t disappointed per se, he’s not that weird, but having more study material never hurts. Positive relationships are foreign to him, since he’s been distant from others most of his life. He got along with people well enough — he just preferred his own company. Now that he’s had a taste of your company, he’s keen on making it a lifelong occurrence. Overhearing this admission has him wondering if traditional courting methods don’t do much for you. Or, more realistically, that they go over your pretty head. He's witnessed you interpreting the gang's flirtations as platonic. Consequently, he gives considerable thought to ensuring this isn't a fate that befalls him. Corny as it sounds, his new dream is to stand beside you as your husband. He's chasing this goal without abandon.

Bruno

Bruno feels immensely guilty for eavesdropping on a conversation involving something so personal, but he couldn't help himself. An immense weight feels like it's been lifted from his shoulders upon learning you haven't gotten romantically involved with anyone before. This relief is followed up with sharp self-condemnation — as your leader, he shouldn't get involved with your personal affairs. Maintaining any professional distance is difficult though, especially when you're so likable. People are naturally drawn to you and he's no different. That's why this revelation comes as a surprise, albeit a good one. He tells himself he'd be happy for you if you loved someone else... however, deep down, he knows the regret would eat him alive. He struggles to concentrate the rest of the day. His mind keeps wandering back to thoughts of you, specifically, finding solace in one another’s warmth. The most innocent thoughts make his heart flutter, the man is smitten.

Fugo

Fugo almost renounces his atheism — perhaps there is a God after all. Then he's reminded that you're completely out of his league, submersing him back into the Nietzsche headspace. His self-esteem isn't the best, so the way he looks at it is if no one else was good enough to catch your attention, what chance did he have? It's a miracle you even put him with him. He's blunt, stubborn, and easy to agitate, yet you're one of the few people alive who don't treat him like a ticking time bomb. When his initial pessimism dies down, he fantasizes about you getting flustered by things like a first kiss. It's a cute mental image. Would you fidget? Accidentally bump heads and apologize? Get sweaty palms? Before he knows it, he's invented an entire storyline in his head. It's mushy enough that he struggles to look you in the eye the next time he sees you.

Mista

Mista pretends he knew it all along, as if the Pistols hadn't kept him awake multiple nights, speculating over your relationship status. The little fellas held full-blown debates. Since he's a chill, go-with-the-flow type of guy, he wouldn't have turned green with envy had he learned you former lovers. If they brought you happiness, who is he to hold it against them? Regardless, he can't deny his budding excitement. Should you reciprocate his feelings, you'll experience all your firsts with him. Those initial milestones are the moments that stick with people throughout their life. It's your first kiss in particular that he'd like to have for himself. He intends to sweep you off your feet — literally. It's got to be like those old Hollywood flicks he grew up watching, or what's the point?

Narancia

Narancia has to stop himself from audibly cheering. The multiple abandonments he underwent in the past has him latching onto the few people remaining in his life. This includes you, naturally. You've brought him so much joy, the risk of losing that, losing you, it's a fear that eats away at him. He worries that if you had exes, you might compare him to them and determine he's subpar. Then he'd be cast aside like trash as he had been multiple times before. These insecurities nourish his possessive tendencies. Learning that he has no exes to fend off is a great relief because he would've defended you viciously. It isn't until later that he daydreams over the more innocent implications, like being your first (and only!) boyfriend. He gets so preoccupied by the thought that he walks into a few walls.

Abbacchio

He's actually surprised to learn about this. He considers using Moody Blues so he can hear the entire conversation, but decides against it, believing it to be an intrusion of your privacy. Abbacchio's of the opinion that to maximize your happiness, you should find love outside of Passione. He wants that for you, and yet... his heart physically aches whenever the possibility crosses his mind. What's the alternative, then? Would he make for a suitable partner? He finds the mere possibility laughable. Your brightness would be engulfed by the gaping maw that is his existence. He considers this an empirical truth, not some 'woe is me' sentiment. Ultimately, anytime your love life (or lack of one) is brought up, he distracts himself, so as not to fixate on his shortcomings.

[fireboltposts]

When Chris comes across fanfiction you've written about him

A/N : Hope you like this silly scenario haha. Picture credit goes to the owner. On that note, I wonder if Chan has a secret Tumblr account haha, I wouldn't put it past him.

• It was Chris' day off and he was lying on his bed under the blanket with his phone in his hand, scrolling through his private Instagram that only his close ones knew of and the one he used to stalk his fans.

