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chasingpj · 3 years ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤

pairing: percy jackson x child of aphrodite! gn reader

requested?: yup!

warnings: mentions of underage drinking, one curse word, and mentions of sexual tension

category: fluff, shy boy x obviously interested girl trope

a/n: don't mind me I'm just projecting and I got carried away

you’re not sure what gravitated you to percy more

the crystal green eyes, the freckles over his nose, the disheveled dark curls, or his clumsiness

the first time you laid eyes on him, he was walking back to his cabin after sword-fighting practice

his tan skin gleamed in the sunlight as a hand came up to swipe away the damp hair sticking on his forehead

for an action so mundane, it made your stomach flutter like crazy

and then the beauty of the moment was ruined right when he trips over the steps of his cabin

you heard stories of the kid killing the minotaur, blowing up a volcano, and rumors of being the suspected child of a huge prophecy

yet, he was not immune from tripping over his feet

and you’re sure the dorky charm of that moment made you think, he’s mine

for the next few days, you were determined to approach him

but you didn’t just want to come up to him and introduce yourself; that would be too plain and forgettable

you ended up finding your opportunity during a capture the flag game

silena gave you instructions to distract percy, and you headed over strong, ready to make your first impression while also taking him down for your team

sure, he had water powers and done a bunch of cool things, but your father made sure you were well trained in sword fighting and martial arts even before you knew about the camp

you planned to take him by surprise, and luckily it worked

with ruthless attacks, it didn’t take long for you to sweep him off his feet and knock his sword out of his hand

by pressing the flat of your sword under his chin, you forced him to look up at you, and you peered into those clear green eyes

gods, he’s cute, you thought

“hey,” you said

percy was stunned, not sure if it was because you effortlessly took him down or if it was because you were one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen

“... hi,” he sputtered, gawking for a moment as you offered your hand

you swore you felt sparks when his fingers brush across your palm... even though the contact was a little sweaty

in the distance, you heard the satyrs blow the horn and the roars of celebration from your team

“i should go back to the others. catch you later, ocean eyes,” you flirted

percy’s shoulders tensed up when you blew him a kiss; awkwardly frozen in his place as you waited

“well, are you going to catch it? you can’t just let my kiss fly away.”

percy shifted on his feet, not sure if you were serious or not, but when you held your ground with arms folded over your chest, it was clear that’s what you were waiting for

and so with a flushed face, percy awkwardly grabbed the air in the front of him, and you couldn’t help but giggle

“good, i wouldn’t want it flying to a stranger,” you commented playfully. “you know, i don’t really like this whole outdoor camp life thing, but seeing your pretty face around here makes it a lot better”

“uh… oh, thanks?” he stammered, not having the words to respond

you winked at him before walking off, more than satisfied with your first impression

after that, you were contemplating your next move

children of aphrodite can see all the possibilities in a potential relationship

you were able to see you and percy eating ice cream in central park, holding hands at camp, a shy kiss on your first date

you wanted all of it, and you going to make sure you get it

of course, silena and your siblings were your wing women

if percy was in the strawberry fields, you were picking strawberries beside him

in the fields, you got to know him and his sarcastic humor, which made your crush flourish

you even took sword fighting classes at the same time as him and made sure he was your partner most of the time

whenever you had a chance, you’d affectionately fix his hair or his armor just to hear his shy thank you’s

he’s never had a girl show this much interest in him, so you definitely made him a little nervous, but despite that, he opened up to you pretty quick

sometimes he’d help you out in the stables, and you noticed how he’d fumble with the harnesses or knock things over when you would flirt with him

you loved his reactions so much that you always took it up a notch just to see how he’d react

you suppose the pegasi didn’t make percy’s shyness any better

there were times where he’d shush them, or the tips of his ears would grow even more flushed at a neigh or huff from one of the pegasuses

as the summer came to an end, you gave percy your email and made sure you stayed in touch

you didn’t live very far from one another, but you didn’t dare ask to hangout

you wanted to be asked first!

and you were disappointed when the invitation never came despite the two of you being consistent with sending emails

the year flew by fast, though, and you were excited to return to camp for an array of reasons; percy being one of those reasons, of course

when you saw him for the first time that summer, you were in awe at how different he looked after a year

he was taller, broader, and just more handsome overall

your stomach went into a frenzy when he greeted you with a boyish smile while his hand rubbed the back of his neck nervously because he didn’t fail to notice how, somehow, you were even prettier than he remembered

unfortunately, having the prepare for the war meant you guys were too busy to hang out as often as you did the previous summer

but when you did have time to see each other, it was still fun

there was an unspoken rule between you and percy that any talk about the war wasn’t allowed

it allowed you guys to just bask in the nights where you would watch the sunset while joking around and sharing funny stories

those nights were calm and still; they brought a sense of normalcy amongst the chaos and growing tensions

because of this, percy had sought out your company whenever he could get it

being with you made him feel like time slowed down

inevitably, the battle of manhattan occurred and passed, causing the summer to end with the grief of losing your siblings

while campers arranged the ceremonies to honor their siblings, percy hopped around to help

losing silena as a counselor meant it was time to pick a new one, and to your surprise, your siblings nominated you

you were silena’s right-hand person, the oldest in the group after her, and the strongest fighter, so your siblings felt it was fair that you took the role

but it didn’t feel right to you; the pressure of being a newly elected councilor while still grieving silena weighed hard on your shoulders

after the nomination, you needed time to get away and sit with your thoughts, and you were only there for a moment alone until percy had found you

his eyes studied your somber expression, and he was quick to ask what was wrong

as you poured out all your worries, percy was quiet and attentive

you cuddled up to his side for comfort, and even in your sorrow, you didn’t fail to notice the way he tensed up

finally, when you let everything out, he chimed in to soothe your worries

your expression was a little lovestruck as he said everything you needed to hear, and well, his strong arm around your shoulders definitely helped too

you were so elated that you couldn't help but press a kiss on his cheek to thank him

his flushed face was enough to lift your spirits for good that day

by the time the summer officially came to an end, you could feel that percy’s feelings for you were becoming stronger

the romantic possibilities you envisioned became more apparent, but percy hadn’t asked you out yet

and like, you guessed you could have asked him out, but that wasn't fair in your book

you were already making the first moves; it was his turn to do something about it

then you were sure your mother pitied you because finally, after a few more months of emailing, percy asked if you to go ice skating with him, and of course, you agreed

but then, you concluded that it was more like a cruel joke from your mom because percy never showed up

you waited hours for him before you trudged home in defeat

heartbroken wasn’t even enough to describe how you were feeling

being stood up with no follow up from him made you conclude that he just wasn’t interested and you just needed to move on

it wasn’t until you went to CHB for christmas break did you find out percy was missing

you were crazy worried about him and helped as much as you could to try and find him

when it was confirmed that he was still alive, you were more than relieved

from that day on, you were itching to see him again, and finally, after the giant war, you were able to speak to him

you only said a hello before you got sucked into a game of truth or dare with your friends

the game was self-explanatory; spin the bottle and the person who’s chosen is submissive to the person who spun it

you made up some lousy dares for the first few people until you spun the bottle in percy’s direction

“truth or dare?” your voice was challenging, and a little flirty

percy shifts in his place, “truth.”

“do you want to kiss me?”

“dare.”

“kiss me.”

the instigating coos of your friends made you smile, which contrasted percy’s stunned expression

“never have i ever-”

“that’s not even the game, percy!”

your friends laughed at your interaction, but you were honestly a little annoyed

he liked you; you could feel it, so what was he even waiting for?

“it’s fine. you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to,” you say with a playful smile in an attempt to hide your disappointment

“shit, i’d kiss you,” leo joked, and you suddenly perked up at the request

a new idea came to your mind

“so kiss me,” you snapped your gaze to leo, a smirk on your face

leo gasped so hard; he choked on his own saliva

while he coughed erratically, showcasing all his shock on his face, you announced, “new rule! you can only give up a dare if someone else in the group offers to take it for you.”

your gaze fixed on leo, “so, are you going to kiss me or what?”

“uh, only if you want to,” he stammered, and you smiled, moving to lean over in his direction

suddenly, percy cut in, “i didn’t give up the dare.”

your attention shifted to him, and you didn’t fail to pick up the jealousy radiating off of him

your stomach flipped with anticipation at the success of your idea

if percy needed a push, you were going to push him

“you’ve given leo false hope then,” you joked, and playfully leo sighed.

“man, so close,” he mumbled.

you bit your lip as you leaned in percy’s direction

you felt his attraction to you; his eyes told you everything you needed to know and more

and before you knew it, your lips were against his

the kiss was short, but for a moment, the world around you was drowned out; you barely heard the coos and cheers of your friends around you

with a satisfied smirk, you pulled away, settling back in your spot as percy’s eyes averted elsewhere, too shy to look at you

you and your friends played the game until you grew bored and found something else to do

because the festivities kept pulling you in one direction to another, the only interaction you had with percy was the occasional longing glance and nothing else

as you escorted a few of your sisters who drank a little too much back to your cabin, you were sure you’d have to wait another day to talk to him

lost in your dismay, you automatically denied piper’s offer to finish the task

it wasn’t until she scoffed did you pull out of your thoughts

“are you kidding? go. i’ll get them back. you find percy.”

“oh yeah. you guys need to do something about that sexual tension. are you gonna date him or what?” another one of your sisters slurred

before you could even protest, you were shooed away by not only piper but by the rest of your siblings too

you stayed in your spot, making sure they had at least made it to the steps of the cabin before you pranced up to percy’s cabin

you figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask if he wanted to go on a walk with you

your knock is followed by a few moments of shuffling before he opened the door

and, whew, you were pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a shirtless percy

“hey." you leaned on the door frame, your eyes trailing down to admire his toned torso

“eyes up here," percy playfully demanded

you were almost hesitant to avert your eyes, but you obliged.

"i wanted to ask if you wanted to take a walk. you know, i just haven’t been sleeping well."

percy leaned against the door frame, amused at the dramatic pout on your face.

“sure, let me put on a shirt firs-”

“oh, you don’t have to. i don’t mind,” you cut him off, and his head tilts back just a little as he laughs

“i’m putting on a shirt,” he declares playfully, and you whine in fake disappointment

on your walk, he told you all the crazy things that happened while he was missing, and even though his stories were a lot more interesting than what you had to say, he was eager to hear about what you've been up to

your conversation persisted as you walked around the camp and as you arrived at the docks, another idea came to mind

suddenly, you cut yourself off mid-sentence, your gaze fixed on the water

“perce, you know, i can’t swim,” you mention, stepping on the wooden dock

“really?”

“really.”

it was quiet for a moment, and percy's expression was laced with confusion as you kicked off your shoes

you didn’t even care that you were wearing designer clothes, running straight off the dock and into the deep lake water

you heard percy yell your name right as your body completely submerges in the water

and it wasn't even more than 3 seconds before percy jumped in, one arm immediately wrapping around your waist to swim up to the surface with you

his baffled expression sent you into a fit of laughter

“what? why did you do that?!”

“cause i knew you’d come and get me.”

percy’s lips curved up into a smile, and you took the time to admire his features in the moonlight

you swore you saw his eyes flicker to your lips for a second, and the action made you hyper-aware of how close your noses were

"kiss me!" you thought in your head as you circled your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer

you could feel his admiration, the accelerated thump of his heart, the fluttering in his stomach that mimicked yours

the kiss you shared earlier was far too short for your liking, and you were already looking forward to the next opportunity to kiss him again

“i haven’t forgotten that i owe you a date.”

you smiled at his words, half-distracted at the proximity of his lips

“so it was a date all along?” you asked, and percy nods, amused

“you know, i was thinking now that there isn’t another big prophecy and the chances of me disappearing again aren’t likely, that, maybe, you and i could-”

“yes! gods, yes.” you cut him off, and percy laughs at your eagerness

you waited too long for the question that you couldn’t even let him finish asking

he isn’t able to say anything else as you pull him into a passionate kiss

it was as if the years of anticipation were being poured into the movement of your mouths

the kiss was long, growing in eagerness until the harpies had ruined your fun and the two of you had to run back to your cabins

a part of you had wished that all of this would have happened sooner

you had plenty of nights where you were stared at the ceiling with conflicted thoughts, wondering if you guys just weren't meant to be, if you somehow made up his attraction to you in your head, or if you should ask him out first and save yourself the potential regret

but when you returned to your cabin full of enthusiastic siblings asking why you were soaking wet and why your lipstick was smudged, you realized you wouldn’t have changed a single thing

masterlists taglist:@xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @Slytherclaw-kitten @-thatgirloverthere- @passionswift @nanskidoodle @s0urcru5h @ilikefluffygingercats @all-hailreyna @autmngirlworld @sunkissedskin1328 @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @hajigayy @aleksanderwh0r3 @drayshadow @tonyedwardstarkk @londoncherry @ashookykooky @lotusnegra666 @loverstyless @yelenabel0vaswife @t0xicmuse @ohmydamgods @jordannfields @tomriddles-wh0re @amy-writes-blog @muted-mayham @shawkneecaps @dreamerball @earthtokace @thehighladyofday @theverydramaticcabbage @lala-llama123 @tootsdoll @slytherindaughterofposeidon0 @black-rose-29 @somekidnamedkai @possiblylostchasecousin @silver-gemini @hamdehlesmis @shadowsndaisies @cami05sworld @does-anyone-hear-me @scarlets-widow @sol-the-salmon @hipsdofangirl @tatofan @missusstark @atryx0-tal @iamparou

if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on !

#percy jackson x you #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson headcanon #my writing

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writingwithcolor · 3 years ago

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What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines.

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.”

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.”

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time.

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse, WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.

#PSAs #asker concerns #diversity #motivations in writing #writing with diversity #blog housekeeping #internet hygeine #asks #WWC

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genshin-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Your blog is everything I wanted and more. Im a lurker for your writings ahaha if you can guess who i am 👀

How about the guys reacting to s/o's death. Can be a group writing but if its too much, just Diluc, Childe, Razor and Kaeya would be nice. I think they would have interesting reactions >:3

First of all, Anon. I LOVE YOU. I wanted to write this out but thought it might be a bit too much but then you went and requested it!! I guess I have no choice but to write this out! >:) (That’s also why I did all the characters) second. Guess who you are o: may I get a hint? I have 2 people in my mind tho o: Warnings: Death, mentions of blood, angst. Pure angst.

Sidenote: The woman in this is my OC named Toxin! Whenever I need a really big, bad villain, she’s my go-to! That’s all!

Includes: Aether, Kaeya, Venti, Diluc, Razor, Xiao, Xingqiu, and Childe!

Scaramouche & Zhongli Here | Part 2 Here

You Die!

You ran as fast as your feet would carry you, desperate for an escape. A scream erupted from your lips as the ground shook beneath you, causing you to stumble and fall over. You had received an emergency request to help fight… someone. The request wasn’t very detailed but someone needed help and you couldn’t turn your back on them. So, you went ahead and tried to help.

You should’ve been careful. You should’ve brought help. But you didn’t and you were paying for your stupidity. The person that you were fighting was strong. She was tall, pale, and had long black hair. Her unearthly glowing green eyes were terrifying. She was fast and all of your attacks were unable to touch her.

As you ran, only one thought crossed your mind. The smiling image of your boyfriend. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you tried to run. How you wished you could be in his arms, feeling safe and sound.

As you ran out of the forest and down the field, the woman appeared in front of you, catching you in her arms and stabbing you with a poison dagger. You shrieked as your hands curled around her clothes. The sharp pain turned into a burning sensation and you looked up at her. Her face was inches away and she smirked, her eyes glowing bright by the second.

“Finally. But you’re not the only one I wanted to break.” What? What did she mean? Her head turned to the left and you followed her gaze and the second you saw what she was looking at, your heart shattered.

The woman pulled the dagger out and it seemed to vanish as she smirked at your boyfriend. The tears slid down your cheeks as you weakly reached out to him for help.

“(F/N)!” His heart stopped as he watched the woman disappear and you fall to the floor. He sprinted to you, picking you up in his arms as blood poured out of the wound. “H-hey! Hey, keep your eyes open! J-Just stay awake!” He held your head against his chest, trying to calm himself, but how could he? You were bleeding out in front of him.

He looked down and ran his fingers along your cheek as your skin started to turn purple. The poison had taken its effect and it was moving fast. You were leaving, you would leave him just like Lumine left him. He was gonna be alone all over again.

“A-Aether… I-I l-love you.”

“I love you too! You’ll be fine, everything’s g-gonna be ok.” Who was he kidding? You weren’t going to make it. But he couldn’t admit it. Aether still had yet to find Lumine and he’d never gotten over losing her. You, you were his light. You were his guiding start. You were his moon, his everything.

To think that he could lose you? No, no! He didn’t want it. He didn’t want a world without you. A world without you was pure torture. So why? Why was the universe so hellbent on taking things away from him? Why did it demand everything precious to him?!

Why you?

A pained cry left his lips as your hand fell to your side and that light disappeared from your eyes. “N-no. No, no, no, no! W-wake up! Please wake up! Do-don’t leave me! Don’t you leave me too! Not like this! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!” He held your lifeless body against him, his head pressed against your chest. He couldn’t hear it… he couldn’t hear your heartbeat.

“No… NO!” He ran as fast as his feet could carry him and caught you before you hit the ground. The woman had disappeared but he didn’t care. You were… you were dying! How could he stop it? He wanted to stop the bleeding, he wanted to stop the way your color was changing, he wanted to stop time!

“K-Kaeya… h-how-”

“I was told to come here. A messenger came to me and said you called me and told me to come here.” He explained, taking your cold hand into his, pressing a kiss against it.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“No. Don’t apologize and don’t close your eyes. Please, just stay up a little longer.” He wanted to pick you up and run to the nearest doctor, but he knew… it wasn’t worth it. He wouldn’t make it. He’d never felt so worthless and weak. He swore to protect you and keep you safe and now that you needed him… he was useless.