• As usual, it was his favourite hobby to stalk Stays online, always curious to see what Stays were up to. He was scrolling through edit after edit, some where he was being the adorable Channie and "cute as a button", according to Stays' language, not his, and others where he was in full on wildin' in Christopher mode on stage.

• He chuckled at some of the comments made by Stays and felt shy at the same time. What he gathered was one group of people found him super adorable (he wondered how on earth could people find him adorable when there were the other members in the group) while other Stays were thirsty, each comment made him flustered and left him red in the face, it was like he was in his own episode of Thirst Tweets.

• He scrolled down next to find your fanfiction titled "Dangerous Alliances" pt 15. It was a fanfiction about him. He was intrigued to read it especially seeing the dark edit of himself in a black suit.

• He was fascinated by the way you portrayed him as a powerful and the most feared mafia boss, mysterious and alluring, surrounded by danger. He was used to being seen as the leader and "protective older brother" type, but the idea of him being a dangerous mafia boss was a wild twist to his personality.

• As he starts reading from part 1, he raises his eyebrows at your gritty and intense portrayal of him, surrounded by his seven trusted men, as in the rest of Stray Kids, each one had a different and important role. In the story he had a painful past and he also discovered that his parents were a part of the mafia in the past. He was back and had risen up the ranks.

• As he read on, though, he’d become more intrigued, maybe even amused, secretly flattered by your imaginative take on his character. He’d never imagined anyone thinking of him that way, the dark brooding mafia boss with a dangerous aura only soft for his seven friends and the reader who was not from the mafia but was just as daring and didn't even hesitate to take a bullet for him by his enemy and almost had seen death in the face (his world had almost collapsed that day but he was so so so relieved you were alive).

• Wow, he thought, the female lead here is strong and intense and fiercely loyal to his mafia character and takes no shit as he read the part where your character, the reader, had come back and threatened the enemy that whoever hurt Chris would have her to deal with her, and you had eliminated the threat that made the other mafia families treat you with respect and fear and see you as a force to be reckoned with and not just Chris' lover or just some woman.

• Chan would seriously be impressed by how you turned him into a powerful, mysterious figure, even if it’s such a different side of him. Part of him would want to laugh it off, but he’d find himself getting invested in the storyline, wondering what’s going to happen next. He was shocked when it was revealed that the reader actually was a lost mafia princess on a mission, and that she was seducing him just to eliminate him and all that bullet taking for him was all an act.

• Chris was reading with two eyebrows raised now, completely lost in the storyline. He was eager to know what happened next and kind of wanted a happy ending only to discover that part 16 was not yet posted. He saved the posts and followed your account,clearly wanting to read the next part as soon as it was released.

• After reading, Chan would decide to leave a supportive, playful comment, making sure to stay in character as a fan without giving himself away.

• @ cblurking97 : "OMG, I LOVE this version of Chan! 😳 The way you wrote him as this powerful, feared mafia boss is so intense—it’s like he’s a completely different person! I bet the real Chan would be so shocked if he saw this. 😂 And the twist 😳. Keep it up, author ! You’ve got me hooked!! 👏🔥 I do hope it's a happy ending though 😅".

• Chris would chuckle after posting, secretly entertained by the idea of encouraging you in disguise. He’d feel a bit mischievous, knowing you’d never suspect the actual person you were writing about was hyping you up in the comments.

• Chan would be thoroughly amused by his anonymous support. Part of him would feel proud that someone could see his leadership qualities in such an intense light, even if the setting was a bit extreme.

• His thoughts after commenting would be something like "well, that’s one way to think of me, but wow, this person is really talented… I wonder how the story will end."

• He’d quietly enjoy the way you’d brought such a unique version of him to life and rooting for you as a "fellow fan" from afar, looking forward to the plot development.

A/N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. The rest of my masterlist is here.