“T-tired…” Slowly, your eyes closed and your hand fell limp in his. Kaeya’s eyes widened as the tears slid down his cheek.

“(f-f/n)? B-baby! No, wait! Don’t do this! Pl-please no!” He took your hand and pressed it against his cheek, but the second he loosened his grip, it fell. Kaeya shook his head, tears flooding down his cheek as a scream erupted from his mouth. “(F/N)!!!”

Slow. He was too slow. Why couldn’t he be fast enough?! That woman, he knew her. He knew her and he vowed to hunt her down and tear her to shreds. But right now…

Venti picked you up with trembling hands, letting his now bloodied hands touch your cheek. He couldn’t even talk, his voice quivered as he looked down into your eyes. No. This wasn’t happening. You weren’t going to leave him like this.

“H-hey, love. E-everything’s going to be just fine. You’re fine.” He tried to keep his smile up but it was so damn hard when he knew the truth. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t even lie to himself. You were slipping away and all he could do was watch. He knew he was the weakest of all archons but why? Why couldn’t he be a little bit stronger to save you.

“I-I wa-wanna sl-sleep-”

“NO!” He frowned and pressed a kiss to your lips. “No, don’t sleep. Not yet. Just stay awake a little longer and then we can both sleep together tonight.” You weakly nodded, but you couldn’t stay awake any longer. You felt like you were moving, but your body was slowly going numb, until everything disappeared. “(f/n)? (f-f/n)? H-hey! Hey this isn’t a joke! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, PLEASE, PLEASE WAKE UP!”

The second he saw the woman step away from you, a fiery phoenix flew towards her, but she’d disappeared before it could hit her. Diluc ran to you as he watched your body fall to the ground.

He fell to his knees and quickly picked you up, shaking you a little. There was something that snapped inside. He’d always kept his composure, but after seeing what had happened, his emotions burst out of him. He wasn’t in control of anything. He couldn’t control his thoughts, emotions… or your death.

“It’ll be fine! Everything’s fine!” He said, pressing his hand to the wound. You winced at the pain as your skin started to turn purple and blood spilled out of your mouth.

“I-I’m so-sorry.” He shook his head, taking your face in his hands.

“No. I’m sorry. I sh-should’ve gotten here faster.” He was still trying to convince himself you were going to be fine, but deep down, he knew the truth. He knew the ugly truth that was coming up.

“D-Diluc… y-you’re pretty.” His eyes clenched shut at your words as a tear slid down his cheek.

“Don’t leave. Th-there are so many things I-I want to do with you. Pl-please don’t leave me. Wh-what d-do I do?” You smiled weakly at him.

“Y-you b-be the Darknight H-hero…” He scoffed and looked down at you.

“Without you… I’m nothing.” You wanted to say more, you wanted to deny his words, but you were so tired. Slowly, the world faded away and you could no longer hear his cries. “No! NO! NO!! DON’T DO THIS TO ME! STOP! COME BACK! PLEASE BRING MY (F/N) BACK!”

The wolf within had appeared but he wasn’t able to catch up before the woman disappeared. He ran to you and picked you up, seeing the blood gushing out of the wound.

“N-no! (f/n)!” Tears flooded his eyes as he watched your color turn purple. That woman, she reeked of poison so she must’ve poisoned you.

“Shhh…” You muttered, holding your hand to his cheek. “D-don’t c-cry.” He didn’t know what to do. He felt so lost and helpless, but the worst part… he knew what was coming. He shook his head vehemently and tried to pick you up, but you let out a cry of pain, making him lower you back down.

“I c-can save you!”

“I-it’s ok… it’s ok, Razor. I… I’ll be ok.” He hated those words. He hated everything you were saying so much. Razor adored you, he missed you every second he couldn't be with you and normally, he’d never hate your words. But today… right now, he hated how right you were. He shook his head as the tears slid down his cheeks as he felt you slip away.

“Do-don’t do this t-to me. Not you too… they left me. Why do you want to leave me too?” You weakly tugged him down and made him kiss you, but half way through the kiss, he felt your head fall back and he knew. You were gone.

He knew that woman that had done this to you. He knew her and he was going to make sure she paid. But right now… right now you were more important. Xiao took you in his arms as tears started to fill his eyes. He’d never felt like this before and he hated feeling like this.

You made him feel so powerful, so invincible, so untouchable. But right now, he felt so vulnerable and broken. If he had been faster, if he had just gotten here faster he could’ve saved you. He could’ve been hugging you, seeing your skin bright with life, seeing your glimmering eyes, seeing that dazzling smile. But no, he was a failure.

A sob escaped his lips as he watched you starting to slip away. He pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“D-don’t do this. Pl-please don’t leave me. Y-you pro-promised you w-wouldn’t do this to me!” He looked down at you but you still had that angelic smile on your face. Why? Why would you do this?! You touched his cheek and spoke; your voice was a quiet whisper, but he heard it.

“I-I love y-you, Xiao…” He shook his head and glared at the sky before shutting his eyes. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to see this happening to you.

“I love you too. S-so much.” He felt your body go limp and another sob escaped his lips. “Y-you pr-promised you’d c-come back to me.” He raised your face closer to him and pressed a kiss against your lips. “P-please come back to me. I-I can’t live without you… I do-don’t want to.”

He sprinted down the hill towards where you lay, gathering you in his arms when he was at the bottom. He didn’t know what to do, there was so much blood, so much poison, and no hope. He fell beside you and pressed his hands onto the wound as blood gushed out.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, it’s ok, it’s ok, everything’s just fine!” You winced in pain in your torso, but it didn’t last very long. It only took a minute before you lost feeling in your legs and arms.

“Xingqiu… i-it hurts.”

“I know, I know and I’m so sorry! If I was faster, I could’ve helped you. It’ll be ok, I promise, my love. I won’t stop until you’re taken care of.” Why didn’t he believe his own words? Maybe it was the fading light in your eyes, maybe it was the color draining from your face, maybe it was the sheer amount of blood that poured from the wound… but Xingqiu didn’t have a single ounce of hope. Why? Why was the world doing this to him? Why was it punishing you like this? Did he do something? Did he commit a sin that was so unforgivable that the universe or the gods would punish someone as sweet and amazing as you?

He wanted to cry, but he bit his lip to hold the tears back. His eyes were glossy and his vision was blurry, but he refused to cry. He wasn’t going to show you the fleeting hope in him. He wasn’t going to show you that he was a liar.

“Xingqiu… w-will y-you g-give me one l-last kiss?” His head snapped to you and he shook his head.

“It won’t be our last kiss! We’ll have more chances. We’ll have so many more chances.” He did kiss you however. It was short and sweet, as he returned to applying pressure onto the wound. His eyes flickered to you for a second before his entire body tensed. You were staring at the sky… with dull, lifeless eyes. “(f-f/n)? H-hey… hey wake up.” He gently shook your shoulders. “Hey, stop. Th-this isn’t funny! I know you like playing tricks on me but this isn’t funny! St-stop!!” Finally, he broke. He laid his head on your chest as his tears started to flow.

“NO!” Oh, he knew that woman well. He’d worked with her once. She was, indeed, powerful. She was a killing machine and there was a time where he was impressed by her. But right now he felt nothing but pure hatred for her. But that had to wait, because you… you were dying.

Childe pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest and kissing your head. He was trembling and his emotions were a mess. Tears trailed down his cheeks as he looked down at you. The wound oozed with red and purple, so he knew you’d been poisoned.

“H-hey, darling. You ok? Everything’s just gonna be ok, you hear me?” You gave him a weak nod as you looked down at the wound. However, he took your face and made you look up at him. “No, no. Just look at me. Nothing but me.”

“I-I won’t… I’m tired.”

“HEY! Don’t you dare close those beautiful eyes on me! Everything’s going to be fine! Everything… everything is fine. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare even think about leaving me. Don’t you… don’t do it. Please, god I’m begging you (f/n)! Don’t leave me all alone in this world!”

“I-I ca-can’t stay…”

“Yes, y-yes you can! You can’t leave me, please d-don’t.. I-I don’t know what to do! What am I supposed to do?! Just go on, pretending everything’s ok?! JUST PRETEND LIKE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE DIDN’T LEAVE ME?!”

“Shh… d-don’t get so angry.”

“I-” He sighed, taking in a shaky breath, “I love you so much i-it’s hard to breathe without you. Do-don’t take away m-my reason for li-living.” You didn’t answer. You only weakly smiled before your eyes closed and your head fell back. Childe’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “N-no. No- HEY! No, no, no! Please no!” He held you against his chest as he let out a scream. What else could he do besides cry.

Your boyfriend stood up, holding you tightly in his arms. There was only one thought in his mind as he glared in the direction the woman had gone.

There was nothing left for him. So he wouldn’t stop; he would relentlessly hunt that woman down and tear her apart completely. That way, she could feel an ounce of his pain.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin kaeya #genshin diluc #genshin venti #genshin aether #genshin razor #genshin xingqiu #genshin xiao #genshin xingqiu x reader #genshin childe #xingqiu x reader #diluc x reader #aether x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact imagines

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creepypastalover97 · 2 years ago

Text

Time for another creepypasta au headcannon.

Today’s headcannon is x-virus.

And to let you know I will be writing him as a proxy

Enjoy

. On top of missions and work he has. How he does it? No one knows . He’s serious when it comes to his job as a proxy, not as much as Masky or hoodie. But he would come in third place in that department.

. He’s very hesitant to work with a team. even more so resistant as it seemed that the others had an already established bond so he felt like an outsider. kinda shiver aside his feelings about it, giving off his normal cold exterior. takes a long time but he eventually starts to trust and rely on them

. Are we allowed to talk about the fact that he found his brother and they immediately knew who each other was or is that just not to be spoken of?? Is that an off limit conversation?? They have brother’s intuition ig. I think Slender was like

“yo your brother is gonna be visiting the woods today look out”- slenderman to toby

and this motherfucker went SPRINTING in.

. his style of killing isn’t really about blood list or torture it’s get in, get the job done, and leave. but like all scientists sometimes he has a new toy he wants to try out. saves his last kill to try out his viruses as there is sometimes a short amount of time in which someone injected can escape. sometimes it’s not about trying something new; he just wants to be a dramatic bitch about things.

. Sometimes he kills with normal objects too , but he doesn’t like to. He likes to see how the body reacts to certain chemicals. He once accidentally tortured one of his victims by making them drink bleach. He just wanted to see if anything would happen. Turns out it’s not good for the human body. :) He also made someone eat nothing but soap and deodorant for 3 months.

. He would totally become one of those resident evil mad scientist type. He would create mutants and alien-like beings to destroy the world. He’s always been the type to try to find new solutions to problems, so he would originally start the virus by just trying to be good. Lmao how that blew up so bad is beyond his concern.

. likes doing the most random-ass experiments on people, even if he knows the outcome already

. Cody will experiment on himself with new viruses he’s made. He found that just watching people flop around for a few can get boring, so he decided to try a few of his viruses on himself which have resulted in a number of things:

- discoloring of the lips

- skin becoming paler than average ( almost white with a green undertone)

- nails have grown to become almost claw-like

- nails are permanently black

- his sclera ( the white part of your eyes) has become black while his irises now glow.

- animal-like habits; such as crawling on all fours, catching prey and eating it ( rabbits, boar, squirrels, etc.)

- vascular and discoloring of the veins (green)

. he's very good at reading people

. adhd central

. Very sarcastic, like he is the epitome of sarcasm. Can not get a proper response out of hair, at all

. has a lot of scars and scratches because he’s very clumsy

. band/theatre kid energy

. likes watching the bill n ted movies for some reason, along with that, he likes unrealistic movies a lot

. plays fortnite (he just likes the characters)

. get's rlly excited about things quickly

. Cody is not allowed on missions alone with Masky anymore after he almost got masky killed on accident. I think it was an accident?? He basically played with a kids science kit as Masky got his ass beat by some middle aged ex marine

.has a slight lisp, hates when people talk about it

. has heterochromia :)

. He and Toby commit arson together

. He’s punched Jeff a few times, can’t stand ass-holes or bullies

. While his brother Toby is great with Sally, Cody’s way more awkward with her until one day she comes to him crying because Mr D’s ripped, He sews him up for her (He can stitch, Jane taught him)

. X-virus is one of the only proxies who have not developed a ability for some unknown reason. Some theorize it’s because of all the viruses he experimented with on himself that it stunted him from developing one.

. He loves cats, they’re so affectionate!

. Halloween is his favourite holiday. Circe, Toby, and him trick or treat every time and egg houses

. Hangs out with EJ, they both talk about science and new ways to test the human body

. Very Introverted

. He likes to daydream about a dating someone alot, He wants someone to love him in his life

. Tbh he likes to flirt with random people out and about just by telling them weird body facts. He once hit on a girl saying that blood is a great egg substitute. He likes to keep people on their toes.

. This man has a jawline that could cut paper. Attractive looking motherfucker. God’s creation. (Its from all the years of fighting off Apollo, he’ll tell you. In all honesty it’s just his recessive gene speaking through.)

. Great at gambling because hes good at deducing things

. Tbh he’s a god at debates. Since he likes to learn new things all the time, he’s actually very well versed in politics and social deconstruction. He likes to learn about the evils of the government and find ways to make people dislike it.

. Cody really likes to deep dive into anything he finds an interest in

If any of the pastas he is friends with or you like something, he is down to find everything there is to know about it . Like he has it all absorbed and watched and read about in a few days.

. Cody also tends to zone out, so finding something that interests him is a way to keep grounded and focused

. He collects little knickknacks from things he likes. He has little figurines, pins, stickers, etc

. He has his lab and does a whole bunch of cool shit. Cody wears a lab coat when he’s in his lab, but when he’s going out on a mission, then he wears his hoodie.

. Cody likes crab apples and oranges, but spaghetti is his main comfort food

. Cody has an interest in pop culture

. When he was younger, his favorite superhero was (and still is) Captain America. He wanted his “father” figure to make the super soldier serum so he could be like his favorite hero

. If some pastas were talking about drama and he hears it, he can recall it for a very long time. So if someone has secrets, they better be careful. This boi is quiet, observant, and has an amazing memory

. Thinks chipmunks are cute. Doesn’t like squirrels tho. Has some kind of hatred for them that no one understands. Probably why they are the one animal he kills the most when he goes hunting for prey.

. Will actually smack people with common sense and logic and be blunt as f u c k about it

. He likes to go on random adventures in the woods when he’s stressed or can’t focused.

. He’s the mansion’s go-to guy for any measurement liquid-to-powder ratio. He has done enough tests to tell you why you’re cooking is off or why you’re oobleck is too watery.

. Tbh besides being really good at chemistry and physics, he’s also really skilled at engineering. I believe he could have been an engineer in his past life.

. listens to a lot of rap, hip hop, and classic rock

. Due to how goddamn similar toby and him look, AND the fact that Cody doesn’t remember his real last name ultimately resulted in him stealing/burrowing Toby’s surname. He also just likes the way it sounds :) And honestly, it’s uncanny how much they look alike—they legitimately could be brothers

Bonus: they are unaware of this at the moment, but they are actually are brothers. I’ll elaborate this another time.

. Cody’s taller than Toby, with tanner skin and a slightly broader build, especially at the shoulders. But they have very similar facial features, with similar beauty spots scattered all over. Cody’s hair is darker and less thick/curly than Toby’s tho, and he often shaves his sides or gives himself an undercut/mullet to distinguish himself from his non-blood brother

. when he originally joined the mansion, he felt too... clean compared to the others, so he gave himself a bunch of piercings to make up for it. He’s got 2 eyebrow piercings on the left side of his face, a bridge piercing, snake bites & a tongue piercing. Not to mention all his ear piercings and a few more,,, private ones in a certain spot 😉

. If he wasn’t so pent up as a kid he would definitely be the kind of boy that you see in TikTok. Curly hair, slight tan, pretty eyes.

. He has Aspergers, so he’s not all that good at social cues, certain sudden noises can trigger certain outbursts, and when he focuses he focuses.

. 8/10 good singing voice, sometimes he goes to high or too low but it’s still good

. He radiates pure chaos, I don’t know his real birthday but he’s either a Leo or an Aquarius with this amount of crazy

. Knows all the dances to famous TikTok songs just to annoy people when they play

. He the kind of guy to blast a “Main character” playlist while driving in the middle of the night.

. He’s bad at social cues and gets very anxious or quiet if someone were to bring up that he’s being annoying. Sometimes this doesn’t affect him and makes him more chaotic

. Jokes about the 6ft rule

. He’s a master at savage comebacks

“ yeah, I don’t think I’m ever having kids. Because I’m broke, and if I’m broke than my kid will be broke. And honestly I don’t want to put the kid trough that”- x-virus

“ wow Cody being broke must run in your family”- Jeff

“Does being ugly run in yours?”- x-virus

“ A course not”- jeff

“ oh, so it just ran into you”- x-virus

“BURNNN!”- Circe

. He doesn’t get along well with a lot of the other pastas. He’s a very reserved, distrustful guy who sees himself as superior to most people due to his intelligence and doesn’t want to waste his time hanging out with what he calls “uneducated plebians”. He only really spends time with Toby and the more scientifically minded horrors like Eyeless Jack and Dr. Smiley.

. Speaking of Dr. Smiley, Cody works as his lab assistant. He’ll never admit it but he looks up to Dr. Smiley as a father figure. He sees him as a replacement for his adoptive father who he misses dearly and regrets murdering.

. X-Virus is the kind of guy who’d march up to a little kid, tell them Santa Claus isn’t real and insult them for crying.

. His second passion in life (after virology/science in general of course) is baseball. His dad introduced him to baseball after he had a bad day at school. He’s been a fan of the sport ever since.

. He is CONSTANTLY correcting people over the slightest mistakes and it annoys the other pastas to no end.

. Cody is very confused by the existence of supernatural stuff like ghosts, monsters and the Under Realm itself. He’s obviously aware that the supernatural exists since he’s visited the Under Realm and all but he doesn’t get how it fits in with his precious science. He tells himself that magic, monsters and such are just things scientists don’t understand yet.

. he was given his own shack slightly farther away from the others, where he conducts all his experiments. He spends a lot of time there, so he comes & goes, so he’s not as permanent as some of the others, but he’s pretty happy he finally found a place where he belongs uwu.

Overall x-virus is no doubt an andorable mad scientist.

P.s. none of this is canon, so don’t take seriously if you don’t want to. If you don’t like, take it somewhere else. Thank you.

Bye 👋🏻

P.s.s. Go check out Circe’s origin story on archive of our own. It’s called rabbits are not what they seen.

#creepypasta world building #slender proxy #creepypasta headcanon #x virus #creepypasta

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lexosaurus · 4 years ago

Text

The Illusionist

Dannymay2021 prompt: Illusion

My Hero Academia x Danny Phantom crossover Word Count: 5262 Read on: [ao3]

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“A kid?” Shouta asked.

The muffled sound of an explosion echoed from the other side of the phone line.

“He can’t be older than sixteen.” Kamui Woods' voice crackled through the receiver. “Eraserhead, this is going to sound crazy, but the kid has multiple quirks. We can’t get near him. He keeps...shit, he just flew through another wall!”

Shouta shifted his cell between his shoulder and ear, launching himself up a wall and onto the roof of a low building. He surveyed the distance and saw a bright green light flash from across the city.

That must have been them.

“We need you to nullify the quirks so we can contain him till the Illusionment wears off.”

“Alright,” Shouta said, jumping off the roof. “Send me your location. I’m on my way.”

It was a new villain, one that the public had dubbed ‘the Illusionist.’ His quirk was simple, yet effective. If he touched someone, he could make them hallucinate their worst fear.

So far, the heroes and detectives on the case hadn’t been able to figure out much about the Illusionist himself. He never struck the same victim twice, and he didn’t seem to stick around long enough for pro heroes to find him. Not to mention, the majority of his attacks happened in dark alleyways to the local homeless population, far from any cameras that would have been able to pick up his face.

And that fact made Aizawa’s blood boil. Because these weren’t attacks of revenge. No, they were attacks from someone who thought it was fun to mess with the disenfranchised. Someone who enjoyed exerting their powers over those they perceived to be less than, like some kid on a playground squishing ants beneath their sneakers.

The Illusionist’s influence was powerful, and each victim reacted differently. For some, they just froze up, lying motionless until they were found. For others, they lashed out at anyone who dared get close.

And in a society filled with countless unknown quirks, those of his targets who did lash out—though victims themselves—still needed to be dealt with.

The good news was, the quirk’s effects weren’t permanent, and he seemed to require a fairly long recharge time in between each attack. So the pro heroes never had to deal with more than one victim at a time.

So far, the heroes and police force had figured out two ways of dealing with the Illusionists’ victims. Either the victims were knocked out or put to sleep in some way, which seemed to instantly nullify the hallucination, or the victims were captured and taken to the police station to allow the quirk’s effects to naturally run their course.

Considering the heroes really wanted the victims brought in as peacefully as possible, it had been no surprise to Shouta when the other heroes started calling him in for assistance. Especially when the victims’ hallucinations caused them to fight back.

Such as, apparently, this one.

Shouta sprinted around a corner, panting. The cool night air brushed against his face, chilling his skin. He glanced down at his phone, only to see that Wood’s location had moved once again.

Which meant that the unstable, overpowered victim was on the move.

Wonderful.

Just then, his phone lit up.

Shouta didn’t wait to see who it was. “What is it?”

“Eraserhead,” Kamui Woods said. “We’re going to lead him to you. Meet us over by the abandoned antique warehouse. And keep your phone on you, he’s a flight risk. Literally.”

“Understood. Any injuries?”

“A few civilians, but medics are already on it. Nothing serious.”

“Good.”

Shouta hung up and changed his course. He weaved between buildings, kicking up water as puddles splashed at his feet.

If the heroes needed to lure the kid so far away from people, then things weren’t looking good.

Which meant that he needed to end this. Now.

But he didn’t make it to the warehouse. Not before a flying, glowing figure appeared through the wall, crashing into him first.

On instinct, Shouta activated his quirk and sent his capture weapon to the glowing figure, but his quirk had no effect. As soon as the scarf landed on the boy, he jerked away, phasing the scarf through his body.

Shouta blinked, deactivating and reactivating the quirk again. But just like the before, nothing happened. The figure—the boy—just continued to float in the air, his glowing green eyes staring wildly into the hero as if Shouta were the most terrifying human on Earth. He raised his hand, and a neon green swirling ball began to form around his fist.

“Watch out!” a voice behind him yelled.

Aizawa ducked just in time. The green blast hit the wall just above him, burning into the bricks like acid.

“Eraserhead, hurry!” Best Jeanist yelled.

Shouta tried again to activate his quirk, but it was no use.

The boy screamed, powering up an even bigger blast than last time.

“Eraserhead!”

Tree roots shot out in front of Shouta just in time. The blast hit Kamui Woods’ shield, splintering the roots and sending pieces flying through the air.

“Shit!” Shouta deactivated his quirk and jumped back, falling in line with the heros. “He’s resistant to my quirk!”

“We need to get him away from the residential area,” Best Jeanist said. “Force him to the industrial complex.”

“You’re not forcing me anywhere,” the teen roared back in a thick accent. His white glow ebbed and flowed around him as if he were drunk. “I won’t let you get me!”

“What is he seeing?” Shouta asked the three heroes behind him.

“A kidnapping of some sort,” Hound Dog replied.

“He keeps referring to us as ‘Operatives’. We’re unsure what that means.”

Apparently their talking only angered the glowing teen further. He raised a fist and his eyes brightened, changing from green to blue. “You’re not taking me!”

“Go!” Best Jeanist shouted.

The heroes jumped out of the alley just as the teen released the glowing blue energy ball, coating the pavement in a shockwave of jagged ice.

“How many quirks does this kid have?” Kumai Woods exclaimed.

Aizawa landed on the roof and released his capture weapon. “Doesn’t matter. Get him to the warehouse. I have a plan, but I have to make a call first.”

“Got it!”

The heroes jumped off the roof, chasing the kid out the alley and through another building.

“Don’t lose him!” Hound Dog yelled, running around the corner after him.

Shouta stayed back, pulling out his phone and pressing one of his emergency contacts. He watched as another blue beam glowed from a few blocks over, followed by a burst of green.

What the hell is that kid?

He couldn’t believe what he’d witnessed. The kid could talk, could communicate, and yet he had multiple quirks? In the ten seconds Shouta had seen him, he was witness to flight, phase-shifting, glowing, cryokinesis, a green energy beam, and immunity to Shouta’s quirk.

And yet, the kid wasn’t a nomu. He had intelligence. He seemed like he could have been a regular teen. A glowing one, sure, but a regular teen nonetheless.

So how did he end up with multiple quirks? And how did he become the Illusionist’s latest target? The Illusionist had only ever targeted homeless adults before. How did this teen get caught up in the mix?

Unless he was homeless himself.

The ringing stopped, and a tentative voice picked up from the other line. “Sensei?”

Shouta breathed a sigh of relief. “Shinso, I need you to come to the field. I’ll send you a location. We need your quirk.”

“My quirk?” Shinso asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

One day Shouta would crack through that massive layer of insecurity Shinso still clung onto about his quirk.

“Illusionist hit a kid with multiple quirks. We can’t get near him and he’s resistant to my quirk. We need you to subdue him. Put him to sleep.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

“Sending a location now.”

Shouta hung up and forwarded his location before darting over to the scene, using the sound of the kid’s frantic attacks as his GPS.

His feet pounded on the concrete. His quirk and capture weapon may have been useless against the kid, but that was fine. All he had to do was stall for time before Shinso could subdue him.

There was a loud bang, followed by a crash. Shouta skidded around the block and, using his weapon, launched himself onto a nearby roof.

There was a large hole in the side of a building that thankfully appeared to be empty. Dust clouded the air, but through it Shouta could see the kid backing into the building like a cornered animal, his arms raised and glowing a threatening acid green.

Kumai woods stepped forward slowly, his arms raised above his head. “We don’t want to hurt you!

“Don’t—don’t come another step!” The teen growled, stumbling to the side. His voice had an odd, echoing quality to it. “I’ve escaped your stupid compound once, and I’ll do it again!”

Shouta jumped down from the roof, landing in front of the heroes. He crouched down, trying to appear as non threatening as possible. “What compound?”

The kid let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t act stupid! You were gloating enough last time!”

“We’re not going to take you to a compound,” Kumai Woods tried.

But reasoning with someone under the Illusionist’s influence was futile. Heroes and police officers had attempted it before, and it never worked.

“I’m not an idiot! I know what you do to people like me!”

Shouta froze, alarm bells going off in his head. Something was just... wrong. On a fundamental level, something wrong had happened to this kid. And based on the way his eyes darted around the empty room, he looked about a second away from making an escape.

Okay, Shouta had to stall. If the kid thought that the heroes were kidnappers, then maybe he could draw this out.

He tilted his head questioningly. “Sorry, I’m new here.” He felt his coworkers’ eyes burning against the back of his skull. “I wasn’t here for the last time.”

The kid’s distorted eyes locked onto him. “I’m sure you’ve read the reports.”

“Haven’t had time, actually. This is my first day.”

“You’re still wearing the suit. You’re still with them.”

Shouta stared at him for a moment. The kid’s stark white hair floated as if defying gravity, and the glow around him had almost an ethereal presence. But what stood out the most to him was his clothing. He was dressed like something out of a laboratory. His suit was thin and rubbery, with rubber gloves and boots to match.

He was definitely the product of a science experiment. There was no doubt about it. Likely a trafficked kid taken from another country and transported here for human experimentation.

Aizawa felt sick.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“You know where.”

“I told you, this is my first day. I just moved here. I don’t know you yet.”

Apparently, that wasn’t good enough for the teen. “I’m not saying anything. You can ask Operative K over there.” He nodded towards Best Jeanist.

“What sorts of things did they do to you? Last time?”

“I—I don’t—” the teen stuttered, the green glow flickering out from his fists. He clamped his hands over his ears. “Shut up!”

“I don’t want to do those things,” Shouta continued. “I don’t want to...use you like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. If you’re with them, you’re here to take me. And I can’t, I can’t do that again. I’ll never let you take me. I’m smarter than your whole organization and you know it.” His eyes brightened with a frantic energy, warping until one eye was green and the other blue. “I’ve escaped from your stupid white compound once, and I’ll do it again.”

Aizawa rose slowly.

This wasn’t looking good.

Hurry up, Shinsho.

The kid raised his arms, and a swirling mass of green and blue encased his fist, traveling up his forearms and swallowing his elbows. It pulsated and grew, casting a shadow over the teen’s face.

“Eraserhead!” Hound Dog warned.

“I’m not going quietly.”

Shouta readied himself to dodge when a flash of purple caught his eye.

“Hey kid!” Shinso called out.

Glowing green and blue snapped over to the source of the new voice. “What?” he hissed.

Shouta could almost see the satisfied smirk under Shinso’s mask.

“Go to sleep.”

The effect was immediate. The mass of energy faded from the kid’s hands, leaving only his natural white glow. He lowered himself to the ground until his toes were touching the cement, then his knees, and finally his head. Then, just when his eyes fluttered close, a white ring appeared at his waist, traveling up his body replacing the glowing, ethereal teen with a small European looking boy.

“Whoa,” Shinso breathed.

Despite the protests behind him, Shouta slowly made his way over to the teen. His white hair had changed to black, and his skin had lost its glow completely. His laboratory clothes had been replaced with ripped jeans and a dirty white and red shirt.

He looked...plain. Boring and scrawny. If Shouta hadn’t witnessed the terrifying figure just moments ago, he could have passed the boy off as just a quirkless kid.

Whatever he was, he was asleep.

“Good job, Hitoshi,” he said, turning back around to face the heroes. Not to his surprise, his husband and other child were among the group. “Present Mic, Todoroki,” he greeted.

Hizashi—ever the optimist—gave Shouta a cheerful wave along with a chipper, “Hello!” while Shouto stood quietly behind the heroes.

“Who is he?” Shinso asked, eyeing the sleeping teen warily.

Best Jeanist made his way over to the group. “Some kid with multiple quirks. Likely from experimentation. With his amount of quirks, we have no idea what he’s like mentally. We need to get him to the police.”

“We sent them your location already. They should be here soon,” Hizashi said.

“Good.”

Shouta gave the kid one last glance.

What happened to him?

---

It didn’t take long before the police, led by Detective Tsukauchi, arrived at the scene. They were able to get the kid into quirk inhibitors, load him into the back of a car, and bring him into the station before he woke up.

Yamada brought the boys back home before meeting him at the station. Shouta made a mental note to grab Shinsho his favorite take-out meal tomorrow for his immaculate quirk usage.

When they arrived at the station, they brought a couch into one of the interrogation rooms, put the kid on it, and waited.

Shouta almost felt bad for him. It would have been scary for anyone to wake up after a traumatic hallucination wearing quirk inhibitors in a cold, unfeeling room. But unfortunately, nobody had known the extent of his quirks. Victim or not, he was still unstable.

Aside from sitting upright, the kid hadn’t moved an inch, and he couldn’t seem to be able to pass the inhibitors through his body like he had with Shouta’s capture weapon.

Which was good. That meant that the quirk inhibitors were doing their job.

Shouta stared at him through the one-way mirror. He’d been half expecting the same frantic energy from the teen boy as before, but the teen just sat there quietly. His slumped body language screamed resigned, while his eyes were slowly shifting around the room as if to memorize every speck of dust in the air.

“You would never suspect that kid would have multiple quirks,” Yamada said next to him. “He just looks so...tiny.”

Aizawa took a large gulp of his much-needed coffee. “And yet, he does.”

The door behind them opened, and a woman stepped through. She stopped in front of Detective Tsukauchi. “He’s not registered. We scanned the database and found no record of anyone with multiple quirks that fit his description. In addition, we ran the sample of the green substance from his projection quirk and couldn’t find any matches to any known compounds on record. We’ve sent the samples out for further testing.”

“No matches?” Shouta asked.

“Interesting.” Detective Tsukauchi said. He turned towards the interrogation room’s door. “I believe it’s time to talk to our victim. Suzuki, I want you to stay outside. I think having more than one adult in the room may scare him off. Use your quirk, though. I have a feeling our victim may be a bit wary.”

The woman nodded and stationed herself next to Shouta. She stared at the boy, blinked, and then her eyes began to glow.

“It’s showtime.”

The moment the doorknob moved, the black haired teen’s body language shifted to something more alert, more guarded. His blue eyes tracked Tsukauchi’s movements until the detective had sat down in his metal chair.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Detective Tsukauchi. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble today. Would you like some water?”

The teen didn’t respond.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Based on previous victims’ responses, they had always been able to remember the hallucinations, but they couldn’t recall their actions or where they were during those times.

“It’s okay if you don’t. Again, you’re not in trouble.”

But the kid wasn’t relaxing. If anything, he looked more guarded than before. “If I’m not in trouble, then why am I here?”

“You were hit by a quirk,” he explained. “Have you heard of the Illusionist?”

The teen shifted. “Maybe.”

“He’s a villain who makes people experience their worst fears.”

A spark of recognition hit the boy’s eyes, but it was quickly masked by the previous reserved expression. “So I got hit.”

“Yes. So far his targets have all been random attacks.” Tsukauchi opened his manila folder, pulling out photographs and handing them to the teen. “This was from earlier tonight. Do you remember any of this?”

He scanned the photographs, and Aizawa watched as the color drained from the teen’s face. He stared at the folder in silence for a moment before his shaky voice said, “If I’m not in trouble, I’d like to leave.”

“We just have a few questions we’d like to ask in order to help us catch him.”

“I want to leave.”

Detective Tsukauchi seemed unphased by the kid’s request. “Alright, can I get your name? We can call your parents to come pick you up.”

As expected, the teen didn’t like this. He shoved the photographs back into Tsukauchi’s hands, leaned back against the couch, and crossed his arms. “I’m eighteen. Can I go now?”

“He’s lying,” Detective Suzuki whispered next to them.

Recognition sparked in Shouta’s brain. He remembered her, she had a Lie Detection quirk. It was quite useful for police work.

“In that case, we were unable to obtain any record of any adult with your quirk combinations. Japanese law dictates that every citizen must be registered in our quirk database. So if you are unregistered, then we’d need to go through the registration process before we can release you.”

“I’m not a Japanese citizen.”

“You here on vacation?”

The kid glared to the wall. “Something like that.”

“American?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been visiting?”

The teen shrugged.

Tsukauchi jotted something down in his notebook. “Then I’d need to see your passport and visitor’s documentation for the official record, since you are now a victim in an ongoing investigation.”

The teen’s eyes narrowed, and he slumped down further into the cushion. “I don’t have any.”

“What happened to it?”

The teen shrugged.

Yamada leaned into Shouta’s ear. “He’s backed into a corner.”

“Yup,” Shouta took another swig at his coffee. “He can’t get out of this one.”

The teen huffed, frustration and a tint of fear strewn across his features. He ran a hand through his messy black hair. “Listen, can I just go? I don’t remember anything, okay? I was just sleeping and then all of the sudden I...I...he got me. But I swear I wasn’t doing anything, and I didn’t see his face.”

Detective Tsukauchi nodded compassionately. “I’m very sorry that this happened to you. It’s a very vivid and traumatic experience to go through. Unfortunately, we’re in a bit of a bind currently seeing as you are either an unregistered quirk user, or you have no proof that you’re in this country legally. Now if it’s true that you’re eighteen, we can’t let you leave without contacting the US embassy to get your identification.”

Any color left in the teen’s face vanished. “What if...what if they can’t identify me?”

“Can’t identify you? For what reason?”

The teen stood suddenly and walked over to the wall. His hands trembled, and he looked downright terrified.

Who was he scared of?

He picked at the ragged hem of his shirt. “I don’t—I’m not exactly…they—they just don’t know I exist.”

Shouta glanced at Suzuki, who seemed perplexed.

“Is he telling the truth?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Suzuki said. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but he at least believes that he doesn’t have citizenship in Japan or the United States.”

“Even though he’s American.”

“Exactly.”

Aizawa’s brows furrowed, and he looked back at the teen, who was pressed up against the wall wringing his wrists with his fingers.

“Can you give me your name?” Detective Tsukauchi asked.

The teen bit his lip. “Uh it’s—it’s…” His voice was strangled. “It’s Danny Fenton.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Detective Tsukauchi gave him a comforting smile. “Okay, Danny. And do you know where you were born?”

“Uh…The United States.”

“But, and correct me if I’m wrong, you have no birth certificate? And no documentation to show legal entry to Japan?”

“I—yeah.”

“And you’re here in Japan now. Where have you been staying exactly?”

Danny’s eyes darted around the room. “I don’t know...around?”

“Okay,” Detective Tsukauchi shut his manila folder and stood. “Again, you’re not in trouble. You were a victim of a very serious crime, and we’re here to help you. I’m going to make a quick call, and I’ll be right back. The door’s unlocked if you need anything.”

If anything, that only made Danny look more anxious than before. He nodded, his face sheet white, and he tugged at the inhibitors on his wrists.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Yamada asked quietly. He was dressed in his civilian clothes, and his hair was thrown up into a messy low bun. Without his uniform, his compassion towards the child shined out like a beacon.

It was one of the many qualities that Shouta loved about him. His strong sense to protect the innocent, his caring nature to kids and those who were vulnerable in society, and the kindness he radiating from his being were qualities that were rare even among heroes.

“We’ll contact the US embassy, but if the boy’s telling the truth and he doesn’t have a social security number or birth certificate, then he’ll get picked up by Musutafu’s social services and he’ll be put into the system.”

Yamada stared sadly at the child through the mirror. “He’ll just run away again.”

“He will,” Shouta agreed.

“I wish we could help him.”

Shouta sighed. “We can’t save everyone.”

“But you see it, don’t you?” Yamada asked. “There’s something going on that the kid’s not telling us. How else could he have gotten multiple quirks? Do you think it has anything to do with the League?”

Shouta glanced back at Danny, who was currently crouched against the wall with his head in his hands. He looked so small, so fragile. Aizawa could only wonder what events had led him here.

Just who was Danny Fenton?

“Shouta, we can’t let him out on his own. We just can’t.”

Shouta sighed, running his thumb along the side of his coffee cup. “I know,” he said.

And he meant it.

---

“So…” Shouta started.

Danny just looked tired.

It had been a long night. Detective Tsukauchi got a hold of the US embassy’s emergency line, but they didn’t have any records of a Danny Fenton that had left the United States, nor did they have a single missing children’s report of a Danny Fenton, nor could they supposedly dig up any information of a Danny Fenton based on the information that Danny himself supplied, specifically that he was born in Illinois in a city called Amity Park.

It was as if he didn’t exist.

Detective Suzuki’s quirk was powerful, and it didn’t seem like Danny was able to fool it. After he met her and she explained her quirk to him, he finally admitted he was only fifteen. So then who was this kid? If he was from Amity Park, why did the United States have no record of him?

The heroes knew he had parents, but apparently—and Suzuki confirmed this—they’d disowned him, giving him to some shady organization. Danny wouldn’t say to who ended up with custody of him, but from what they’d been able to piece together, it hadn’t been good.

And any further digging just resulted in Danny clamming up.

So Danny was a runaway, one that apparently didn’t exist in either country he had lived in. And there was something out there that had terrified him into escaping to Musutafu and hiding here.

But he wouldn’t say what.

Regardless, the Musutafu police department now had a case of a minor in Japan who didn’t have any parents, guardians, or any known relatives in the country, nor did he have any record of housing at any point.

It was as if this kid were a ghost or something.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” Danny asked, hugging himself in his chair.

He seemed smaller up close. Too small.

“Well, social services will take you and place you in foster care,” Shouta responded.

“Oh…” Danny looked down. “You know...you’ve seen my powers. I’ll just disappear the moment we leave this building.”

Shouta raised his brows.

Of course, they all knew it. But the kid certainly had guts for admitting it out loud.

“Who are you running from?” Shouta asked.

Danny blinked at his bluntness. “No one.”

Shouta leaned in. “Is it the League of Villains? Are you connected with them?”

Danny’s arms shot out from his sides, waving frantically in front of his face. “No! No, I swear! I’m not a villain!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I…” Danny looked lost.

“You have multiple quirks. That’s something the league’s been experimenting with. And they’re not shy about using real people to do so.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never met them.”

“But you weren’t born with multiple quirks,” Shouta said. “Something happened that made you this way.”

He could see as all the pieces slowly crumbled inside Danny. The kid went from looking confused, to downright terrified.

Bingo.

Aizawa’s instincts never failed him.

“Please, just let me go,” Danny begged. “I promise I won’t do anything. Please don’t hurt me.”

Shouta’s eyes widened. “Kid, slow down. I’m not here to hurt you. Okay? I’m on your side.”

That didn’t seem to help Danny at all.

Shouta set his arms on the table where Danny could see them. “You know, one of my foster kids has multiple quirks.” It was a half lie, but he didn’t think that Shouto would mind.

Sure enough, that seemed to pique Danny’s interests. “Really?”

“Yeah. Great kid, about your age. His father was experimenting with creating children who could house multiple quirks to offset his own quirk’s disadvantages, and my foster son came out of it. Just like you, he spent a lot of his life hiding too. He was alone, and scared. He didn’t know what to do or who he could trust, so he just hid.”

“What changed?” Danny asked.

“He asked for help,” Shouta said. “And we were able to bring him into a stable home.”

Danny’s eyes clouded over, and his face transformed into one of longing. As if he were visiting a memory that had long since abandoned him.

“We can get you that help too if you ask for it.”

“I...I can’t…”

Shouta sighed. “How long are you going to keep hiding? Running? Are you really okay with spending the rest of your life out on the streets?”

Danny ducked his head down. “It’s not so bad,” he muttered.

“But kid, you deserve so much more than that.”

The teen’s shoulders shuddered. He sniffed, and his hand shot up to wipe his eye.

Shouta refused to look away from him. “I don’t know how you got here, I have no idea what you’ve been through, but I know that you didn’t deserve it, and that regardless of what you think, you deserve a safe place to go home to.”

“I...I…” he croaked, curling into himself. Tears splashed onto his cheeks.

“You’re strong, you’ve done so much alone. Now we can help you.”

“I can’t…”

“You can, Danny.”

At that, Danny broke. He squeezed his eyes shut, twisting his hoodie in his hands. Shouta watched as he tried to muffle his sobs, but he couldn’t. His body shook as his emotions poured into the open.

Shouta didn’t know how long this kid had been holding it all in. Just how many days, weeks, months had he been shoving everything down, too focused on surviving each day to be able to stop and feel?

Pain stabbed Shouta’s heart. He remembered that torment all too well, one of homelessness, of abuse, of not knowing where his next meal was coming from and fighting for the bare necessities. Although he wasn’t so much of a soft, touchy-feely guy himself, right now he wanted nothing more than to reach over and hug the crying teen.

When it seemed like Danny was finally able to pull himself together, Shouta leaned in and asked, “Will you let me help you, Danny?”

Danny scrubbed at his eyes and nodded.

“If you want,” he said, making sure to articulate each word clearly. “I can assist you in getting placed in a good home. There’s another option too.”

“Yeah?”

“The other option is you can stay with me.”

Danny stilled, his eyes shooting open and his lips dropping to form a small ‘o’.

“My husband and I have a city approved foster home, and we also happen to have an open bed at the moment. Given your unique situation, I have the option of housing you if you’ll let me.”

Danny didn’t respond. He just continued to stare at Shouta in shock.

“Of course,” Shouta said quickly. “If you are uncomfortable with that, and it’s okay if you are, there are other good foster homes out there that I personally know and can get you placed in. It’s whatever you prefer.”

The teen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he finally looked back at Shouta, he had that same longing expression as before. “If it’s alright...could I stay with you? At least for a little while?”

The corners of his lips tugged up. He remembered all too well when Yamada turned to him just before Shouta was about to age out of the foster system and asked him if he wanted to move in together. He remembered the shock, the surprise that anyone could possibly care that much about him, that anyone would want to live with him.

And now, he had a family. One that was about to become a little bigger.

“Of course. I’d love to have you.”

---

Thanks for reading!

[check out some of my other fics]

#danny phantom #dannymay2021 #bnha #my hero academia #my writing #aka danny has A Bad Time #but it's ok because dadzawa

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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

Text

One Day

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Drunk!Harry Fluff!

Word count: 2K

A/N: Hi all! This is some drunk boyfriend harry fluff that I just love sm. It’s based off of “One Day” by Catie Turner (I highly recommend listening to it!!) More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think in my ask! Thank you so much for reading!

***

Harry was the life of the party when he wanted to be. He knew how to let loose, with a tequila on the rocks in one hand and a beer in the other, ready to party until he (literally) dropped. He always ended up on some sort of elevated surface like a teenage girl, usually a kitchen island or an absurdly expensive coffee table, singing along to whatever music was playing, magically knowing every word to whatever came over the speakers. Sometimes he would get lost in the winding corridors of the massive mansions his friends lived in, taking a wrong turn in his enhibrated state and ending up somewhere he definitely wasn’t supposed to be. There was also one time he jumped off a (thankfully low) roof into the swimming pool below.

But usually, he was calm, cool, and collected; gently sipping on a single drink he would nurse for most of the night. The two of you liked to sit and watch during these parties, his hand settling securely on your waist, keeping you close to him and away from the chaos that unfolded before you. You would curl up on a couch somewhere and just watch it all play out like it was an observational study, often giving commentary and ranking people and their drunk dancing out of 10.

“I feel like we're the mean girls in the corner of the cafeteria who just sit and silently judge everyone around them,” you would giggle, nuzzling yourself further into his side.

“That’s because we are the mean girls in the corner judging everyone around them, sweetheart” he would reply, in a slightly buzzed drawl.

But tonight was not one of those nights. And Harry had ended up standing on top of the dining room table scream-singing ABBA at the top of his lungs.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic and messy performance. His limbs flailed freely as he wiggled his hips along to the beat of Dancing Queen, singing into a small statue of a naked woman he had picked up off an end table that you assumed to be very, very expensive, like it was a microphone. He wore a pair of high rise denim flares that swayed along with his movements to the music and his white “Women are Smarter'' shirt was now stuck to his body with sweat, just see through enough for his butterfly to make an appearance.

He only came down after a green malaise began to settle over his features, skin slightly clammy and a bit pale. You extended a hand, helping his loopy body down off the table and letting him settle into your side for support once he was on solid ground again. “Let’s head to the bathroom, H,” you said gently, trying to settle the panic that was beginning to crawl into his eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

Once he got to the beautifully large and extravagant bathroom, he crawled into a small, or as small as the large man could make himself, ball and rested his hot clammy cheeks against the cool marble of the floor. “May have overdone it,” he grumbled from his spot on the floor, holding on for dear life as you were sure the room was spinning for him.

“Ya think?” you teased, immediately feeling a pang of guilt when you were met with a pathetically needy face from him in return. “Oh baby, it’s okay.” You carefully dug through the cabinets, knowing there had to be washcloths somewhere in the lavish room, and once you found one you dampened it with cold water. Settling down on the tile next to him, you pulled him and his sweaty curls on to your lap, wiping the layer of sweat delicately from his skin and then resting the cold cloth on his forehead.

You two stayed in this position for a while, carefully rubbing his back in an effort to sooth the large man and trying to ignore the loud music that was still shaking the house around you. He looked small like this, no longer your giant protector, but like a younger version of himself who just needed someone to take care of him. You were happy to be that person, as he always was for you.

This was the first time you had ever seen him like this. He always managed to know his limits, but tonight he just went off the deep end. He had been working like a dog, constantly in and out of the studio, frustrated that none of the songs he was writing were up to his astronomically high standards for himself. It wasn’t too shocking that he was trying to escape that stress.

Gradually, as he laid on the floor and you held him close, the color came back into his cheeks and he stopped holding onto your legs like the room was about to take flight. When you sat him up against the wall, he was still a bit wobbly, but no longer looked like he was about to unload his stomach contents all over the room.

“How are you feeling now, H?” you asked softly, scanning his face for discomfort or distress as you dabbed the washcloth over his skin.

“’m okay,” he hiccuped back, “jus’ needed a cuddle.” He got exceptionally British when he got this drunk, his accent coming out in a barely distinguishable garble of tall vowels and dropped consonants, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

His eyes fluttered open and closed without rhythm as he looked at you, his light green eyes glazed over with a glassy shine, and his mouth hung open slightly, like he didn’t have the coordination to close it. His pink cheeks were flushed and his skin had a sweaty sheen. His head had rolled off too one side and rested on his shoulder, like his neck had given up on holding his head up, and his arms fell heavy at his sides.

You should have been at least slightly annoyed with him for acting like a college kid, drinking until he made himself sick. His behavior and subsequent need for you to take care of him should have gotten under your skin and caused a bit of anger to bubble up into your chest. But it didn’t. You were just taking care of your man.

“Do you still feel nauseous?”

“‘m a-ok, babay” he said, making himself giggle with his rhyme. His lips lazily curled up into a smile and he dragged a lazy arm up to give the “OK” symbol with his uncoordinated fingers, before the heavy limb dropped back down to the tile beneath him.

“Okay, funny man,” you began sarcastically, planning on instructing to drink the glass of water you had retrieved on your way up to the bathroom, when he cut you off.

“I am pretty funny, aren’t I?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back the loud belly laugh that fell past your lips. He took the glass from you and began to sip, a proud smirk never leaving his lips as he looked at you.

“You were a comedian in a past life.”

“I agree.”

You two were quiet for a bit, Harry drinking something other than tequila for the first time the entire night, and you just admiring him in silence. You let your hand crawl into his, interlocking your fingers together before bringing it up to your lips and pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles. It wasn’t long before his glass of water was finished and he crawled back into your arms, his back pressing to your chest with your arms wrapped securely around his shoulders. Your fingers ran through his still damp curls, initially just to push them up and away from his forehead and eyes, but continued when you heard the little happy mewls coming from him.

“Ya take such good care of me,” he said sloppily with a gentle tone, breaking through the bubble of silence you two had created together.

“I always will.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his salty forehead and settled back onto the hard wall behind you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hadn’t been together for long, with saying the “L” word still being pretty new, and still slightly foreign, to both of you. But you meant it when you said it, you loved him, and your body always filled with a blushing warmth when he said he loved you too.

You had met through work when you interviewed him for the magazine you worked at. From the moment you saw those dimples in real life, you were weak in the knees and enamored with him. You hadn’t been trying to flirt, it just happened. And before he left the office, you had a date planned for that Friday. That was 6 months ago now and they had been some of the happiest of your life.

“Will you marry me?”

The question left his lips in his absurdly difficult to understand drawl and it took you a moment to process what he said, but when you did your heart stopped.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry him, because you did, but not now.

It was too soon. There was still too much for you to do together, too much still to learn about him, and too much for him to learn about you. You hadn’t even had a serious fight yet; you didn’t know how he dealt with conflict or how you would react to it. You didn’t live together; you didn’t know how your living habits would match up or if they would drive each other insane. You didn’t know how you would deal with him touring being away for so long.

There was just too much you didn't know.

“I will someday.” You spoke gently, trying hard not to hurt his currently fragile feelings. You were now holding his face tenderly, like if you held him steady and close, you could lessen the blow.

“So, no?” he looked up at you with his big puppy dog eyes, feeling guilt punch you in the gut.

“For now. Everything is just going so well right now, we don’t have to mess with it.”

“Jus’ wanna be with you forever,” he said softly and your heart began to melt. He was such a soft person, who felt everything so deeply and with so much emotion. He was a sap, and you loved him for it. You pulled him closer to your chest, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

“And you will be,” you breathed. “Forever will still be there down the line.”

“Why not now?” His lips held an adorable pout and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing a kiss to them. He tasted awful, like tequila and sweat, but the kiss was loving and sweet as you tried to pour all your love for him into it.

“Because we still have to grow,” you watched the end of his mouth tick up, sure to make some sort of smartass comment about you both being grown already. “We have to grow together,” you finished.

“I guess so,” he mused softly.

“I promise that I will say ‘yes’ when we are ready someday.”

“Someday,” he repeated softly, feeling the words on his own lips. “I’m going to keep asking, ya know?” he smirked up at you, his smile and joking tone signalling that you hadn’t broken his heart, just bruised his ego a bit.

“That’s perfectly okay,” you sighed, a contagious smile finding its way to your own lips. “I’m going to keep saying ‘no’ until we’re ready, ya know?” you teased, using his own words against him.

“One day, I’ll make an honest woman outta ya when you let me.”

“One day.”

Thank you reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean the world!!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harryandhockey #my writing

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

Text

It's Who We Are Underneath That Defines Us

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.9K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: Really gotta make the story where the Batfamily learns she and GL are dating. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“Hey babe?”

She hummed absentmindedly, her eyes still trained to the stars above. “Yeah, Kyle?” Fingers twitched against her palm, then laced with her own; a heartbeat pounded against her skin, like a pulsing speaker, causing her to look over at him. “Is everything alright?”

Evergreen eyes met hers and he murmured, “Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t a superhero?”

She blinked, the question giving her a slight pause. Leaning closer, she propped her chin in his shoulder and teased, “Thinking about how you could’ve had an apple pie and picket fence life, Kyle?”

A grin crossed his lips and he glanced over at her. “To be honest with you, (Y/N), I’m more of a cherry pie kinda man.” His gaze dropped, and his eyes roamed her body. “Blame Warrant on that one.” She rolled her eyes, but the laugh she gave him showed her amusement. Kyle paused, his gaze searching her face. “But back to my original question...what do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t a vigilante?”

(Y/N) inhaled deeply, rolling away from his shoulder and laid on her back, her eyes scanning the immense field of stars above them. “I don’t know, honestly. I’ve never really given it much thought.” Raising her hand, she traced the scars across her expanse of her arm with her eyes. “I’ve been training to be a vigilante since I was ten years old...helping people is all I’ve ever really wanted to do with life.”

She looked back over at him. “But since you asked, if I wasn’t a vigilante, I’d probably be a stuck-up rich bitch who overcharges her dad’s credit cards and throws hissy fits when she gets told no.” Kyle snorted, and she giggled.

After a moment of silence, he looked to her and asked, “Would you ever change anything you’ve done?”

The question he’d given her had been one she’s asked herself so many times. What if’s rising to the tongue of a girl too afraid to choose a path other than that of the least resistance, but ultimately keeping them contained and taking the hardest ones anyway. (Y/N) bit her lip slightly, the memories of every mistake, every wrong choice, flashing behind her eyes like lightning in a storm. The fingers laced though hers squeezed gently, dragging her from them, and she glanced back over, her eyes tracing the wisps of hair at his temples that had fallen from the gel he’d put in it earlier.

She blinked, then gave him a smile, her voice soft as she replied, “No...I don’t think I would change a single thing.”

Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he questioned, “Why not? Hasn’t there been a time where you’ve screwed up monumentally and couldn’t change it?”

(Y/N) watched him carefully, the words toying with the tip of her tongue as she asked calmly, “Are you talking about what happened to Alex?”

His face momentarily darkened, a mixture of anger, hate, and self-loathing, then it fell, and she saw the pain and regret in his eyes and heard it in his voice as he muttered, “I’m talking about everything that I’ve done wrong.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, the heel of his tennis shoes scraping against the brick of the roof. He let out a heavy sigh, causing her heart to tighten, and she rose beside him, curling her arm through his.

They stared at the city across the water, then she murmured, “When I was sixteen, I accidentally shoved someone over a support beam during a fight.” He eyed her, silently wondering what had happened and just what the hell this had to do with his issues. “Didn't mean to, of course. But he grabbed me from behind, and I did what I'd been trained to do—react. I freed myself and made the distance between us. But I misjudged the force of my kick and he tumbled over and down about a hundred feet onto concrete.”

She paused, thumb rubbing the back of his hand. “When my family and friends saw what I’d done, even if it were an accident, a lot of them decided to keep me at an arm's length. ‘She might kill again’, they said, ‘If she’s killed once, she’ll do it again...there’s no way we can trust her anymore.’ Eventually, I stopped patrolling with the Titans and Teen Titans. Hell, I even stopped helping the Justice League. I did my own thing by myself because no one trusted me anymore. ‘Til this day, there are some people within the superhero community who shun me and don’t trust me. And at every meeting, somehow, someway, it's always brought up.”

(Y/N) looked over at him, squeezing his hand again. “Wherever I go, whatever I do, that follows me. It’s never going to be let go, and it’s certainly never going to be forgotten. However, despite those problems and feelings, and what occurred in the past, that accident doesn't define meor my actions. Yes, I unintentionally took someone’s life, but I’m not a murderer. I carry that burden with me, and I always will and while I can't change what happened, it drives me to make sure that I don't make the same mistake again.”

She let go of his hand, slipping her legs on either side of his body, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks; she caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs, staring into his eyes, and mustered the sincerest voice she could. “Kyle, what you’ve gone through, the people you’ve lost, the people you’ve saved, and the friends you’ve gathered along the way? That’s not who you are...it’s what you do with it that defines who you are.” His eyes widened slightly, and his lips parted to speak, but no words fell from them.

(Y/N) gave him a warm smile and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his forehead; she pulled back and murmured, “It may not mean much, but I'm proud of you, Kyle. You make me proud every single day.” She watched him exhale shakily, and she swore she could see the damn inside him breaking as he lowered his head, his arms reaching to pull her against him.

She shifted, perching in his lap, and let him bury his face in her neck. Kyle let out a breath, but it felt more like a soft sob, and heat blossomed against her skin where his lips touched.

He let out a sound, crossing between a groan and grunt as he told her, “I love you, (Y/N).”

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips brushing his temple. “I love you too, Kyle.”

They stayed that way for a few minutes, simply holding the other. Providing the anchors needed to keep their spirits alive. Eventually, (Y/N) pulled back and dragged his face away from her neck, huffing a laugh when he whined lowly from the loss of contact.

She reached up and wiped his face. “You look like a kid who was told no to ice-cream before dinner.”

Kyle let out a chuckle, moving her hands away and rubbing at his face vigorously. She climbed out of his lap and sat beside him once more, and he looked over at her wondering, “How do you manage to stay so positive outside the mask? To be the same person in costume and out?”

(Y/N) went silent, thinking for a moment, then she said, “A few years ago, I asked my dad the same thing, and he told me, ‘It doesn't matter who we are underneath the costume or out in the real world...it’s what we do in or out that defines us. If the person you claim to be isn’t the same person inside and outside of uniform, you don’t need to be wearing it.’” She glanced back over at him, nudging him in the ribs. “Don't worry about it though, you’re still a dork inside and out of G.L.”

Kyle let out an amused scoff, placing a hand against his chest. “I can't believe you would insult your boyfriend like that. A dork? I’m hurt.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, looking back at the city. “Kyle, you doodle in the middle of J.L. meetings, and it’s usually caricatures of my dad strangling Hal, the Joker, Jason, or Dick…typically it depends on what’s going on during the meetings and who’s been a pain in his ass for it.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but shut it, then raised a pointer finger at her. “Alright, you have me there.”

(Y/N) looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Of course I have you there, Dork Lantern...” She gave him a grin, wiggling her eyebrows and quipped, “I sit and doodle with you.” The two of them laughed, and she rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh. “I could stay with you here forever.”

Kyle nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Me too.”

A moment of silence passed them, and as they were enjoying it, a voice called out, “Oi! Kyle! Queenie! Are you guys up there!”

She let out a groan, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “So help me God, I can’t enjoy anything without dumb and dumber sticking their noses into it.”

Kyle looked over at her, his eyebrows furrowing as he pointed out, “But there’s only one?”

(Y/N) raised a hand in a ‘wait’ motion, then she waved it and, “Of course they’re up there Little-wing. The roof is where all the teens go to make out.”

Her eye twitched, and she leaned over the ledge, shouting, “The only person who’s made out on the roof is you, Dick. And it was with Kori after you guys broke up...AGAIN.”

A scoff sounded below followed by, “Hit me where it hurts why don't you!” She rolled her eyes, huffing, then he asked, “Is Kyle up there with you?”

“And what’s it to you?”

“Just wanted to make sure you guys are acting appropriate.”

“Dick...I am older than you. Kyle and I are both older than you.”

“So?”

(Y/N) turned to Kyle and mouthed, ‘Wanna get out of here?’ He flashed her a grin, then a strike of green blinded her, and he stood before her in his Green Lantern suit. He held out his hand. A beam of green light surrounded them, and a moment later, (Y/N) felt herself drop into a seat. She looked around, a grin appearing on her lips as she ran her hand along the dash of the constructed car.

“Kyle, are you trying to woo me with my love of nice cars?”

He matched her grin, laying his unoccupied arm across the seats. “I don't know...is it working?”

She nodded, sliding over into his side. “Yes. It is.” He chuckled, and they started moving, leaving her two brothers yelling for them.

“Kyle! Are you letting (Y/N) ride in the Green Machine?! You never let me do that!”

“(Y/N)’s my girlfriend, Jason!”

“I’M YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND! WHAT EVEN!”

She leaned across Kyle, glaring at Dick and Jason. “Go do something productive with your time, losers.”

“I am hurt, Jellybean! I thought you loved me!”

“Only when I can get something out of it!” (Y/N) glanced at Kyle and grinned. “Hit the gas G.L. Don't let ‘em catch the taillights.” He smirked, and they waved as they left Wayne Manor behind them.

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captnjacksparrow · 3 years ago

Note

it baffles me how much s*sus*ku stans have to use secondary sources — especially the novel — to support their ship. in the novel, it was stated how sakura’s skin was glowing since sasuke’s return, indicating that sasuke and sakura were having s*x when he comes home late at night when sarada isn’t aware.

to me, this seems heavily ooc as he doesn’t even show affection to his own wife in gaiden whereas he has no issue showing affection towards Naruto with pet names, close proximity, smiling and eye contact, etc.. just where the hell does this kind of thing come from? why would he willingly choose to neglect spending time with sarada to have s*x with sakura late at night? like honestly

and it’s funny because the majority of these novels who depict sasuke in this manner are written by DIFFERENT AUTHORS! that says enough for me.

but anyways, have you seen the SP’s illustrations of sasusaku’s relationships in the blank period? you know, the journey that sasuke wanted to go on to atone for his sins but sakura decided to selfishly chase after him? 🤔throughout the whole thing sasuke’s character was absolutely shat on. since when is he a blushing mess? since when does he come late at home to shag his wife that he supposedly hadn’t seen in 12 years? why does he suddenly tolerate and love sakura? it’s hilarious how much the novels and gaiden manga don’t make sense together. this awful characterization of sasuke makes me sad and hateful of what his character was turned into for SS fan-service.

Thanks for the ask, Anon!!!!

it was stated how sakura’s skin was glowing since sasuke’s return, indicating that sasuke and sakura were having s*x when he comes home late at night when sarada isn’t aware.

This!!!!!

This is not the first time I am hearing this. I heard that, in the novels, since Sakura's skin was glowing, according to Japanese Tradition, it indicates that the woman was having an active and healthy Smex life.

Well what can I expect from a thirsty and horny fandom who once enraged about Sasuke had smex with her with just One Arm!!!!! They were so worried that he couldn’t have done IT properly... PUKE!!!!

Seriously??? What can we expect from them other than horniness just like their kween???

They didn't care about Sarada at all... Instead they were so pissed about Salad throwing tantrum and questioning their 'Relationship' when Gaiden was released... For them, every thing revolves around Smex, Smex, Smex....

They were not worried about any other problems that were addressed in the Gaiden Manga, such as Sasuke not making any contact with them for a decade, having given birth in a Orochimaru lair, no wedding photo, no Birth certificate for Sarada... But they quickly went into Horny Mode when Sasuke called her 'My Wife' and then this panel....

"Kyaaah!!!! Sasuke-kun checks on Sakura..... He was so in love with her.... They were going to have some steamy smex tonight!!!!" ... This was how they reacted, as I heard....

Somehow, whenever they share a panel or Sasuke cares about her, their fans always associate his gesture with smex.... That's how low their fandom was thirsting and craving for, even till this very day.

Why would he willingly choose to neglect spending time with sarada to have s*x with sakura late at night? like honestly and it’s funny because the majority of these novels who depict sasuke in this manner are written by DIFFERENT AUTHORS! that says enough for me.

Like I said earlier, they are one of the horniest fandom in Narutoverse and the piss poor Authors are catering to their needs by writing Sasuke into an OOC mess who fell in love with those green emerald eyes.... Who couldn't tolerate seeing a small wrinkle in her face.... Without Sakura, he wouldn't know how to survive in this world and she is the most important person in this world.... EWWW.... I can't even write this without making a disgusting face.

And I don't even know what will happen if that Sasuke Retsuden will be adopted into the anime..... Anyways, I am just going to wait for that abominated mess to happen...

have you seen the SP’s illustrations of sasusaku’s relationships in the blank period? you know, the journey that sasuke wanted to go on to atone for his sins but sakura decided to selfishly chase after him? 🤔throughout the whole thing sasuke’s character was absolutely shat on. since when is he a blushing mess?

Actually it was a Doujinshi published by the Boruto Animator, Sekibeing, I guess. I don't think those panels belong to SP.

But still, those ungrateful SS fans harassed that Animator guy because he drew a fanart of NH and this spurred SS blokes who went to his Twitter handle and called him out with unpleasant words...

And yes, I watched those Illustrations and all I felt was I need to bleach my eyes so badly...

Sakura was seen leaning on him, covered with Sasuke's robe and his Susanoo armour!!! Pfft.... Really??? Atleast I could envision Naruto doing something like this for Hinata. But Sasuke????

And the problem is, they completely believe that this is what happened during the Blank Period. I have seen an SS shipper coming into our tags and lecturing us that, 'You people don't understand Sasuke, he has a softer side that he only shows towards Sakura. A special smile that he only projects towards Sakura'...

When I asked that person, 'Well, I've never seen Sasuke did anything as you mentioned in the Manga, Where's the proof?'.... That poster just bailed off....

it’s hilarious how much the novels and gaiden manga don’t make sense together. this awful characterization of sasuke makes me sad and hateful of what his character was turned into for SS fan-service.

I think we shouldn't worry too much about that stupid novels where Sasuke was portrayed as an horny man who wants to be with Sakura always... Because it doesn't match up with how he was portrayed in the Boruto Manga.

In the Manga, Sasuke was portrayed as someone who wanders alone and does his job on his own accord without any trappings of a Family. I think it's just these fillers pay more attention to this Domestic Drama which feels like a Total cringefest.

Logically, they could never adapt those novels. Because if you have a version of Sasuke who behaves in a certain way in Canon Episodes.... and if you make him do something OOC in fillers, that character will lose its credibility and people lose their interest altogether. And that shitty Anime was still running on the shoulders of Naruto and Sasuke’s popularity. If you make them go horny for their wives, 12 year old kids who are watching this drama would feel , “Ewww.... Instead of showing us how Boruto romancing Sarada, why the fuck they are showing some old peeps kissing each other??”

In my opinion, let them dream about their Gospel as much as they want. As long as the Anime Team don’t adapt those craps, I can begrudgingly digest this series!!!!!

#anti sakura #antisakura #sasuke

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five-rivers · 3 years ago

Text

Danger First

Chapter 6

@pocketramblr another :)

Shouta trudged back to the staff break room. His counseling session with Midoriya had lasted a little over an hour, so while there were still teachers in the building, many of them had left. With the exception of semi-retired heroes like Recovery Girl, everyone working here had two full time jobs. Hizashi, despite his carefree air, had even more than that in the form of his radio show. Hizashi had probably left with the students.

But Hizashi wasn't either of the ones he wanted to talk to. Not today.

He opened the door. Three, no, four teachers were there, but Snipe didn't count, seeing as he was completely passed out on one of the couches with his gas mask half off. He must have had an early shift patrol today, poor sucker.

Nemuri was there, too, with most of her hero outfit on. She was applying her hero-grade makeup (water proof, resistant to three common contact poisons, and guaranteed not to react badly with mace).

More importantly, Kan and Yagi were both there, poring over papers on the same desk, no less. Shouta walked up to the table and looked down at sheets and sheets full of incomprehensible numbers.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We-"

'Don't tell him!" said Kan, urgently. "This is going to be my class's leg up on Aizawa this time around."

"Haha! Good one!" Yagi slapped Kan's back, and apparently even in his skeletal form he could pack a punch, because Kan had the air knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Yagi continued, "I'm making personalized nutrition plans for his class!"

"What?"

"One of my undergraduate degrees was in nutritional and health sciences, after all!"

Wow, there was a lot to unpack there, but Shouta was more than happy to leave it in its box. He had other fish to fry and topics to interrogate. Small talk requirement fulfilled, he moved on.

"How well do you know Midoriya?"

Yagi blinked and put down his pencil. "Moderately so? We met about this time last year and have been meeting regularly since then."

So, so much to unpack.

"Why?"

"Ah, he... impressed me, I suppose? He was involved in the bodysnatcher incident last year."

That was an understatement.

"He had a lot of heroic spirit!" continued Yagi. "But... not so much in the, ah, body category. I thought it would be a shame, a waste, really, if he wasn't able to pursue his dream, and a hero school prep course wasn't really in the cards for him, considering his quirk status and the timing... And I did have this degree..." He waved his hands vaguely at the table. "I just gave him a little help."

"What brought all this on, anyway?" asked Nemuri. "Midoriya is the little green haired kid, right? One of Chibiida's new friends?"

"If you keep calling him that, I won't be held responsible for when he snaps and attempts murder. But, yes, that's Midoriya."

"So...?"

"He told me I was the best teacher he'd ever had."

Nemuri started laughing.

"Oh," said Yagi. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along so well."

"I think he's pulling your leg, Shouta," said Nemuri, coming over to pat him on his shoulder. "Man, I didn't think a friend of Chibiida's would have it in him. Such youth!"

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much he wasn't."

Nemuri's laughter died off.

"Judging from some comments he made today," said Shouta, "not to mention the discrepancies between his record and his observed behavior in the classroom, I'd say he's been the target of severe quirkism in the past, particularly from his teachers. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?"

Yagi's face darkened and the mood in the room grew much more somber. "Not in so many words, no. However... some of his comments about his teachers disturbed me enough to bring it to the attention of the Musutafu Educational Services District, but as an unrelated stranger without concrete proof..."

("You can use the acronym, you know," muttered Vlad.)

"You're telling me they ignored the number one hero."

Yagi made a face. "I didn't go to them as All Might. Can you imagine the media frenzy if I did that? I didn't want to paint that kind of target on young Midoriya's back."

That was fair, actually. If largely-anonymous Shouta had enemies, All Might had ten times as many. Not to mention supposed fans.

"Other avenues of inquiry were also fruitless," said All Might, countenance darkening. "I asked some of my police colleagues, but they don't have full discretion over the direction of their investigations, and, again, if I were to use my weight to move them... It would get out, and people would wonder why I was so concerned with an apparently normal middle school."

"Did you try talking to Nezu about it?"

"No? Why?"

Shouta reminded himself that although Yagi was an alumnus, he was also very new as a teacher, and was as of yet unfamiliar with Nezu's more interesting traits.

"I'm going to," said Shouta, "and you're going to come with me." He turned to Kan. "Have you heard anything from Bakugo about quirk discrimination?"

"All I've heard from him are explosions, threats, and some kind of complex I don't have nearly enough psychiatric training to- They're from the same school," he realized.

"Yeah."

Kan pinched his brow. "So, the sweet shy kid you keep gushing about-" Both Shouta and Yagi attempted to reassure Kan they weren't gushing, "-and the demon brat are from the same school."

"That is what their records say," agreed Shouta. "Did you know, Yagi?"

"Oh, that they knew each other? Yes. Actually, I was rather under the impression they were childhood friends, as Midoriya ran out to help him during the bodysnatcher incident."

Shouta grunted. It was possible. He hadn't seen the two of them interact, at any rate.

"I'm going to Nezu with you," said Kan, standing up. "No matter what else this hell school did, they deserve to suffer for inflicting Bakugo Katsuki on me with those recommendations full of lies."

"Why don't you just expell him if he's that bad?"

"Because he's talented, hardworking, and hasn't actually broken any rules except for the swearing. He's just a pain I wasn't prepared to deal with and will probably contribute more to my hearing loss than Yamada by the end of the year."

"Wait, wait," said Yagi. "What exactly are you expecting Nezu to do in this situation?"

"Well," said Nemuri, who still hadn't left yet, "let's just say there's a reason hid name is 'god' in the staff group chat."

Terrible did not even begin to describe how Izuku felt when he woke up. His skin was static. His mouth was dry in a way that hurt. It felt like a siren was going off in his brain, and also like it was too quiet. He wanted to both run all the way to the school and hide in his closet.

This, of course, left him paralyzed in bed.

He hadn't felt remotely like this since the first time someone had left spider lilies on his desk at school. What was wrong with him?

No, that was the wrong question. All signs pointed to him having Danger Sense. He was in danger. And also immobile in bed.

With a great deal of effort, he turned to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. The clock in the corner read 4:42. Far too early to call anyone. And yet...

With shaky fingers, he navigated to Mr. Yagi's contact information and pressed dial. To Izuku's surprise, it only rang once.

"Young Midoriya? Is something wrong?"

The sound of his voice loosened the terrible knot under Izuku's breastbone. "I- May-maybe? I don't- I don't know, I think so."

There were sounds of movement on the other side of the line. "What happened?"

"I just- just woke up, and I- I think it's Danger Sense. It- Something bad is going to happen."

"I'm on my way. Is your mother with you?"

"N-no. She's at a- at a tech conference in Tokyo. She won't be back until- until tomorrow. Mr. Yagi, I don't- I don't think it's something here. I think it's later... at the school."

There was a pause. "My boy, are you quite sure?"

Izuku's laugh was just a little hysterical. "I mean, I'm- I'm pretty new to this, but..." he'd like to think his flight or fight reflex would have a more constructive response to am immediate threat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you up, I should have waited-"

"Nonsense! Forewarned is forearmed, and time is one of the most valuable resources a hero can have! I'm still picking you up, I'll just-" Mr. Yagi coughed, "-take the car instead."

"The car? You mean Hercules!?" The excitement was enough to free Izuku from his paralysis and propel him into a sitting position.

"Well, yes, but, my boy, how did you know? I don't think I've ever mentioned the name in my interviews..."

"But you did! In one of your American interviews. It was for a local station and you and Mr. Shield were on together."

"But those were in English."

"I know! When I found out about them, it really motivated me to work on my English! I think I could probably pass the Level Two fluency test..."

"Young Midoriya, have I ever told you how glad I am that you aren't a villain?"

"Hikage, did Danger Sense ever make you feel this bad?" asked Nana as Yoichi fussed in the background.

"Super Anxiety made me feel this bad all the time. Sometimes, it made me feel worse. I got used to it."

Nana let out a sigh of relief. It sucked to Ninth right now, but if it was normal for the quirk...

"That's good, then," said En. "Not for Ninth, obviously, but if that's just how the quirk works, he'll be able to figure it out. What did it usually mean, when you felt like this?"

"Generally, that someone was planning on killing me in the next few hours."

Dead(er than usual) silence.

"Ah," said En.

"You know," said Nana, "sometimes the kinds of lives we led slips my mind, but then the universe is always real happy to turn around and slap it back into me."

Yoichi started screeching.

"Do you feel any worse now that we're here?" asked Mr. Yagi after shutting Hercules down.

"Not really," said Izuku. He slumped down in his seat and looked away. "I'm sorry, I dragged you out of bed and this is probably just a stupid pointless meaningless panic attack..." He felt tears begin to prick at the edges of his eyes. He was so stupid. And selfish. All Might could be out helping people right now. Or taking care of himself (which, according to Recovery Girl's comments during their training sessions, he didn't do nearly enough of).

"Hey, hey, there's no need to cry, it's alright."

"Because you're here?" asked Izuku with a sniffle.

"Well, yes, but also, even if it was 'just' a panic attack, I'd still want to be here for you." He reached across the central console to pat Izuku on the shoulder. Then his face twisted into something rather sheepish. "But on the subject of panic attacks, something did occur to me on the way here."

Izuku looked back down at his knees. "What is it?"

"This is the anniversary of the day we met."

Izuku... had known that, actually. Waking up as he had had driven it from his mind, but the date was marked on his calendar. He'd even gotten All Might a gift, although he hadn't yet talked himself into being brave enough to give it to him, and with what happened today, it would most likely languish in his desk drawer for an indefinite period of time as the idea of giving it became progressively more awkward.

"My boy? I can't quite make out what you're saying. You're mumbling."

Izuku clapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. I'm just an old man with hearing problems."

"You're not old! It's... I just- I just don't see how- how that's connected to this." He gestured at himself in all his vaguely-trembling glory.

"Young Midoriya... you almost died three separate times that day. That's traumatic. And sometimes anniversaries are... reminders."

"I only almost died once?"

"The first time with the sludge villain, grabbing on to my leg- and I don't think I ever apologized for telling you to let go, I was just so surprised- and then the sludge villain again."

"But I only almost died the first time..." He trailed off as Mr. Yagi gave him a look. He'd thought his mother was the only one who could give looks like that... "Do you really think this is connected to that?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Yagi. "Do you feel like it might be?"

"I don't know," said Izuku. He bent over and knotted his fingers in his hair.

"Do you think it might help to stay home today?"

"No!" yelped Izuku. "No," he repeated, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Alright, alright. Never fear, my boy." Mr. Yagi gave him another steadying shoulder pat. "In that case, let's go into this with the assumption that this is danger sense, and it is attempting to warn you of a real threat."

"Okay," said Izuku. He rubbed at his eyes. "What do we do first?"

Mr. Yagi tensed and looked up at the top floors of UA. "Well..."

"Hm!" said Nezu. "That is something of a conundrum! The extent of your quirk is unclear, and it is not properly registered, so we cannot go through the official routes we normally would for a warning given through a precognitive or clairvoyant quirk, even given that we are aware of One for All and the probable nature of Danger Sense."

Nezu knowing about One for All had been a bit of a surprise. In retrospect, maybe it shouldn't have been. All Might would have had to tell Nezu something so that Izuku was allowed on campus before he was really a student, and seeing as how All Might was originally teaching here to find a successor... well, it made sense. Izuku just wished he'd been told.

How many other people knew was a question for later, however.

"Your inexperience with the quirk and other circumstances further complicates the matter."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"Whatever for? It isn't your fault." Nezu did not wait for an answer. "Then there is yesterday's incident to consider... You say you felt something with the reporters?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Hm. Yes. Toshinori, I so believe you have a contact who could clear this up much more efficiently."

"I know," said Mr. Yagi. "He isn't picking up his phone."

"You don't think-?" started Izuku.

"No, no, he just hasn't been speaking to me lately."

"Oh? I was under the impression you had been communicating with him regularly since returning to Musutafu."

"He thought I would change my mind about something I didn't change my mind about, apparently. It doesn't matter. What else can we do?"

"A good number of things, luckily. Midoriya, I am going to make a series of phone calls. I would like you to tell me if the sensation you are experiencing changes at all while I make them."

"Yes, sir."

Nezu began methodically going through Izuku's list of teachers, warning them that something 'like yesterday' might happened and going over lesson plans and safety procedures. Nothing really changed. Until Nezu called Thirteen.

(Oh, gosh, they were going to go to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint on a field trip today? That was so cool!)

But after Nezu talked to Thirteen about checking safety systems, a little bit of the tension he'd been holding onto leaked away.

"Interesting," said Nezu. "Perhaps we should reschedule rescue training until-"

Izuku dove for Nezu's garbage bin.

"-or perhaps not," mused Nezu as Izuku expelled the meager contents of his stomach.

It was a good thing he hadn't eaten breakfast.

"Hikage," said Banjo. "I'm sorry for calling you a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard with a warped sense of humor if this is what you had to put up with all the time."

"You called me a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard?"

"Not to your face, but yes."

"Well. It isn't as if those things aren't all true..."

"I'm okay," said Izuku. "That just... felt bad."

"No cancelations in that case," said Nezu as Mr. Yagi hovered.

"Y-yeah. Oh gosh, now I know how Uraraka feels..."

"Perhaps you should stay home-"

"No! I can't! That would be..."

Nezu held up his hands- paws? "It was merely a suggestion. Can I offer you some tea?"

"Yes, please," said Izuku, voice catching uncomfortably on his raw throat.

"I do have a few more calls to make. Do you feel up to staying, or would you prefer to head down to Recovery Girl? Or perhaps even the cafeteria? I imagine you haven't eaten breakfast."

"I'd like to stay."

"Very well." Nezu picked up his phone again. Izuku could just make out the click on the other end when it was picked up. "Am I a mouse? A dog? A bear? One thing's for sure! I'm the principal!" There was laughter on the other end of the line. "No, not at all! I am in fact calling for you, Tensei. Or should I say, Ingenium? I'm aware this is last minute, and you were planning on taking the day off- How do I know? It was quite simple, really- but between the break-in yesterday and a tip I received this morning regarding a threat to the school, I would like a few more hands on deck than usual. Why, yes, you can stay with your brother's class. Do try not to tease Shouta too much. He has a reputation to maintain." After a few more pleasantries, Nezu hung up. "Midoriya?"

"I... think that's better? I'm sorry, it's hard to tell what could be the quirk and what's just me feeling bad."

Nezu nodded. "In that case, I do recommend that you head to Recovery Girl's office. My other calls will be similar, and the other heroes will not be with your class."

"Why not?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Because Midoriya's reaction to the field trip being canceled suggests that the danger may not be limited to himself or his class. Oh! And one more thing. Midoriya, I noticed that you put in some costume alteration requests. Naturally, most of them will not be finished until some time next week, however, some of the support items you mentioned are fairly common. If you have time before the field trip, you should pay a visit to Power Loader."

Izuku hadn't expected it, but he did feel much better after eating, despite his continuing sense of impending doom. It was also about half an hour from the beginning of homeroom, so he had the time to go to the support department and check if they had anything he could take.

He hoped they had grappling hooks. Izuku had always wanted a grappling hook.

Mr. Yagi took him most of the way there, but students had started to arrive at this point, and Izuku convinced him to go prepare for classes (and hide in the staff area so that no one would wonder why he, a skeleton man not recognizable as a hero, was at the school). Before too long, Izuku stood in front of a rather sturdy-looking metal door. He hoped this was the right one.

He raised his hand to knock just as something crashed into him. Ah. This was it for sure. The way he would die. The danger he had foreseen.

No. Wait. Never mind. He was fine, just on the ground.

"Oh! There was a person there! You okay?"

"U-um," said Izuku, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I'm fine, just a little startled."

"What're you doing here, anyway?"

"I- I'm here for... support... gear?" He sort of trailed off as he looked up.

It was the intense pink haired girl from the other day. As he watched, her expression changed from one of mild concern to calculating interest.

"Support gear, you say?"

Shouta answered his phone as he walked down the hall. "Nezu, I've already done every security check I can think of that'll fit-"

"Not quite why I was calling, although I can see why you would think so. One of your students needs to be rescued from the support department."

Shouta changed direction without missing a beat. "It's Midoriya, isn't it?"

"Why, yes."

"Did you send him down there without warning him?"

"Yes, again. You know me so well!"

Shouta hung up.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first au #danger first #fic #fanfic

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datawyrms · 3 years ago

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Ectober Day 4 Glitter

“Just stay here, watch him, and I’ll get my books.” Sam had done her best impression of a drill sergeant before ditching him and the now-corporal demon in the park. She’d been going on about making some sort of binding or ward to better leash the demon- but Phantom hadn’t reacted much. He seemed far more interested in the town during the walk over.

Okay. Maybe Phantom was a little scary after all. Sam was making it seem way worse than it first seemed, ignoring the fact the obnoxious bully was perfectly fine after they’d stumbled away. Dash deserved to get a little scared out of his mind, he did way worse all the time and didn’t even have the ‘I’m a mythical creature that eats souls’ excuse Phantom did.

Maybe they just had to give the demon something to do? The eraser kept him pretty occupied before, didn’t it? It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

“Hey, not sure if you noticed but you kinda stand out.”

The white haired boy looked up from his kneeling position on the grass, eerie green eyes dispelling any notion that he was just some kid playing in the dirt. “Hm? I don’t have too many eyes, do I?”

Did he normally have too many? “Nah, it’s more the whole hair and eyes thing. And your outfit is more ‘I’m going to rob a bank or do ballet’ than ‘teenager’, dude.”

“Doesn’t Sam like black?” Phantom pulled at the strange black clothing that seemed more attached to him than it should be. It was like someone figured out how to make black leggings have cuffs at the bottom, or someone who didn’t quite get that pants didn’t need to be skin tight. “Figured you’d be fine with it.”

“Well I can’t show you stuff if you look so inhuman, you know?”

That perked the demon up, no longer picking at his sleeves. “Wait, you actually want to do something now? Like what?”

Sam would absolutely murder him if he tried taking Phantom somewhere with more people to torment. But he was their demon, right? So their houses were basically demon infested already? “I could show you a whole world in a computer.”

“You have worlds in those tiny boxes?” Phantom was wide eyed, a hint of a smokey tail wagging at the concept. “Okay, so if I can look a bit less like me, we can see that?”

Maybe Phantom was more of a dog than a cat? He sounded pretty excited for something so...normal. “Yup.”

“Well you guys have black hair so…” the demon shook his head, black dripping down his white hair until not a strand of it remained. “What’s wrong with my eyes? I thought green was a human colour.”

“Not when it’s glowing, dude.”

Phantom frowned, blinking away the glow to leave a more boring blue. “That good enough?”

“As long as you don’t do those freaky grins with all the fangs, yeah.” It was a little unnerving how normal Phantom looked with just a few changes, “Your outfit is still kinda weird.”

“What, you want me to throw some glitter and change that too? Sheesh.” The boy grumbled, but his black attire rippled and changed, leaving a far more ‘normal’ ensemble of t-shirt and jeans behind. “Lots of people wore stuff like this, right?”

Tucker nodded, wondering if he should fire off a text to tell Sam where they were. He had a feeling Phantom wouldn’t go back to chasing crickets and worms in the grass now that he’d brought up something more exciting. It wasn’t like they’d hurt anyone, and it would keep him busy, right?

#Danny Phantom #ectoberhaunt 2021 #glitter #Tucker Foley #a very short one today #aaaa #tucker being i can TOTALLY do this #and of course sam will not appreciate it

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amarits · 4 years ago

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Chirp Extra - Bruce POV from Chapter 32

Way back when I was writing Chapter 32, I hit a stumbling block on the part where Jason overhears Bruce and Tim arguing. He only needed to hear a few lines from the argument, but for some reason I was having the hardest time making those lines sound natural. So I did what any reasonable person would do, and I wrote an entire 1,100 word scene that I knew would never be in the story, just to make a few lines sound right. Not all of the dialogue lines up perfectly, since I made a few changes while writing it from Jason's perspective, but this gave me what I needed to get started.

Hope you enjoy some rare Bruce perspective!

—

The advantage of having money, Bruce thought, is that he didn’t have any trouble arranging for half a semester of tutoring at the last minute with no questions asked. It didn’t solve anything that really mattered. It didn’t make Jason better, or catch the Joker, who was still at large, but at least his son would get an education.

The grandfather clock behind him swung open, and he was on his feet in an instant, hand reaching for the secret compartment under his desk that held defensive weapons. Nothing bat themed, nothing that would out him as Batman up here in the manor, but enough to protect himself from an unexpected enemy.

Tim came out from the tunnel carrying a bulky bookbag. “Oh,” he said when he caught sight of Bruce, like he was surprised to see him here. That was fair, he supposed. He hadn’t spent much time away from Jason’s bed since he woke up.

Actually, he hadn’t seen Tim at all since Jason woke up. He was disappointed in himself to realize that he’d barely given the boy a thought for the last week.

Tim rallied quickly, dropping the bookbag onto the ground beside him and pulling out his phone.

“The Joker’s back,” he said, without even a greeting, facing the screen towards Bruce. The image showed a man in a glass cage with a crazed expression and outstretched lips, apparently mid-laugh. Joker toxin.

“Where did you get this?” he asked. He tried to take the phone, but Tim held tight. Bruce let him. Tim had a reason to be protective of his devices.

“I went back to the apartment we were surveilling, the one with Blue Shirt and Green Shirt.”

“You what?”

Tim stiffened, the way he always did when he knew he’d done something he shouldn’t but was going to argue it was for the best anyway. “I tried to film it from the outside first, but there weren’t any good angles,” he said, his words clipped and precise. “I went when I knew no one would be there and snuck in to leave some better cameras. And then I found this.” He flipped through the photos on his phone. Each showed a few seconds of movement before settling on the photo. Several more prisoners. A wide-screen of the whole room. “There were canisters of gas in the hallway closet, but I wasn’t able to get a picture.”

“Why not?”

Tim’s brief hesitation was enough for Bruce’s insides to turn to ice before he even heard the answer. “People showed up, so I had to get out.”

‘People.’ Tim didn’t specify, but there was no questioning who he meant, not with the way Tim’s eyes flicked guiltily to the side or how the hand not holding the phone pulled on his sweatshirt. He could have lost a second child to the Joker, and never even known it was happening. Not known until days later when his body showed up in the river. He needed to keep a better eye on Tim. Were his parents even in town right now? Would anyone report him missing if he didn’t come home?

“You shouldn’t have been there.” It came out harsher than he’d intended, and Tim reacted to the anger, stiffening further, his shoulders rising to his chin.

“Someone needed to look into it and you were busy. Isn’t it better that we know?”

“A little bit of information isn’t worth your life!” He didn’t understand how Tim couldn’t get that. How Tim valued his life so little. Flashes of Jason covered in blood filled his vision.

“I was careful.”

“Not careful enough. Never go out alone. Do you understand me?”

“I wasn’t—”

Whatever argument Tim had been about to make cut off. He stilled, his gaze falling on something past Bruce. He hadn’t heard anyone coming over the rush of blood in his ears. He turned to see Jason standing in the doorway, covered in blood.

No, the blood was in his memories. Jason was fine, wearing Robin pajamas that Dick had insisted on getting him while he was still in the coma. Said it would make him stronger. Bruce hadn’t had the heart to argue, even with the risk to their identities.

“Jason,” Tim breathed behind him. That’s right. Tim hadn’t seen Jason since he woke up. “How are you doing? Are you feeling better? You look—”

Jason wasn’t looking at Tim, his eyes boring into Bruce’s. “You replaced me?” he asked.

Bruce’s stomach fell out and Tim quieted behind him. “Of course not,” he said. He tried to unsee the blood that dripped down Jason’s skin, but it was as much a part of his psyche now as pearls scattered across an alley.

“Oh, so Tim’s not going out as Robin then?” Jason asked, sarcasm dripping heavily from every word. Guilt filled Bruce. He had never wanted another kid to put on the suit, to be in danger. He certainly hadn’t wanted to hurt Jason.

“I’m just filling in,” Tim said, his words blending together like he was trying to get as many out at once as he could. “We needed—”

“I’m not talking to you,” Jason spat at him.

There was a long silence behind him, but he didn’t turn to look, unable to tear his eyes away from Jason. “Fine,” Tim said, the anger of a few moments before back. He stalked past Bruce towards the door, his bookbag back over his shoulder. “I’ll send the information I gathered to the Batcomputer,” he said as he shouldered past

“Wait, Tim,” another voice said. Dick. Bruce hadn’t even realized he was there, and as soon as Bruce noticed him he was gone, chasing after Tim. Bruce knew he should do more, that Tim needed him too, but he couldn’t focus on that, not with Jason right in front of him, with the memories of blood still staining his face.

“I didn’t replace you, Jason. I would never replace you.” He felt vulnerable, cut open and left for vultures to eat in a hot desert sun.

“Yeah, well, that’s not what it looks like from here.” Jason twirled on his toes to go and stumbled. Bruce stepped forward to catch him, but Jason was already stalking off. His steps were unsteady, but Dick rushed by soon after and caught up to him. Dick would make sure he made it back to his room.

Bruce knew he should follow, should explain, but he’d have to leave that to Dick too. The Joker was back, and if his children were going to be safe, he needed to find out his plan and put a stop to it as soon as possible.

#tim drake #bruce wayne #jason todd #batfam #batfic #mywriting #chirp #chirp extra

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rason-rodd · 4 years ago

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Snowmen and Assassins - Older!Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: This is Y/N’s first Christmas among the League of Assassins but a monastery of deadly assassins is maybe not the right place to celebrate this winter tradition.

Author’s note: Bat-Christmas Day 12 ;-) Damian in this story is highly inspired by Batman beyond! Damian as he took his grandfather’s place as leader of the League of Assassins. And I will fight anyone who doesn’t believe Adult Damian will be the most devoted boyfriend to ever exist. (#assassinprincecharming)

Tagged: 100% Fluff

Sitting at the candlelit desk that used to belong to his grandfather, working on a personal project that could not wait, Damian Wayne could hear the unclear yet outraged groans and growls of his counsellor – whose name was Zeh-Ro - echoing outside of the door. He was clearly angry but it was nothing new or surprising. Lately, and especially since Damian’s reconciliation with his father and your arrival in the Himalayan monastery, the old white-haired man had taken the rude habit to question Damian’s every decision as leader of the League of Assassin in ways that were highly inappropriate for a man of his status. Of course this misplaced attitude was never welcomed or tolerated by the young leader, and each tantrums had all encountered either a stone-cold stoicism or a burning rage. A type of reaction Damian had inherited from his father, Bruce. “This is highly unacceptable!” Damian sighed, fully aware that his bodyguard, Koru, would not be able to prevent Zeh-Ro from entering his private quarters any longer. “Let me see him!” The heavy wooden door suddenly burst open, making all the soft dancing flames shudder, almost in panic, as if they were aware of the incoming wrath. “What is wrong, Zeh-Ro?” “This woman … This woman is a disgrace! How dares she?!” The red of his angry face was clashing with the whiteness of his dishevelled hair, a scarlet colour only Y/N and her light-hearted shenanigans could give him. “I’m sure whatever Y/N did it is not that terrible.” Damian declared with a discreet amused smirk. “Not that terrible? Not that terrible?” The old man repeated almost out of breath. “That woman has a knack of bringing shame to herself … and to ourselves … and to our cause. To you. She is a foreign child who knows nothing of our culture, nothing of our traditions. I said it before and I say it again. Her place is not here!” Damian put what he was doing in the drawer of his desk that he slammed almost violently and stood up. But not even his menacing eyes or his towering stature seemed to frighten Zeh-Ro who kept mumbling his anger at him. “Your grandfather would have never approved of her! The league does not approve of her! This silly infatuation needs to end and it needs to end now!” “No.” Zeh-ro eyes widened suddenly. He had expected more that a single word. He had expected more consideration, even more anger. “No?” Damian didn’t bother to repeat and smoothly close the gap between him and his counsellor in an attempt to establish his undeniable authority on him. “And from now on I would not tolerate you interfere in my privacy. My love life is none of your concern Zeh-ro, nor is Y/N.” “But she…” Damian cut him short, tired of hearing and seeing the man. “I will hear no more. Now leave.” Fortunately, he beat a retreat and exited the room while muttering insults in Arabic that Damian chose to ignore. He had other matters to take care of. Only when the man finally was out of sight, did the leader of the league choose to relax and lose his aggressive austerity. “Will he ever learn?” He asked Koru who almost allowed himself to smile. “I’m afraid not, master.” Damian sighed again and put on his long green kimono that he carelessly knotted around his strong waist. “What has Y/N done again?” “ I believe it is better for you to see it, master.”

***

In spite of the cashmere gloves you were wearing, your hands were red and freezing just as your cheeks and the tip of your nose. Unsurprising since you had been spending the afternoon playing in the snow with the few children of the league who had been bold enough to follow you in your shenanigans. Not that it had been your goal all along. In fact, you had never thought about asking anyone to follow you in your “Not so top-secret Christmas mission ” as you had named it when the little rascals had found you baking Christmas cookies in the kitchen this morning and curiously asked what you were up to. Before that, you had just planned to bake for your lover and decorate a Christmas tree in your shared quarters, away from prying eyes, perfectly aware of the fuss your silly little actions would cause if anyone caught you trying to celebrate Christmas. But then, the children had simply said, “We’ve never celebrated Christmas.” with their little eyes shining with sadness.

And so here you were. Building snowmen right under the noses of mighty assassins glaring at you as if you were committing the most awful crime in the world. Their reactions had hurt you at first, just as many other things they had done – or hadn’t done- since your arrival in the monastery in spite of all your relentless attempts at fitting in. But then you had realised that they should not matter and that you should focus only on the magic, on the happiness of the children by your side occasionally fighting with snowballs and acting - maybe for the first time of their life - as who they truly were, kids.

“Beloved?” You slightly jumped and dropped the small little stone carefully chosen to be the left eye of your snowman on the ground. “Damian.” You didn’t know how to react. Usually, Damian was always there to defend you, finding excuses to all the times your attitude wasn’t appreciated or approved by the league. But there was a difference between forgetting to remove your shoes at the entrance of Ra’s Al Ghul’s temple and celebrating an occidental tradition in a monastery of assassins. Maybe had you gone too far this time. “What are you doing?” “Look… I know this looks bad. But it’s my first winter here, my first Christmas away from my family and I thought …” “That you could celebrate it here.” He looked so serious you couldn’t tell if he was mad at you or if he simply was tired of you not being “the right paramour” for him – a term Damian’s counsellor had spit to your face quite a few times. “I get that I might have gone too far this time. I can stop if that’s what you want.”

Damian knelt to pick the little black stone you had dropped and suddenly, much to your surprise and to those around you, placed it on your snowman’s face. “By all means, continue.” And with a gentle timid smile, he turned around to where he came from. You blinked quite a couple of times; unable to believe what you had just seen or to demonstrate all the happiness this small action had given you. But then you gasped as a huge snowball hit Damian right in the back of his head. “God damn …” He cursed more out of surprise than out of pain and turned back around with a glare you had never seen. Your eyes widened and you looked at the terrorised children who were all pointing at the culprit. Guess boldness and courage had their limits. “How dare you throw a snowball at the Demon’s Head? And behind his back?” He growled, definitely angry and the poor children looked down, petrified. “I guess someone has to teach you how to play fairly.”

And then a snowball hit your shoulder, making you scream loudly. “Ahhh” But then you saw that Damian was laughing like you had never heard him laugh before. And goodness, how contagious it was. “You’re going to pay for this!” You harrumphed trying to remove the snow from inside your coat. “Choose your partners, kids. This battle is to death.”

***

“I let you win.” Damian declared as he removed his thick leather boots once in your quarters. “Plus you had better partners. Mine were all incompetent. I scored all the points myself.” “Of course, Dami. Of Course.” You smiled and removed your wool coat to place it by the fireplace where you chose to stay a little to enjoy its welcome warmth after this cold afternoon outside. “You know. You’re starting to show, beloved.” Damian said as he approached you to lovingly hug you from behind and kiss your neck, his strong hands on your slightly round belly that were keep a four-months little secret no one knew about yet. “Yeah. We won’t be able to keep hiding it for too long.” You put your hands on Damian’s, adoring his sudden proximity and his devotion to you and to your little one growing inside of you. “I guess that’s gonna make some people boil over.” “Who cares?” He kissed your temple and let his soft lips remain on your skin just to smell its perfume. You let go in his embrace, wondering how this loving man could be the leader of such a deadly organisation. Speaking of deadly organisation … “By the way, thank you for this afternoon, for defending me again. I know it often undermines you especially in Zeh-Ro’s eyes.” You heard Damian sigh and tense a little before turning you around to face him. “Beloved, when will you realise I do not care about what Zeh-Ro thinks, about what anyone thinks? I’m happy to defend you. At least it shows them that I am not my grandfather and that they can’t expect me to be him.” “ But …” You tried to protest and he gestured you to be quiet with a finger on your lips. “No buts. I love all the things you do here. I love all the love you bring to this place, to me. And I want out child to experience it. I don’t want him to live the joyless loveless childhood I lived.” You smiled at his words but your eyes reflected the sadness he had in his. You knew about his past, about Talia and Ra’s and all the things they made him go through, the exhausting relentless and abusive trainings and the heavy burden they had placed on his young shoulders when he was just a little boy. And so you cupped his cheek and softly kissed him in on tiptoe, keeping his broad body against yours that seemed so tiny and fragile in comparison to his. Though, the most fragile person in this room right now was him. “I have something for you, beloved.” Damian said as he slowly let go of you for a moment to take something he had left in his desk. “I hope you’ll like it.”

You slightly shook the box he had just given you, curious to know what’s inside. “You know it’s not Christmas yet.” “I know. It’s not really a Christmas gift” You narrowed your eyes trying to read in his what he was hiding from you. “Just open it.” He chuckled and you grinned, your hands already tearing the wrapping up. It was a wooden small box. “You’re not asking me to marry you, are you?” You asked cheekily and Damian laughed. “Not yet.” He smirked but you chose to ignore it for now, too excited to know what was in the box.

It was a beautiful Christmas tree star, certainly made of crystal judging by how fragile and translucent it looked, and definitely very ancient. “Damian, it’s beautiful.” “You like it?” “I love it!” You corrected as you delicately touched it with your fingertips. “Good. Cause there’s a Christmas tree in the main hall that is waiting for it.” He looked at your eyes brighten instantly and as beautifully and brightly as the star you were holding, glad he could finally make you feel at home as much as you could make him feel at home. “Merry Christmas, beloved.” “Merry Christmas, Damian.” Merry Christmas, indeed.

#Damian Wayne #older! damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #older damian wayne x reader #one shot #bat-christmas

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honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, pegging, anal play, rimming, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, jk being a good good boy, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, bath sex, ageplay/DDlg, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, spanking, creampie, aftercare in both cases

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and jk’s ass

DAY EIGHTEEN

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

“Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? I don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to...?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the bed either in impatience or the effort it takes not to touch himself. Hyper-aware of the appendage that dangles in front of you, and how slippery your hands currently are, you imagine hunkering on the bed without using your hands probably isn’t a very sexy look, so instead you stand to the side of the mattress and instruct him to come to you.

He does so with obvious enthusiasm and anticipation. The earlier haze of his orgasm dissipating, his eyes are alert and his lips are stretched in an unconscious grin. Splayed out on his back, legs dangling on either side of your hips, Jungkook looks so content to hand over his dominance to you that your heart swells slightly at the sentiment of it.

Clearly Jungkook isn’t feeling as soft as you. On the contrary, his cock looks so hard it must be physically hurting him, the tip weeping precum onto his belly as he arches his back to entice you. “Please, Y/n,” he whines, hitching a foot up onto the edge of the mattress to bare himself more fully. “Gukkie needs it.”

Though it’s more your own hesitation rather than any desire to make him beg for it, you can’t deny that the sweet entreating voice is music to your ears and core, and pushing aside all worries you find yourself guiding his opposite leg up with a slippery hand, before lining your synthetic cock against Jungkook’s rim.

Immediately, before you even enter him, he keens, and although you can’t literally feel him rocking back towards it, you watch it catch on the muscle and begin to slip inside, and the resistance can be felt as a pressure against your pelvis where the base of the dildo is fastened.

“De-deeper,” Jungkook makes out with a gasp, his fingers reaching up to clutch at your wrist, and you push past the resistance to drive the dildo inside him, slowly but smoothly. His breath hitches, back lifting off the bed as his body tries to process the intrusion, and instinctively - a word you wouldn’t typically associate with domming - you grip onto his waist to hold him still.

Though your palms and fingers are still slick with lube, you manage to keep them steady on his skin by slightly digging your nails in. Jungkook’s mouth parts in a gulped moan, and you feel the pressure in front of your crotch suddenly increase as he stiffens.

“Green?” you check in quickly, so quick to fear the worst.

Jungkook is even quicker to dispel your worries. “Green, fuck, harder, please,” he babbles, shifting as much as he can under you to spread his legs wider in invitation.

You let out a breath of relief but pair it with a snapped thrust to mask it as exertion. Jungkook lets out a cry of pleasure that sounds more like a hiccup, his body rocking on the bed with the force of it.

It’s hard to tell how intense or rough your thrusts are when all you have is his response and the feeling of the leather base pressing against you to go off, so once you start to fuck him in earnest, you’re sure to pay close attention to him.

Not that you’d otherwise be apathetic by any means. Whether his beautiful reactions are a skill learnt from camming or he began camming because of his reactions, you don’t know, but you think watching him like this could never get old.

His hair’s splayed back on the pale grey duvet like a dark halo, red hot streaks highlighting just how long the strands have gotten. His eyes, when he manages to open them, glitter like constellations and plead like puppy eyes. Though he has the bone definition of a god, gravity works against the strong lines and puffs up his cheeks instead, making him look small and sweet.

With lips so pretty and swollen, he pouts and whines and pleads, teeth poking out to nibble at the pinked flesh when the dildo hits his prostate and he muffles a whine.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to find a rhythm. Though you’re certainly inexperienced in the art of fucking someone else, it’s really a very natural motion to make your hips rock up against him. Albeit tiring, you find yourself able to pick up the pace until he’s writhing under your hands, his own nails scratching at the meat of his thighs with the restraint it takes not to touch himself.

Taking mercy on the poor thing, you lift one knee up on the bed to give yourself sufficient momentum to drop one of your hands from pinning him down and wrap it instead around his cock, doing your best to time your strokes together.

Jungkook lets out a low keen and goes stiff, back in a violent arch. “Fu-uck,” he cries, and his face would almost look scrunched up in pain if you didn’t know better, the poor camboy overwhelmed by finally being touched there.

“Does that feel good, Gukkie? Am I fucking you good?”

He nods hastily, bottom lip trembling as your thrusts don’t let up for a second. “Suh-so good to Gukkie,” he confirms in a wobbly voice, “please fuck Gukkie harder!”

Quickly tiring, you don’t know if you even can, but you engage your core like it’s a workout and speed up your hips, the insistent rub of the leather over your pussy lips and clit actually beginning to tighten a coil of pleasure low in your belly.

“Yes,” Jungkook wails when he feels the dildo spearing him quicker and quicker. You use your thumb to press at his slit, dripping precum in obscene amounts as he sobs and bucks between your hand and your fake cock.

Once his thighs start to tremble violently and he can’t seem to take in a full breath, you know he’s close. Steeling yourself for the final lap, you ignore the rub of the leather and the pressure of the dildo base against your pelvis, and focus fully on Jungkook and bringing him to a second powerful orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I wanna see you cum again,” you request, punctuating it with a squeeze of his cock to make him cry out.

Such a polite boy, he composes himself enough to answer. “Baby’s so close,” he whines. “Gukkie can cum?”

You smile fondly even with gritted teeth from exertion, glad his eyes are scrunched shut with pleasure so he can’t see you melt for him. “Gukkie can cum, baby.”

You make good on your promise for him to feel so good he cries when he reaches that high shortly after receiving permission. Tears spilling over his cheeks, his moan comes out strangled but stuttered and airy at the same time, almost like he’s giggling at the feeling that overcomes him. Barely anything comes out of his cock, already milked from the first orgasm, but his body is wracked with sensation and his lips are stretched in a dopey grin, struggling to catch his breath.

If you were a meaner - or fitter - dom perhaps you’d fuck him past the point of oversensitivity, but as it is, you quite happily come to a stop buried deep inside him, lazily stroking his cock as it softens until he hisses at the contact.

Using the duvet to wipe away the last of the lube and cum off your hands, you lean forward and cup this cheeks to brush the tears away and press a kiss to the button of his nose.

He shivers happily, lashes fluttering, and lets out a hum. “Thank you for taking care of Gukkie,” he whispers, before wincing slightly and correcting- “taking care of me. Sorry, I tend to do that when I’m-”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reply easily, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, tasting the salt of his tears as he giggles again at the tickling feeling. “Did you enjoy it, baby?”

Jungkook lets out a breathless chuckle, chest still heaving. “Fuck, like you wouldn’t believe,” he jibes, throwing a hand over his eyes and heated cheeks when you pull away. “But really; thank you.”

You slip the dildo out of him carefully, hearing him make a low noise in his throat as his hole flutters, empty. Rubbing his thigh comfortingly with one hand - if you knew one thing from being on the show, it was that you needed to shower Jungkook in aftercare now - you unfasten the strap-on carefully with your other. “You don’t have to thank me. I had fun too.”

The crook of his elbow lifts just slightly to expose the glint of his eyes, disbelieving. “You did?”

You beam warmly. “Definitely. You’re so fun to play with, Gukkie,” you praise, “plus, I feel like getting a new perspective has been really enlightening, you know?”

“Ah,” he muses, “entertaining and educational. I’m glad my ass served you well.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of your throat; the quip a clear sign that Jungkook is returning from that hazy, contented plane of subspace you’ve grown used to. “Better put that on your CV.”

Jungkook sits up, affronted. Two fat drops of cum run down his stomach, quickly drying out once they spread over his skin. “My ass has been listed on my CV as a skill for years, Y/n, I’m not an amateur.”

“Oh, a professional ass man,” you tease, sighing at the release of pressure once the strap-on harness falls off your hips and to the ground, leaving your lower half bare. “Is that why you got on the show, huh?”

The camboy pouts. “I got on for many reasons,” he insists, “I’m very qualified, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you return immediately, and pause. “Fuck. We were meant to be bantering but I’ve just been complimenting you, haven’t I?”

He nods like it was intentional. “Yet another one of my skills.”

“You’re impossible,” you sigh, but even when he convinces you to join him in the shower, the conversation between you flows without a hitch, and your fondness for the boy only grows.

In retrospect, you probably could’ve worked out Namjoon’s prompt based on how he treats you that dinner.

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, but you’re so hungry from earlier that you barely notice the signs. It’s not uncommon for the guys to pile food on your plate, but Namjoon’s repeated insistence of feeding you directly perhaps should’ve been the first flag.

The way he fills your glass of water for you, ruffles your hair, continuously calls you little… Yeah, you blame Yoongi’s delicious fish cutlet and rice meal for not paying enough attention.

Luckily for you - or perhaps for him - an opening appears when you’re cleaning up the table with Taehyung and accidentally fumble a small dish of dipping sauce all over your hands and front.

Immediately, Namjoon as at your side, taking the ceramics out of your hand and tsking gently. “Oh, love, that’s no good,” he coos in a low timbre, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty.”

You could just offer to go rinse your hands off in the sink and change shirts, but you’re wired up from fucking Jungkook without your own release - the camboy was so chipper at dinner that everyone had surely cottoned on - and so a better idea comes to mind. “It’s running down my sleeve,” you offer with a faux pout, “I’ll probably need a shower to get it all off. Care to join me?”

Namjoon’s brows lift as he surreptitiously ensures no one else is in earshot. With a hand on the small of your back, he leans in and presses his lips against your ear. “How about Daddy gives you a bath, baby girl?”

You suck in a breath, nerves alighting. Oh. You can work with this. Straightening up, you latch onto his shirt sleeve near the cuff and soften your eyes. “Only if you take one with me,” you bargain, “I’m only little, Daddy.”

He pulls back quickly, and were it not for the hot flares of lust in his eyes, it would almost seem like he’d been shocked. “Go to your bedroom then, love,” he instructs, “and no running on the stairs.”

Of course you aren’t really an impulsive child but, as it is, his command is actually difficult to follow. The urge to clamber up them as fast as you can, knowing you’re finally going to get fucked good, is hard to suppress.

You manage, however, and soon enough Namjoon’s in the bathroom with you, filling the tub. As you wait, toes wiggling against the cool tile in excitement, he unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve.

“Okay, clothes off, kitten,” he instructs, hunkering over the edge of the tub to dip a hand in up to the forearm, checking the temperature and stirring up the water, “it’s just about ready.”

You obey, tossing your clothes in a growing pile in the corner. Though it’s no bubble bath, he has drizzled some body wash in to give it a comforting scent, floral and sleepy like ylang ylang. When he pulls his arm out, there’s a ring of suds, and spots of water have already gotten onto his shirt. “You’ve gotta hop in too, Daddy,” you point out, smirking when Namjoon visibly falters at the title.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he confirms, shucking off his shirt and pants, “get in first, kitten, it’s all ready.”

The water is divine, a blooming heat that seeps down to your bones, warming you to the core. You immediately see your skin start to pinken, but the water isn’t unbearably hot, and it’s a pleasant flush.

The heat below contrasts with the cool air on your upper back and shoulders, causing you to shiver, but before you can complain you feel the water level rise, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around you from behind.

As you let him lean you back against his chest, you feel his hardness, but neither of you feel the need to comment on it. This is a porn show, and you’re going to fuck soon, sure, but for now there’s nothing better than a hot bath.

“Give me your hand, let’s clean this sticky sauce up, huh?” It isn’t until Namjoon begins to soap up a loofah and delicately scrub away at the black trails of dipping sauce that have run down your arms that you realise just how fantastic this prompt is. If you played your cards right, Namjoon would take care of you and pamper you all evening, fuck you silly, and then presumably put you to bed like a good Daddy. Holding your hands out obediently, you’re quite content to oblige.

“Sit up, kitten,” the academic commands softly with a press to your shoulder. Once the skin of your arms is unmarred again, Namjoon dips the loofah in the chest-level water, pulls it out dripping suds and water, and laves it over your back, making you sigh at the warmth. “Feels nice, hm?”

Your lips stretch in a lazy smile as you recall asking that very question yourself just earlier today. As much as you had fun domming Jungkook, and wouldn’t be averse to switching things up - quite literally - again, there’s no denying that your soul really sings when you’re the one being taken care of, played with, and pleasured. “Really nice, Daddy.”

The loofah gets dipped again, this time sliding over your chest and stomach. Letting your eyes slip shut at the relaxing treatment, Namjoon’s low timbre washes over you just like the aromatic suds of body wash. “I’m glad,” he coos, “I like taking care of you. You’re too little to do it all yourself, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s help?”

“Too little,” you parrot sleepily, “need Daddy.” With every word, with every touch of his large hands on you, you truly begin to feel little. Curling your toes against the base of the tub, you make a low noise in your throat and lean back against his chest again, head lolling back over his shoulder. “Will you give me a kiss, Daddy?”

He smiles at your entreating plea and wide eyes, eyes like crescent moons as he dips his head and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “All better now?” he checks as he sits the sopping loofah on the side of the bath.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I’m not all clean yet, Daddy.”

“You aren’t?” he asks with mock surprise, dimple deepening and brows lifting. “Well, that’s no good, is my kitten still dirty somewhere?”

With a single decisive nod, you grab his hand and lead it down until the tips of his fingers brush your folds. “Daddy didn’t clean here, ‘s still dirty.”

You let out a blissful sigh when he cups you, middle finger curling up to barely dip inside you. Namjoon grins. “In here?” Rather than wait for your answer, he smoothly pushes it deeper, massaging at your inner walls. “Alright, kitten, just close your eyes and let Daddy finish cleaning you up.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes flutter shut again, head comfy in the crook of his neck and shoulder. You could get used to this.

He doesn’t tease you, but nor does he fingerfuck you with intensity or vigor. It’s methodical and diligent, like he really is cleaning you out. One finger quickly becomes two, and his other arm winds around your waist on the other side to roll your sensitive clit, making you moan softly.

Raring to go from unfulfilled pleasure that morning, your nerves go into overdrive, a building wave growing quickly in your belly. When Namjoon adds a third finger, crooking them inside you thoroughly to stroke your g-spot, it takes less than a minute for you to fall apart, thighs clenching tight around his hands.

He works you through it, only stopping when you whimper from oversensitivity, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering unhappily again when he pulls his fingers out and you’re left empty.

“You’re all clean now, kitten,” Namjoon states, running his palms over your inner thighs to relax them. “Time to get out.”

You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But Daddy!”

Narrowing his brows, you don’t miss the slight twitch of Namjoon’s lips at your sudden outburst. “No buts,” he reproaches, “I don’t want you pruning up.”

You huff, scowling when he deftly tugs out the plug and the water level steadily sinks. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, Da-mmf!”

Namjoon sends you a cutting glare, his strong hand cupped over your mouth. “I should wash your mouth out with soap for using that language, little one,” he warns, “now out of the bath.”

You whine behind his hand, but once he drops it you obey and scramble out of the quickly-draining tub. Your body feels heavier without the buoyancy of water, and you’re dripping onto the bathmat like a drowned rat, but Namjoon pays it no mind, getting out himself with powerful thighs and a heavy cock dangling between them, passing you a towel wordlessly.

You dry yourself off, pout never leaving your face. He’s really just gonna stay hard like that and not fuck you? “Daddy…”

“One more protest and I’m taking you over my knee,” Namjoon says with a sharp tone. “I thought my kitten was better behaved than this.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how you can get what you want without using vulgar words. Then again, perhaps making him punish you would rile him up enough to fuck you, and you certainly weren’t against some spanking. Sucking a breath in to establish some resolve, you stomp your foot on the bathmat. “You’re so mean, Daddy!”

Namjoon gapes at you, the way you’re bundled in a towel from your chin to your knees, scowling at him. “You want it, don’t you?” he mutters quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Relaxing for a moment, he slips easily back into that position of authority. “That’s it,” he spits, taking you firmly by the wrist and leading you - still naked himself - into your bedroom, “I gave you plenty of warnings but you still won’t listen.”

You squeak as he rips the towel from you and tugs you onto his lap on the edge of the bed. Adjusting you so that your crotch is right above his aching erection, his legs are so long that your toes barely brush on the carpet, all your balance resting on him. This had been the roughest he’d ever been with you, or at least the most domineering, and your mind whirls with how much he’s coming into his element with this prompt.

He gives you no warning before he’s laying his hands on your ass, small pats to warm up the skin before a sudden, stinging strike laces your nerves. You cry out, wriggling in his grip, but he uses one broad hand to link your wrists together in the small of your back, your face pressed onto the mattress as you’re held up fully by him.

He’s carefully merciless, spanking you hard enough that it burns, tears pricking your eyes and lip swollen from when you bite it, but whenever your cries of pain and pleasure turn too much to genuine discomfort, you notice he gives you an extra second of reprieve and swaps out to lighter hits.

“Apologise to Daddy,” he commands gruffly as you sob beneath him, swatting you without pause.

You sniff and swallow before you can compose yourself enough to reply in a wobbly cry, knees buckling and trembling. “Suh-sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry, I learnt my lesson, ple-ease!”

You could cry when you feel his hand land on you one last time, soft and soothing the stinging flesh. Namjoon shifts, and then you feel light kisses being pressed all the way from your reddened ass up your spine, making you shiver. “Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, and gently sits you up, lying you on the mattress.

You hiss when you feel the fabric scratch at your skin, but it’s cool and soothing if you stay still, so you take deep breaths and feel your heart slowly return to normal, Namjoon running his fingers over your now-dry body.

Blinking up at him with what you hope are sweet puppy-dog eyes, you call his name softly to bring his attention to your face. “Are you really not gonna, you know…?”

He grins fondly at your attempt to evade the word fuck, silver hair flopping over his brow as he leans over you. “You took your punishment so well kitten, I think you deserve a reward, hm? Some special time with Daddy?”

You light up, sucking on your lower lip as you spread your legs to bare yourself shamelessly, hooking one foot around his waist so he’s between them. “Extra special time with Daddy,” you insist in a small voice, lip curling now that you’re finally going to get what you want.

With a light laugh, Namjoon centres himself so that he’s facing you head-on, your legs comfortably resting aside his hips. Stroking himself a few times, he taps his hard length against your already-swollen pussy lips. “Relax for me, kitten,” he guides, and you keen as you feel him begin to push inside you.

You try to stop yourself from clenching around him, but it’s been a while since you’ve fucked him, and as usual the biggest cock in the house takes getting used to. “So big, Daddy,” you breathe with a groan, brows pinched together at the stretch.

“You can take it, kitten, you’re doing so well for me,” Namjoon promises, holding you steady and open with a hand hooking your knee up high by his chest.

By the time he’s bottomed out, hips flush against your still-stinging ass, you feel so deliciously full that you can’t breathe. You lay back, eyes scrunched, and focus entirely on the feeling of his girth stretching you open.

“Feels good?” Namjoon checks in, and you nod, wriggling your hips against him to indicate he can move. “Hold on tight, then.”

Even though it’s barely been a day since you were last fucked, it feels like so much longer, and having Namjoon fill you up over and over is so satisfying on a deep level, that you don’t bother muffling your moans, letting yourself clutch at his arms and enjoy the ride.

While Namjoon certainly isn’t the most lithe or experienced member, his cock is a force of nature in and of itself, and this time, with the heat of desperation and the excitement of your altered dynamic getting to him, he fucks you without holding back.

If he’s like this on his third time, you think, he’ll be a beast before the show ends, but then the head of his cock strikes right against your g-spot, and the thought shatters as a cry is ripped from your throat.

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

He obliges you by adjusting his hips so that every stroke rubs against you just right, and your mind melts, colours and sounds and sensation blurring together in one full note of all-encompassing pleasure.

You cum without warning, not expecting it yourself, and Namjoon curses lowly in his throat as you clench around him. The orgasm is powerful enough to leave you shuddering hopelessly on the bed before going fully slack, drained.

Warm, fuzzy tingles settle in your fingers and toes and chest in the aftermath as Namjoon fucks you through it, not taking long himself to spill inside you. He drops your leg to the side and leans in, pressing slightly ticklish kisses to your neck and collarbone, hands on either side of your chest to keep his weight off you.

“So good to me,” he breathes out lowly, nuzzling your chin up to give him a better angle to sweetly kiss you on the lips, languid and unhurried as he slowly comes down from his own high.

This time when he pulls out of you and you’re left empty again, you don’t complain, too thoroughly fucked to do anything but let out a contented sigh. Namjoon cleans you up, apologising when oversensitivity makes you twitch at the slightest contact, and then washes up himself.

Just as you feel your mind lifting out of that mental space of feeling little, sitting up a bit on his bed and trying to work out if you’d be able to make it to your dresser to put on some pyjamas, Namjoon returns and does it for you, helping you slip into a baggy t-shirt that you like to use as a nightie.

“Are you going to stay?” you ask softly as he lowers the hem over your head, arms slotting through the holes.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon counters with an edge of hesitation, scratching lightly at his opposite arm, still naked.

You nod, patting the bed beside you. “If you don’t mind.”

Namjoon gathers his clothes and slips them on, not really appropriate for sleeping. Once he sees your look of confusion, he tilts his head towards your bedroom door. “I’m just going to duck out for some comfier clothes for sleeping, are you going to be alright for a moment?”

By the time he’s come back, you’ve already quickly brushed your teeth - hobbling to and from your bathroom like a newborn deer - and slipped under the covers, getting comfortable. Namjoon returns in grey striped pyjama pants and a white shirt, but he has something in his hands.

“You might think it’s silly,” he offers by way of explanation, the mattress springs squeaking as he gets on beside you, “but I like reading before bed, and I thought maybe you’d find it calming.”

With a dubious smile, you look at the book in his hands. It has the clean edges of a cared-for book, with the creases in the spine of a well-read one. On the cover, golden embossed stars and swooping font read The Little Prince. “You want me to read it?”

Namjoon returns your smile, warm and dimpled. “I want to read to you.”

The two of you cuddle together without words, one of his arms wrapped around your back as you lean on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Propping the small novel up on his stomach, he peers over your head to read.

“Once when I was six years old,” he begins, “I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.” He pauses, tapping you twice on the crown of your head to indicate you should look. “In the book it said…”

As he recites the novel aloud, you feel more than hear his voice, a low rumble in your ear like a rushing river or a slow-moving thunderstorm. It’s soothing, lulling you into sleep. His voice wraps around every word like a hug, enunciating each syllable with such care and colour and love, and always pausing when there were photos, even when your eyes slip shut and you begin to drift off.

Slowly, everything fades away. All sound is reduced to that regular heartbeat and warm rumble; all sensations are narrowed down to just the heat of his skin where it meets yours, his fingers lazily swirling patterns on your scalp. All thoughts simplify, the last six words in your brain, I could get used to this, before they wink out to nothing at all, and you sleep.

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