[butchvamp]

i do think that for me personally. there is no version of taash's storyline that i can get down with except one where they reconnect with their qunari side. my main problem with their arc is that it perpetuates this idea that someone has to "choose" one culture, that they have to turn their back on parts of their identity in order to be the right kind of trans (the white western kind) and all of it just makes me so viscerally uncomfortable. and to be clear this is not me like... trying to make anyone feel bad, there are parts of taash's story that i personally connect with as well, like there is nothing wrong with the way taash does gender in general and there's nothing wrong with it resonating with people. it's when we put it all together in context within the game that it becomes a problem for me.

we know the qun does not have the same ideas around gender as the rest of thedas, we know that their identity, including gender, is connected to their duty. and so it doesn't make sense that taash's mother cares about them wearing dresses. why would she care about that. i'd ask if we've ever even seen any qunari in dresses but i'm pretty sure we've only seen three qunari women total and two of them are in veilguard and are scholars wearing what i personally consider a robe. the third is in trespasser and is ben-hassrath, and is definitely not wearing a dress. if anything, their mother should be concerned about the fact that they fight, since the whole point of leaving for rivain was to avoid taash being designated as a soldier. and to be fair, we get this a Little bit with the fire-breathing. but everything else about shathann's disapproval doesn't make sense in-universe.

and we also already know about the aqun athlok, which shathann even tries to bring up but the game shouts her down because....? i get that shathann is meant to be overbearing and kinda shitty, but this is not the way to do it. all this does is imply that aqun athlok is "wrong" and not as progressive as this other identity that rook has to teach taash about (and that also isnt even specific to rivain, or related to them connecting to their rivaini culture. it's the shadow dragons that teach them all of this along with rook. in general transness and the nonbinary identity are not integrated into the world in any meaningful way which makes it feel even worse). there are various cultures that have their own specific gender identities that do not adhere to the gender binary, and taash should have been given the chance to connect to their own culture in this way. and even if they really wanted to make it so taash just didn’t feel right with aqun athlok, that identity still should have been properly discussed as an option and handled with respect, rather than so carelessly thrown aside as “wrong” (though again not a depiction i would personally like but it would still be better than what we got).

and just. i really disagree with the idea that gender identity under the qun is More Rigid than elsewhere. it’s different, as we know from comments from iron bull and sten-- and we could argue in circles about inconsistencies with the things they say, obviously there have been retcons previously in an attempt to better develop the qunari beyond what we see in origins and da2, but i think this kind of development is a good thing, and is exactly why the regression with taash irritates me so much-- but when we look back at characters like warden tabris, dorian and his father and tevinter's obsession with bloodlines, the entire experience of playing f!hawke in da2 (and also da2 literally has a whole subplot about women being murdered for like 3 years and no one cares. these games just have a misogyny problem lol) and even tarquin in veilguard commenting about how his father forced him into being a soldier because he's a man(!!)-- there is a lot of rigidity, expectations, and violence around gender throughout thedas. but for some reason these rigid gender ideals and a lot of this gendered violence is held up as the status quo and not challenged at all by the writers in the way the qun repeatedly is. the exception being dorian (though you're still incentivized to forgive his father), but a lot of the characters in tevinter-- magisters, templars, the literal black divine-- are still allowed complexities and to be the good guys working with the shadow dragons, a grace not given to any qunari character besides iron bull (who ultimately still has to leave the qun or die later). i’m not trying argue that the qun is perfect and can never be criticized-- i like the flawed characters and societies within dragon age. but the qunari also deserve to be given the same depth, complexities, and engagement as everyone else, too. and it’s worth pointing out that it’s always the qun that’s depicted as backwards for the same harmful “rigidity” every other culture in the game reinforces.

and ultimately with the way the game inserts this very modern, anachronistic, and condescending language in a poor attempt to be as "correct" as possible to "teach" the player, while simultaneously writing such a careless, racist arc about their culture kinda just , makes me feel like they were actually trying to imply that one identity is more correct and progressive than the other. or, if nothing else, it's a bias that got amplified due to their unwillingness or inability to engage with taash's character beyond using them as a mouthpiece for corporate "representation."

there absolutely are people out there that are like taash, who don't necessarily have or want a connection with certain parts of their culture, and maybe they do identify closer with one aspect of it over another. this is all fine! this happens in real life, everyone has different relationships with their identity and heritage, there is no universal experience, and people are allowed to write about their own. but the thing is. this is dragon age. and taash was written by weekes. and both dragon age as a whole and weekes specifically has a repeated pattern of racist writing when it comes to depicting the qunari. and taash's quest along with the way the antaam are portrayed-- faceless, voiceless, basically naked bodies for you to kill-- makes this a series of poor choices that i don't feel generous enough to excuse.

and it sucks. so bad. that this happened. i want to like taash so bad. but.... man.

anyways if you read this far you should read this article, which is far more eloquent than anything i could write and really dives into the whole "civilized versus savage" binary that we see in a lot of fantasy RPGs and is really epitomized in taash's quest-- in dragon age, it's always the qunari and dalish elves versus a (usually white and/or human) andrastian: