#fic name comes from ‘different then the others’

[svtiddiess]

Nom Nom: The Bonus

Synopsis: Seungcheol has been hitting the gym more frequently lately, all for your sake, though you had no idea. When you fail to notice how much bigger his tiddies have gotten, he’s visibly upset. Determined to make up for it, you decide to give his tiddies the attention and admiration they deserve.

Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, series

Rating: mature

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: body worship, tiddie biting, marking, dry humping, hand job, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: The 1k bonus fic is finally here! Thank you again so much for 1k followers! We're ending the series with how we started it, by noming on daddy Cheol's tiddies.

Thank you so much @yuncheoligans for beta reading!

This is part of a series, read the whole series here!

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Your eyes light up at the sound of the door clicking open. Seungcheol’s back from the gym. He steps into the living room, drops his gym bag, and heads straight toward you with a teasing grin, pulling you into a tight hug.

"No! You’re sweaty!" you squeal, wriggling out of his grasp.

His arms drop, and he puts on a mock pout. "You don’t love me anymore," he mutters dramatically.

"I do, but I love the non-sweaty, non-stinky version of you even more," you tease with a grin. "Now, go shower."

With an exaggerated huff, he heads to the bathroom, leaving you giggling at his antics.

A little while later, he emerges freshly showered, clad in just a pair of loose basketball shorts, his torso on full display. Your eyes instinctively trail over his figure, and you can’t help but notice how much bigger and more defined his muscles look. All those extra gym sessions are clearly paying off.

"Look at you, Mr. Sexy," you tease, smirking. "Going to the gym more often is really working—you’re looking so big and buff."

Seungcheol blushes slightly but breaks into a giggle before flexing his muscles. "Do you notice any specific changes?" he asks, his tone hopeful.

You tilt your head, a little puzzled. "Uh, your muscles are bigger and more toned?" you offer hesitantly.

"But specifically, which muscle?" he presses, looking hopeful.

"All…of them?" you drawl, still unsure what he’s getting at.

His shoulders slump, and a small frown tugs at his lips. Alarmed, you knit your brows, worried you might have said something wrong.

"Cheollie, what’s wrong? Did I say something to upset you?" you ask softly.

"I’ve been working so hard on building my chest muscles just for you, but you didn’t even notice," he mutters, pouting like a scolded puppy.

Your eyes widen in realisation, and an apologetic "Oh" slips from your lips. You quickly get up and cradle his face in your hands.

"I’m so sorry, Cheollie. I didn’t realise," you apologise earnestly.

But Seungcheol only huffs, pulling away to plop down on the couch, arms crossed and his signature pout firmly in place. "I worked really hard just for you," he grumbles.

You follow him to the couch, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your cheek against his. "And it shows, Cheollie. Your tiddies look amazing," you try to reassure him with a playful smile.

"If they’re so amazing, why didn’t you notice until I told you?" he retorts, huffing again.

You open your mouth to respond but falter, no words coming out. Seeing this, Seungcheol whines and gently pushes you away, his pout unwavering.

"Cheollie," you plead, dragging out his name. "It’s because your tiddies were already perfect, so I didn’t notice the difference."

"Liar," he mutters, furrowing his brows and turning away from you.

"It’s true!" you defend, scooting closer to him, but he just moves to the other end of the couch, arms still crossed like a sulking child.

"Cheollie, come on," you coax, but he ignores you, his back turned stubbornly.

Undeterred, you inch closer and pepper soft kisses on his shoulder. "Cheollie," you murmur sweetly, hoping to break through his resolve. Still, he refuses to look at you, keeping up his act of playful defiance.

With a dramatic huff, you get up from the couch and climb onto his lap, carefully squeezing yourself into his space. Despite your efforts, he stubbornly keeps his head turned away, arms crossed and his pout still firmly in place.

"Cheollie, look at me," you purr, gently taking hold of his chin and turning his face toward you. He finally relents, his wide, puppy-like eyes meeting yours, his lips still pressed into an adorable pout.

"I’m sorry I didn’t notice all the hard work you’ve been doing just for me," you murmur, your thumbs softly brushing against his cheeks as you cradle his face. "But I promise I’ll make it up to you now."

His pout wavers, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "How are you going to do that?" he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper.

"By showing you just how much I love your tiddies," you reply with a mischievous smirk, your tone playful yet tender.

Before he can respond, you close the distance between the both of you, pressing your lips to his in a gentle, lingering kiss. His pout melts away almost instantly, replaced by a soft smile as his arms relax and slide around your hips, holding you close.

Smiling against his lips, you begin trailing kisses down his neck, your touch light and affectionate. A breathy giggle escapes him, and the sound makes your heart flutter.

Your hands shift to his chest, giving them a firm squeeze and earning a soft groan from Seungcheol. Squeezing them again, you marvel at how much bigger they've become.

"Cheollie, you worked so hard just for me?" you ask, your voice filled with awe and affection as you gaze at him.

He chuckles softly and nods, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. "All for you, princess."

Your cheeks flush, and a warm glow fills your chest at his words. He puts in so much effort, going to the gym every single day just for you. Your heart swells with love—he really is your Cheollie.

You press another tender kiss to his lips and softly murmur, "I love you," before letting your attention drift to his chest.

You start by peppering his chest with soft kisses; he lets out a soft chuckle and murmurs, "That tickles." You gently sink your teeth into the muscle, eliciting a groan from him. You hum softly against his chest before leaning in to suck on the tender skin, releasing it with a gentle pop.

"So perfect, just for me," you mumble before sucking on another part of his chest.

Seungcheol throws his head back and lets out a soft moan as he savours the mix of pain and pleasure coursing through him, his cheeks flushing at your words. Slowly, you trail your way up to his neck, leaving a path of purple and red marks in your wake.

"My perfect Cheollie," you whisper softly against his neck before peppering it with love bites, making sure the world knows exactly who he belongs to.

Your hands go back to squeezing his plump chest, squeezing them like a stress ball. Taking each nipple into your hand, you start rolling the bud against your fingers, earning a whimper from him.

You can't help but roll your hips against his when you hear the pretty sounds escaping his lips. You giggle when you hear him groan and teasingly grind against him once more.

"Always such a tease," he mutters, his voice strained, making you giggle.

"Can’t help it," you reply with a playful grin.

You lean down and look up at him as you lick a long stripe from the base of his chest up to his neck. Seungcheol can’t help but let out a deep chuckle at your actions. You throw him a wink before taking one of his nipples into your mouth, sucking the sensitive bud. He exhales deeply, his hand slipping to the back of your head as he gently presses you closer against his chest.

You run a teasing hand down his torso, stopping at his crotch. You slip your hand into his shorts without warning, grinning when you find that he's not wearing anything underneath. Wrapping your hand around his dick, you earn a groan from him when you press your thumb against his slit.

His breath hitches when you start stroking him at a teasing pace. Your tongue continues to suck his sensitive bud whilst your hand continues to toy with his shaft. You let go of his nipple with a pop, moving to give the other one equal attention.

Desperate for more, Seungcheol starts to buck his hips into your hand, a soft whimper escaping his lips. You giggle at his helpless state, leaning back to look down at him with a teasing grin.

"What’s wrong, Cheollie?" you ask, smirking playfully.

"Princess," he whines, his voice laced with desperation, "don’t do this."

"Do what?" you reply innocently, slowing your hand movements on purpose, earning a frustrated groan from him.

"Princess," he growls, bucking his hips up in frustration.

Deciding he’s had enough teasing, you pick up the pace of your hand movements; Seungcheol throws his head back and moans, hips matching your pace. Leaning back down, you press a few more marks onto his chest, leaving no part untouched by your claim.

"Shit, I'm close," he groans out.

You lean in close to his ear, your voice soft as you whisper, "Cum for me, Cheollie."

At your words, he comes undone. You bite your lip and watch in awe as Seungcheol comes apart beneath you, jaw slacked and pretty moans escaping his lips. He takes a few moments to catch his breath before grabbing your chin, and pulling you into a messy kiss that leaves you breathless, stealing the air right from your lungs.

Pulling away, both of you gasp for breath, your eyes locking as soft smiles form on your lips. He gently tucks a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice tender.

"I love you more," you whisper back, your words laced with affection.

At that moment, it’s undeniable—Choi Seungcheol is yours, completely and utterly yours, in a way no one else could ever have him.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo

[lvnleah]

Would love a AWFC!Teen reader fic where she's Leah's younger sister who has always had to deal with being with Leah's sister, so many expectations on her and people being her friends because of Leah (Leah is still very much an amazing sister, loves her baby sister to bits!)

So when she's around ten ish, she makes the choice to not let anyone know Leah is her sister, goes to games but doesn't sit in the family section and sits with friends who she's never told about her family, maybe even uses her mum's maiden name rather than Williamson etc.

Leah is undoubtedly a bit upset about it because she doesn't want to make her little ones passion dampen just by being her (I hc that Leah would very much see R as her baby because that's what she called her when she was born or something) but her and their family all accept it and do what R wants and needs

Cut to R being brought into the senior time, smashing it in the big leagues and getting along well with all of the senior players who are looking at her like 'she seems familiar and I don't know why...' only to find out she's Leah's little sister when she's injured on the pitch or Leah gets injured and she gets all panicked and doesn't want to leave her side

Cue Beth, Katie, Kim etc. Who have all been there for years like 'Holy shit, you've grown up!!!!' Because they probably would've known her when she was younger since they've known Leah that long

Long winded but hopefully you'll like the idea 😂😂

the other williamson | leah williamson.

thank you for this request! :)

this is one of my favourite fics I’ve written!

You had always been proud to be Leah’s sister, how could you not be? She was England’s captain after all and an Arsenal star but sometimes being nine years younger than Leah came with its struggles. 

You were only seven when Leah first broke into the senior team and you were so proud of your sisters that for a while it’s all you talked about. Everyone at school knew about your cool big sister Leah and how she was playing for Arsenal. 

At that time, women’s football wasn’t massive so of course you got a bit of stick from a few boys in your class but it wasn’t anything you could handle. 

“Arsenal women?” One of them scoffed one day in the playground, “that isn’t a proper team!”

You looked the boy straight in the eye. “They are a proper team! My sister’s going to be the best player in the world, just you watch!”

The boy had rolled his eyes and laughed, but you didn’t care. You’d march off, determined to prove him wrong. Well, Leah would prove him wrong, and you’d be there cheering her on every step of the way.

For a while, being Leah’s sister was the coolest thing in the world. You loved going to games, sitting with your family, wearing a little Arsenal jersey with Williamson on the back. 

Leah always made time for you, even when her schedule got busy. She’d let you run around on the pitch after matches, ruffle your hair, and call you “my little bubba,” no matter how much you protested.

But as you got older, things changed.

By the time you were fifteen, Leah was a household name. Women’s football had grown massively, and she was basically the face of it after winning the euros. People started treating you differently, not because of who you were, but because of who your sister was.

At school, kids who’d never spoken to you before suddenly wanted to be your friend. “Can you get me an autograph from Leah?” they’d ask, or, “Do you think she’d come to my party?” Teachers started expecting more from you, too, as if being Leah Williamson’s sister meant you had to be perfect at everything.

At the academy, it was worse. You had been lucky enough to sign for the Arsenal academy when you were twelve but after the euros things changed. Every time you stepped onto the pitch, you could feel the weight of their eyes on you.

Coaches would compare you to Leah, even though you were nothing like her as a player. You didn’t even play in the same position, you were a striker not a defender. Teammates would make comments, sometimes kind, sometimes not.

“She’s only on the team because her sister’s Leah Williamson,” someone whispered once after you scored. “She’s not even good enough for the academy.”

It stung more than you cared to admit.

That was when you made your decision. You didn’t want to be known as Leah’s sister anymore. You wanted to be you. That night after training, you came home and broke down in tears to your mum. 

“Bubba, what’s wrong?” Amanda asked you as you stormed into the house, flinging your bag down onto the ground. 

You sat down with a huff as more tears started to escape, Jacob gave Amanda a look, “Been like this since I picked her, won’t say what’s wrong though.” Your brother sighed.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, wiping at your face angrily, though the tears kept falling.

Amanda crouched down in front of you, her voice soft. “You’re clearly not fine, Bubba. Come on, tell me what’s going on.”

You glanced up at her, hesitating. Part of you didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the opportunities you had or for Leah being your sister but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I’m sick of it, Mum,” you said, your voice cracking. “Sick of being just Leah’s sister. Everyone at the academy thinks I’m only there because of Leah. They don’t even see me as my own person, just as ‘Leah’s little sister.’ I can’t do it anymore.”

Amanda’s face softened, and she sat beside you before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Bubba. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.”

Jacob sat down next to you on the couch on the other side, frowning. “That’s not fair. You’re talented in your own right. Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous.”

“But I'm always being compared to Leah, J,” you said, though your voice wavered. “No one believes that I'm good enough. They just think I’m riding on Leah’s name.”

Amanda kissed your temple, “You are good enough. And I understand why this is so hard for you. But what do you want to do about it? How can we help?”

You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip. “I don’t want to be ‘Williamson’ anymore,” you finally said. “I want to use your maiden name, Mum. I want to be a Baker, not Leah’s sister.”

Amanda blinked, taken aback for a moment, but then she nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want, then we’ll support you. Right, Jacob?”

“Of course,” Jacob said, ruffling your hair. “You’re still you, no matter what name’s on the back of your shirt.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you nodded, feeling a small wave of relief.

“What about Leah?” Amanda asked gently. “Have you talked to her about this?”

You froze. You hadn’t thought about how Leah would feel. “I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s always been so proud of me, but…”

“But you need to do this for yourself,” Amanda finished for you. “You know she’ll understand.”

You nodded.

Later that evening, when Leah got home from training, you sat down and told her everything. You expected her to be upset or worse, disappointed but instead, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Bubba,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I had no idea you were feeling like this. I’m so sorry, I’ve made things harder for you.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly. “It’s not your fault, Le. I’m so proud of you, but I just need to figure out who I am without being ‘your sister.’”

Leah nodded, her hands on your shoulders. “I get it. And I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Whatever name you use, you’ll always be my little Bubba, okay?”

You laughed through your tears, hugging her tightly.

That night, you went to bed feeling lighter than you had in months. You were ready to step out of Leah’s shadow and into your own light.

Fast forward a few years, you were now eighteen and transitioning into the senior team. Leah was now twenty-seven and somehow everyone had managed to keep it a secret that you were Leah’s sister. 

Majority of the girls that you played with had either left the academy or completely stopped playing football. Your shirt name was now Baker and had been for two years now, your coaches were different too and everyone just thought that Leah was your family friend. 

“Excited for your first senior training, bubba?” Leah asked you one December morning as she drove you both to the training ground. 

You shrugged, a mixture of emotions, “Bit nervous…” you muttered, “Excited but nervous.”

Arsenal’s senior team had a new coach, Renee Slegers, and she had been to watch the u18s a few times. For some reason, she had seen something in you and wanted you to come train with the senior team and potentially play a few games. 

“You’ve got this, Bubba. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough. Renee knows what she’s doing, and so do you.” Leah told you. 

You nodded, trying to let her words sink in. You knew Leah believed in you, she always had, but the pressure of stepping into the senior team felt overwhelming. It wasn’t just about proving yourself, it was about proving you belonged and you were separate from Leah.

When you arrived at the training ground, Leah walked in beside you, her confidence making her look so at ease. Meanwhile, your stomach churned as the nerves threatened to take over. You adjusted your backpack, trying to focus on your breathing.

“Relax, Bakes,” Leah said with a smirk, using the nickname some of your academy teammates had given you after you changed your last name. “They’re going to love you.”

As you entered the changing room, you were immediately greeted by familiar faces, some you hadn’t seen in years. Beth grinned as soon as she spotted you.

“No way! Little Bubba? Is that you?” Beth’s voice was teasing, her eyes wide in mock disbelief.

You groaned internally. So much for keeping the “Bubba” nickname under wraps. “It’s Baker now,” you corrected with a sheepish smile, but your voice was warm. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as Beth pulled you into a quick hug.

“Leah didn’t tell us you’d grown up so much!” Beth teased. “Last time I saw you, you were, what, fifteen?”

“Beth,” Leah interrupted, shooting her a warning look, though she was clearly trying not to laugh.

More players filtered in, all of them reacting with surprise when they realized who you were. Some of them hadn’t seen you since you were a kid, tagging along to games and family events. For others, it was the first time they’d met you. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Katie said, holding up her hands. “So you’re telling me Leah’s been hiding this one from us? You’re playing with us now?”

You felt your cheeks burn as all eyes turned to you, but Leah stepped in, her tone light and teasing. “She wanted to make it on her own. Didn’t want to ride my coattails.”

“Fair play,” Kim said with an approving nod. “Gotta respect that.”

Leah turned to you, her smile soft. “Alright, Bubba, I mean Baker, time to show them why you’re here.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile before heading out to the pitch. As you jogged onto the field with the team, the nervous energy in your chest began to settle. You reminded yourself why you were there. Not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

And as the session began, you could feel yourself falling into the rhythm of the game you loved, the sound of the ball connecting with your boot grounding you. The team was fast, skilled, and ruthless, but you held your own. A well-timed run, a sharp finish past the keeper and it wasn’t long before you felt like you belonged.

At the end of training, Renee pulled you aside, her expression calm but firm. “You did well today. Keep this up, and we’ll see about getting you some minutes in the next match.”

Your heart soared at her words, but you kept your face neutral, nodding. “Thank you, Coach.”

Leah was waiting for you by the car when you finally made it out of the locker room. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to gauge how you were feeling.

“Well?” she asked as you climbed in.

You smiled, the weight on your shoulders feeling just a little lighter. “I think I did okay.”

Leah grinned, her pride shining through. “I told you, Bubba. You’ve got this.”

The night of your debut arrived quicker than you expected. Arsenal was playing a league game at Meadow Park against Crystal Palace, and the squad list had you on the bench. You tried to focus during the pre-match warm-ups, but your nerves were all over the place. Leah, as always, noticed.

“Stop overthinking,” she whispered as the two of you jogged back to the dugout after the warm-up. “Just play your game. If you get on, don’t try to do too much. Be you.”

You nodded, though the butterflies in your stomach didn’t ease. The match started, and you watched intently from the bench, studying the pace of the game and trying to picture where you’d fit in.

By halftime, Arsenal was up 1–0, the goal coming from Leah. Renee made a couple of changes early in the second half, but your name wasn’t called. You were beginning to think your debut would have to wait until another day when, in the 70th minute Renee called you. 

“Baker, you’re on,” Renee said, her voice firm but encouraging. “Stay calm, yeah? Leah’s out there with you. We’re doing okay, 3-0, so just stay calm, yeah? Try your hardest.”

You nodded, barely able to believe this was actually happening. Leah was standing by the touchline, waiting for you, her hand resting casually on her hip. When you reached her, she nudged you with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Ready for this, Bubba?”

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, but you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped.

The referee blew the whistle, and you stepped onto the pitch, replacing Beth up top. Leah gave you a quick pat on the back as you ran to your position. “You’ve got this.”

The first few minutes were a blur. The pace of the game was faster than anything you’d experienced before, but you adjusted, remembering Leah’s advice: play your game.

Then, in the 80th minute, the ball came to you. Leah had intercepted a pass in and played a perfect through ball into your path. You took a touch, your heart pounding as you found yourself one-on-one with the keeper.

You steadied yourself, then slotted the ball into the bottom corner with your left foot. For a moment, everything went silent, and then the roar of the fans hit you all at once.

You’d scored on your debut.

Leah was the first to reach you, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug. “That’s my sister!” she shouted, her voice full of pride.

The rest of the team swarmed you, congratulating you with slaps on the back and ruffling your hair. The chant of your name began to ripple through the crowd, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged, not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

When the final whistle blew, Arsenal had secured a 5–0 victory. Leah pulled you into another hug as you both walked off the pitch.

“Told you you’d smash it,” she said, her grin wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Thanks, Le.”

That night, as you sat with Leah in the kitchen at home, replaying the match in your head, she looked at you and said softly, “You’re going to have a great career, Bubba. I’m proud of you, you know that?”

For the first time, you didn’t mind the nickname. “Thanks, Le. Means a lot.”

[writeriguess]

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you—it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

[samiwok]

/2025.SAMIWOK/

{ NSFW } — A Valentine’s day gift,

pairing : Rafayel x fem!reader

summary : it’s Valentine’s Day and Rafayel invites you to spend it with him at his place. the night goes pretty well and it ends up just the way you expected.

content : 6k words. chocolate aphrodisiacs ?? ; use of handcuffs ; oral sex : reader receiving ; soft sex ; Rafayel teases a lot

note : the explicit smut part isn’t that long it’s mostly the tensed atmosphere before that is well written but i’m planning on improving about that. anyway. that’s the first lads fic but there’ll be more heh

“Valentine’s Day is a stupid and commercialized holiday.” Those were your own words for many years.

You’re a grown adult and you still see Valentine's day as a scam; something made up completely by a capitalist society forcing people to spend money. Because truly.. who wouldn’t want to see their loved ones smile ? Of course you still think that it is the reality behind that holiday.

Yet it’s different this year.

Because this year you have him. Him, who texts you daily to check on you. Him, who stares at you like you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. Him, who makes you feel loved simply by smiling back at you.

So yeah.. Valentine’s Day is stupid. Stupid and made up to have stupid people spending their stupid money on stupid things to give to their lovers. Stupid holiday. Yet you crave to spend it with him. You crave his gifts, his touch.. well, his attention.

You’re still in the street, walking home from today’s assigned missions. Your eyes wander around the city. Couples.. Families.. And in the middle of that, single souls, wandering around the streets, looking lonely just like you.

Lonely… Yeah, perhaps you should try and call…

Oh ?

You take your phone out of your pocket and see the familiar face of the one you think about a little too much these days. “Incoming call : Annoying fishie…<3”

You smile at the only presence of his name on your screen, because the truth is he’s got you wrapped around his fingers. So much so that you’re smiling at your phone in the middle of the street, excited to hear his voice before you even pick up the call. You cough slightly before you do. After all, you wouldn’t want to give him the confidence he needs to tease you.

“Hello ?” You reply, quite calmly and your voice almost sounds a little cold.

“Hmph. Finally ! I thought you’d never pick up the call.” And there he goes, complaining not even five seconds into the call. You sigh longly. He’s always so dramatic.. and for what ? That man is 24 after all and still pouting like a little boy whose mother refuses a toy. Ridiculous. But even that part of him makes him lovable to you.

“Don’t even start-“ You reply and he interrupts with a soft laugh that warms your heart. You instinctively smile because you can picture his lips curling up as he laughs and his eyes matching the playful tone of his voice as he speaks.

“Is my Miss bodyguard free tonight, by any chance ?” He asks so politely. Usually, he would tell you to join him wherever he wants to see you. Who would’ve imagined him being so sweet as he suggests a plan to you.

You take a look at your watch quickly and it displays 5:21 pm. It is not late. Your plans for tonight were mostly about heading home, showering, eating dinner and sleeping. You worked today and you have to go back to work tomorrow. Yeah… Stupid holiday which doesn't even allow a resting day.

“My weeks are only filled with meetings with colleagues and wanderers.” You reply right away, complaining a bit about how tired you feel. The question was not about it, yet Rafayel still replies to you with worry and encouraging words.

On the other end of the line, he’s looking around the garden. It is empty; just the way he feels when you’re not by his side. He respects your job, knows it’s hard and doesn’t want to be a bother yet he’d be ready to beg for you to come see him everyday.

“Need a massage, cutie ?” He asks and you can almost picture that annoying smirk on his lips from here.

Of course he was going to flirt with you. There is no way he calls you and doesn’t try his tricks on you. Because he loves the way you always let out a little blank before you reply, as if thinking hard about a perfect answer.

“…How much will it cost ?” You hear a slight humming sound as you reply. It’s not the first time you flirt back, but it always feels so surprising for him.

He chuckles and his breath on the speaker almost tickles your ear with its sweetness. “We’ll figure something out.” He replies and the sound of his voice drives you crazy. His low voice is so unusual it strikes a special feeling inside of you.

You want him. Oh God you do.

There is a brief silence, quickly interrupted by Rafayel. “7pm at my place ?” he asks. You ponder for a while and agree. If this is going to be the first Valentine’s day you spend with him, you might as well make it unforgettable for both of you, right ?

There’s a few more brief exchanges and you hang up the phone the minute you step through the door to your apartment. You head towards the living-room and lay on the sofa.

Tired… You think as you close your eyes for a few seconds. You were gonna prepare of course, but a small nap never killed anyone.

You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling that is only lightened up by the colored lights of the bar that’s on the other side of the road, right in front of the building you live in. It goes from a flashy purple to various shades of pink before it turns to a light blue. It goes in a loop and it reminds you of Rafayel’s color palette.

You smile at the thought of him. Again. Oh how desperate you look like when your brain replays hundreds of memories of his pretty eyes devouring you alive.

You grab your phone that’s vibrating right next to your ear in a quite annoying way and hold it up pretty close to your face as you’re still laying down.

You open Rafayel’s message and your cheeks get slightly red. “do you like surprises, miss bodyguard ?” he asks and his message is joined with a picture of half of his naked chest and his hand holding out a pair of handcuffs.

You never tried this before yet the photo instantly turns you on. Perhaps it’s because you know it’s him holding them out that you want them on your wrists so bad.

You gulp before responding almost immediately. “Want me to tie you down to the bed ?” You tease and surprisingly he instantly responds “…who knows. im eager to see you try” punctuated with playful emotes.

Of course he was gonna text this. That man just has a way of driving you crazy that is incredibly strong and even though you’re used to it by now, he somehow still manages to get you giggling every single time.

You take a quick shower, not wanting to be late for your date with your very first Valentine. And because your hair today is especially beautiful, you decide not to wash it to be the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. When you get out of the shower and head over to your bedroom, the clock displays 6:02. You’re right on time to make yourself pretty with a bit of makeup and the stunning clothes you have in mind.

That man deserves it, with the way he makes you feel : loved and safe; Respected and interesting. You take a good look at yourself in the mirror and you feel so beautiful you would almost want to kiss yourself.

Perfect. You grab your phone and quickly type a message before going out of the building.

“Will be there in 20.”

As you head to his place, the night is slowly falling. You look around and realize the streets are empty. The ocean is pretty agitated tonight and the warmth in the air surrounding you is a sign of a storm incoming.

You’re not really fond of huge storms, at least not at Rafayel’s place since he lives so close to the ocean. Your eyes are fixed on the horizon and before you even realize it, you’re right in front of his place. It’s a pretty immense ground, definitely way too big for a single person.

Rafayel likes his loneliness but what he craves even more is your presence by his side. Therefore, he walks towards the door the second he realizes you’re here.

You push open the front gate. The lights are on all along the way towards his house. And as you walk up the stairs, he opens the door, slowly leaning against it. He wears his usual white shirt and fancy black pants tonight. He looks good, stunning even, as always; yet you have to admit you feel a bit… disappointed, maybe ? After all, you put on a fancy dress, and high heels for the night. It was not the most comfortable but you felt it was needed to appear perfect for him. Meanwhile, he’s standing there, looking perfect with little to no effort.

“My miss bodyguard made herself extremely pretty.” He points out the obvious. You do look perfect. Your hair is soft and placed perfectly well. You wear a long red velvet dress he has never seen before and it matches the lipstick you chose earlier. Your eyes stare at him in a way that’s making him forget about everything that isn’t you.

Rafayel stares at you in awe and he cannot take his eyes off. You’re beautiful. Always. And when you look like that, you are like a muse to him, his source of inspiration. He wishes his brain could photograph you under the moonlight so he could always wake up with that image of you as you walk up towards him for the whole night.

The whole night.

A whole night to yourselves.

It almost sounds like a dream, yet, when his hand grabs yours and his thumb rubs the palm of your hand, you realize it’s real. All of it. From his soft gaze to his gentle touch to the intoxicating scent of his perfume that’s making you crazy about him. It is definitely real. He is here with you.

It’s the lovers holiday and he decided to spend it with you.

“Are you cold, cutie ?” He asks and he’s ready to go running, and get one of his numerous cardigans to put on your shoulders to protect you from the soft breeze because nothing could ever be allowed to hurt his beloved.

You shake your head. “No. It’s quite warm, actually.” You add, and just when you try avoiding his gaze he flashes you a smile. “Come with me, then.” You walk into this big house of his and even though you’ve come here multiple times before you never get used to how luxurious it seems.

The hall of the house is decorated with glorious statues and large, beautiful paintings made by Rafayel himself. You stare around as if discovering a whole new world and quickly reach the garden. As you set your feet on the wooden patio you realize he’s been preparing a big surprise for you.

There are flowers. Lots of them. Bouquets, all as beautiful as the others. There’s food all over the table, and it’s literally everything you adore. The music playing in the background is from the playlist you once made for him. You gulp, and turn to him, a bit emotional about all of this.

“My God, Rafayel. You didn’t have to do all that.” You don’t even find the right words at this point and maybe you sound a bit ungrateful right now but he knows you well enough to know this actually pleases you, so much that you struggle expressing your genuine feelings.

“Indeed. I didn’t have to.” He repeats, a bit sassy as he approaches you, pulling on your hand until he feels your body pressed against his and he can whisper against your ear. “My Miss Bodyguard works hard daily to protect me, I must repay her the right way.”

You run a hand through his hair and stare at him for a few seconds, eyes intensely screaming how hard you want him and he gets it immediately. His lips crash into yours, capturing your mouth for a passionate kiss and it almost feels like you have not met for years with how hard you’re both clinging to each other.

You pull his hair gently and he almost moans into the kiss. The kiss feels like it’s never-ending and it takes all of his energy to pull away from you.

He takes a step back, catching his breath and without any surprise : he jokes again.

“Let’s not eat dessert yet, mhm ?” He says as he points to the table and all of the delicious food he’s prepared before you come.

Your thumb brushes against your lips as you follow him to a new topic after that steamy kiss you just shared. “Did Thomas help you do this ?” You ask, a bit curious as to how he managed to do this in only a few hours.

Rafayel pouts slightly, his arms crossed as he turns his back on you, “Hmph. I can do things on my own, you know.”

You smile and walk towards him. His back is still turned on you. You wrap an arm around his neck, kissing his cheek softly, your hand caressing his jawline until it reaches his chin, locking it between your fingers and forcing him to look at you.

“Rafayel ?” You say. You raise an eyebrow, a bit suspicious. Your voice is low, almost menacing and his eyes look away from yours, capitulating. “Fiiiine.” he says, still pouting slightly “He helped me a bit.”

“You little liar !” You accuse him but his angel eyes make you forget about it pretty quickly. They’re screaming his innocence despite him the fact he just admitted trying to hide Thoma’s help in his surprise.. “I technically did not lie.” And you shake your head, brushing it off.

As you take a step back, pulling away from him, you cross your arms against your chest in an elegant way. Your eyes are almost challenging him to do something, and he clears his throat quietly.

Rafayel smiles and pulls your hand once again, making you follow him towards the sofa near the table. He remains standing for a few seconds, his eyes hypnotized by the attractive sight of your low-cut neckline given by the angle.

It’s only when you move your head and call out his name once again tonight that he snaps out of his thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, yeah” he quickly says, his head shaking as if it helped chase the dirty thoughts away.

The music changes to the next track, and it’s a much calmer one. The instruments used in that one have the power to change your mood right away and when your eyes meet his, you know your minds are connected. You think alike a lot of times, and now is no exception.

He wants you.

His eyes are filled with lust and he’s practically taking off your clothes with them. His Adam’s apple moves as he tries gulping his desires away discreetly; and fails. His head rests against one of his hands, his index finger tapping regularly against his temples as if he was waiting for something. A sign maybe ? Your consent to him touching you.

You want him.

You blink several times as if it would be enough to hide the perversion of the numerous secret thoughts reflecting in your eyes. Your legs are crossed and subconsciously rubbing against one another, desperately seeking some sort of pleasure. And your breathing… It betrays your needs.

“A glass of wine ?” Rafayel is the first to break the silence between you two. And thank God he does, otherwise you wouldn’t have lasted much longer before jumping on his lap and ripping both your clothes off.

You nod. You don’t drink so much wine, and aren’t into it either but you’ll take anything he’ll give you. Also the kiss you shared just before and the tense atmosphere that seem to surround the two of you does not give you a good reason to turn down his offer. You’re thirsty and it’s not wine nor water that is going to slow it down.

He hands out your glass to you and then his. “Cheers.” He says with a pretty smile matching the softness in his eyes as you stare into them before clinking softly your glass against his.

“Cheers.” You respond and your eyes never once leave his face as you take a first sip of the drink. It’s good. Really good. It’s probably the best wine you’ve ever tasted. At least, the only wine that is not making your face contort in disgust as if being inflicted the worst sufferings in the world.

You put the glass down and smirk at him.

“Shall we play a questions game ?”

You feel a little bolder than usual, and judging by the gaze in his eyes at your proposition, he’s into it. His lips mirror yours, curling up in a playful smirk. “Go ahead and ask a question then.”

You squint as if thinking hard about your question when in reality : you suggested it only because you knew exactly what to ask and where it would lead.

“Then… Let’s start easy. What do you think of my dress ?” You ask innocently caressing the velvet fabric. It feels so soft against your fingertips and you love it. You stare at him as you wait for the verdict.

Rafayel looks at the dress, fully, and his insistent gaze could almost feel uncomfortable if you didn’t want him right here and now.

“It perfectly accentuates that beautiful body of yours, miss Bodyguard,” He replies confidently. “My turn now. What do you hide under that perfectly cut dress ?”

He asks so quickly you can’t even grasp the compliment he just gave you. You gulp and decide to flirt again. “Why don’t you take a guess ?”

“That is not the rule of the game.” He says so low you almost can’t hear him.

“Who cares about rules ?” You say. You could tell him what you wear of course. But you want him to discover it himself for you’ve been dying to see the look on his face when you’d reveal your lingerie to him.

Rafayel approaches dangerously on the sofa. “Careful, cutie. I care about rules, and I’ll make you apply them if I have to.” His eyes are slightly menacing when he accentuates the first person pronoun. His words are an obvious threat but also a challenge. Another. Because the truth is, Rafayel knows you. He knows you, like the back of his hand and he knows the dirtiest part of you is ready to receive a punishment.

That wouldn’t even feel like one, considering some of your fantasies.

You smile and stare as he keeps approaching you slowly, almost like a predator that is about to catch his prey, a prey he’s been going after since they first met.

“I said : take a guess.” You repeat. Your voice is low and your heart feels like it’s about to explode from all the tension between you two. Rafayel’s lips are slightly parted and he sighs. “Can I have a hint ?” He asks, giving up resisting your little game.

“Too easy… Try guessing without a hint and you’ll be rewarded if you’re right.” You say. The bold words come out of your mouth so quickly you can’t even think before you speak. That makes him laugh a bit and he looks quite menacing when he does.

He keeps approaching and at some point you end up laying on your back with him crawling over your body, his hands resting on both sides of your head on the sofa, as if he’s caging you with it.

His eyes narrow as he looks at your lips and then back to your eyes. You don’t even know how divine you look right now. His mind is getting dysfunctional from all the thoughts he’s having, from how bad he wants you. At this point he’s not even trying to hide it anymore.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t claim that reward anyway.” You’re about to protest, when his lips find yours once more tonight. If the kiss from earlier was filled with the desire you both feel for each other; it is no different now, except it’s more pressed, more needy. You bite his lips as a slight punishment for his lack of obedience.

He pulls back and touches his lips you’ve just bitten. “You…” He whines, before he gets up and lifts you up the sofa.

He takes a few steps towards the house and leaves the untouched food on the table along with both your wine glasses. His room is the door that’s right on the left and as he opens it you see how he carefully decorated his room.

There’s a box of chocolate on the nightstand and a few other things. Rafayel carefully put you on his bed. He takes a step back and stares at you from head to toe.

The music that was playing outside is now playing on the small speakers he put in his room. As the next song plays, a smile paints on his lips. He slowly leans over you, his hands delicately taking off your heels. He looks down at you as you’re laying on your back and he’s still standing by the bed.

He looks at his left and opens the chocolate box. “Do you know that chocolates have aphrodisiac virtues ?” You heard about this before, but despite eating chocolate before, you’ve never felt anything special.

You gulp and he’s handing you a chocolate. “They say when the chocolate melts into your mouth, it creates a pure euphoric sensation in your whole body that’s making you crave something else.” He smirks and approaches the chocolate to your mouth. His long and thin fingers rub against your lips as you part them slightly to bite into what he’s giving you.

Your eyes never once leave his, and the expression on your face speaks thousands of unsaid words. He gives you a chaste kiss and eats the other part of the chocolate.

“What do you think, Miss Bodyguard ? Does eating that chocolate strike a special spot inside of you ?” He asks but the answer he wants isn’t about this. What he truly wants to know is whether you want him or not. And he knows you do, because, well, it’s written all over your face. But he wants you to say it.

He kneels on the edge of the bed, his hand pulling up your left leg, bringing it higher until you’re able to rub your feet against his lower back. His long and thin fingers feel so soft against your skin. “Say the words.” Rafayel commands, but the softness in his voice makes it sound like a plea.

He’s containing himself, but he knows he won’t be able to hold himself much longer if you keep staring at him like that while pulling his body closer to yours on his bed, with the sensual music playing in the background.

He grabs the zipper on the side of your dress, pulling it down and you bite your lip when his mouth finds its way down into your neck, dropping gentle kisses and eagerly sucking on your skin. “You drive me crazy.” He whispers between two kisses. His warm breathing on your neck mixed to his growing erection rubbing against your own most intimate parts make you let out a moan.

“I want you. Rafayel, please...” There you are, begging him to go further. Judging by the instant smirk on his lips as he pulls away from you to take off his shirt, he’s been craving to hear this.

Seeing him shirtless got you biting your lower lip, again. His body is perfect. Because it’s him. His chest punctuated here and there with a few moles make him extremely attractive. The way his abs are drawn make you want to admire it. The dim light only allows you to see his curves in the dark yet you still think of him as a work of art.

But you don’t even have time to think about what you’re staring at. Rafayel lays on top of you, whispering things against your ear that probably got you blushing. “Should I be gentle ? Or would you prefer me being rough ?” He asks and it’s most likely the most intimate question you’ve ever been expected to answer.

“Why don’t you take out my dress first ?” You say and you’re surprised yourself. Because you have no energy left in your body to resist him, you just crave to feel him inside of you yet you still try gaining time over that.

He chuckles. Part of him is quite irritated not to have an answer yet. His frustration leads him to be quite in a hurry as his hands start pulling down on your dress. Quickly, your bra is revealed and he’s almost salivating at the sight.

“Beautiful.” He whispers against your skin as he pulls you off the bed. You’re standing now and as if he was your loyal subject, he kneels before you. His eyes are practically devouring you right here, dropping kisses along your chest while pulling down your dress to reveal your full body.

“Beautiful.” He repeats as his mouth goes down on your body. Your skin is burning from the initial heat in the room mixed to the heated exchange with him just a few seconds ago.

You gulp and hold your smirk when the dress finally reaches the floor. With grace, you hold onto his shoulders and get rid of it, throwing the dress away in his room.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” You mutter and his eyes almost sparkle at the sight of your stockings. “You-“ He starts and he stops himself. He’s got too many things to say, but he prefers to show you instead.

Too many words could bore you. But his hands ? Oh no there’s no way his expert hands bore you. He brings your left leg to his shoulder, and with his eyes closed he starts kissing your inner thighs. He knows it can get quite a sensitive spot when you’re so desperate to be loved, physically.

His mouth moves fast towards your pussy and it catches you off guard, your mouth letting out a few moans as you almost beg him to stop. You surely don’t want to cum just yet, but he has the entire night to make you. And it’s starting now. All of his senses are focused on hearing your sweet moans and teasing your wet sex. He loves to hear you and the smirk on his lips as you get louder only grow larger.

“Did you- mh like the lingerie I’ve chosen ?” You still manage to ask. You’re not one to beg for compliments, but you know the garter belts made him lose his mind for a second. And that’s the exact reason he’s still kneeling, despite the floor of his room not being comfortable, and for what ? Only to pleasure you.

“It’s perfect. You’re so divine it makes me crazy…” He whispers, opening his eyes to check the reaction on your face, and seeing the evident blush on your cheeks, he’s fully satisfied.

“Why don’t I show you just how much I love them ?” He asks, whispering, his fingers grasping the black lace thong that’s the only thing separating his eager mouth to the sweet spot that could make you a moaning mess. You gasp when he pulls it down, without ever taking his eyes off yours.

“Stay still, cutie.” He drops a kiss first, and quickly sticks his tongue to your clit.

“Rafayel- ah…” Your hands grip his hair instinctively.

As his tongue works hardly against your clit, almost desperate to make you cum quickly, you pull his hair harder. He’s good. He’s so good, you actually wonder how many times before he did this, and to who.

“Focus. Look at me, pleasuring you.” The way he accentuates his last word almost sounds like he can hear your train of thought.

Rafayel hums against your clit, and it sends a special feeling in your entire being. His tongue is lapping faster now and his eyes are dangerously staring at each of your reactions, memorizing them.

It is the most beautiful sight ever. You’re having a great time, he reads it on your face, and he’s just so proud he’s the one making you feel that way.

“I’m gonna.. I’m gonna cum if you keep going.” You warn. And he stops, at least for a second. “Then cum.” He says and it’s almost cruel how he commands you around. He wraps his hands around your thighs, locking you here with him sucking on your clit as if it was the source of the euphoria in his entire body.

And it might be at this point. You feel yourself getting close and he feels it too. With a smirk on his lips, he eats you out harder. Faster. Anything to hear his name fall out from your mouth. His eyes are practically screaming “Go on”.

Suddenly you feel yourself losing your balance, because the wave of pleasure submerging your body is simply too good. It’s been a long time and your legs are shaking so hard. But before you have the time to worry about falling, Rafayel lifts you off the floor and throws you on the bed.

“Have you had enough, cutie ?” He asks and he’s so obviously provoking you with that question. He smirks proudly as he sees you, still panting and the sheets becoming wet between your thighs. It’s his work of art.

You chuckle and shake your head. “Didn't you promise me a surprise ?” You say, referring to the earlier texts. He laughs too. He knows what you mean, yet he didn’t know you’d be into it as well, to the point of asking for it.

He opens the drawer and takes out the pair of handcuffs. “Shall I ?” He asks softly as you approach your wrists, allowing him to put them on for you. He bites his lip, carefully staring as he handcuffs you. His moves are slow, he obviously never did it before. And it somehow warms your heart to know you’re trying things together already.

“There. Does it hurt ?” He asks gently, his eyes scanning your face in a search for responses. “No. Now… I believe we’re not done yet.” You say, extending your leg so that your feet could rub against the obvious bulge in his pants.

As soon as you ask for it, he delivers. He takes off the rest of his clothes and his hard cock bouncing back up makes you bite your lip. It’s long but not too thick, just like you expected it to be.

He comes back on the bed and none of you waste time. You both know you’ve been wanting this ever since the beginning of this date. No. Ever since you first kissed.

You spread your legs, your wrists still tied to the bed.

He seizes your waist, pulling your body closer, and of course he doesn’t give you what you crave immediately. Instead, he rubs the tip of it against your clit and smirks down at your desperate expression.

“Put it in.” You command and it’s quite obvious from the hurried tone in your voice that you’re getting frustrated. He loves it when you moan, but he loves it even more when you beg.

His arrogant eyes stare down, and with his hands he takes off your bra, revealing your beautiful breast. He pinches one of your nipples, while his mouth eagerly sucks on the other. “You better ask nicely if you want it.” He whispers against your skin.

His chuckle makes you want to push him down the bed and ride him yourself. But you’re unable to move since he tied you up just before. Now you’re almost pissed off by his attitude, because of course he was gonna push his luck and your limits with it.

“Rafayel.” You say. “I only listen to good girls.” He replies.

He’s making you crazy, in all the ways he can. You want to scream because it feels so frustrating right now. But his cruelty somehow makes him so attractive to you.

“Rafayel please… I need you.” You say, eyebrows pinched together and angel eyes begging for him to stop teasing.

That gaze of yours is all he needs to change his mind and the soft sound of your voice as you beg for him to take you is more than enough.

He doesn’t warn, doesn’t say anything and pushes himself into your wet cunt, and it’s squeezing him so good. He whines with each of his thrusts, desperate. “Mhh.. you’re so good” He moans into your ear.

His hands are holding you in place, and your body’s not flinching, not even when his thrusts become harder and more desperate.

“Rafayel… Kiss me.” You say, almost pleading him to agree and as he obliges, his lips finding their way toward yours, you’re reduced to a moaning mess.

His thrusts switch from delicate and filled with some sort of desire : one to make you feel loved to a more brutal and rough way that doesn't show any mercy to your overstimulated body.

He loves that you take him without complaining. You let him do as he pleases, mostly because you like it that way too, but also because seeing him so free with you feels good. He feels good enough with you to be able to show both sides of himself.

“You’re so good…” Rafayel moans into your ear and he said it before but you never get tired of hearing it. His voice is softer than usual, more serious yet more relaxed at the same time.

His hands caress your thighs, throwing your legs behind his back and you wrap them together, pressing his body together with yours. You crave his voice, his scent and his touch. You want him to fill you up completely because he’s yours and you are his.

“Mine…” He moans against your neck as he sucks on it gently, but still hard enough to leave a mark of his affection.

He thrusts harder, deeper. He’s in a hurry to cum. He wants to make you feel good, wants to moan your name and make you feel like you’re the only woman in the world because, truly, you are the only one that matters to him.

The way he clings to you, and the way his voice calls out your name several times as he keeps burying himself deep inside of you, it just feels right. It feels like the only thing that was ever certain.

You are meant for him.

That’s the only thing that’s on both your minds as you reach orgasm together. And the room is filled with both your moans of each other’s name. Now it’s you and him, no one else matters.

As he cums, he nuzzles his head into your neck, one of his hands caressing your soft hair as you’re both panting and desperately trying to catch your breath. He’s still inside of you and he doesn’t want to pull away.

He feels good in your embrace. It’s warm. It’s filled with your love and that’s the only thing he needs. Now and forever you’re the only one.

Rafayel stares at you for a few seconds and he drops a loving, gentle kiss on your lips. “You’re the only one I want.” He says softly and it brings an instant smile on your lips as you kiss him back.

“I love you.” He thinks but doesn’t say it, after all, there’s still plenty of time to make you feel his love.

A whole night. An entire life. Together always. That’s pretty much the only thing he’s sure of. Yeah. Together, always.

[chenlezip]

mark, la la land ♡

⤷ summary : when mark, a pianist, and y/n, an actress, follow their passion and achieve success in their respective fields, they find themselves torn between their love for each other and their careers.

annas note : the first movie and piece of writing for my lil fic series. i hope you all enjoy and enjoy who is next (renjun). i had a thought one night and had to write dreamies x fav movies. thank you to my wife for proof reading this first, you’re my biggest supporter 😭

next | masterlist

you always dreamt of being an actress, it was your biggest life goal. for the moment though - you worked as a barista at the cafe that regularly had actors come in. after a bad day at an audition, you immediately fell face first on your bed but.. you couldn’t stay in filthy clothes so you got a shower, looked at yourself in the mirror and your flatmates asked you about everything. they decided to force you out to a party, getting you dressed up prettily, saying you’ll ’find someone in the crowd.’

yet, you never found anyone in the crowd or they just didn’t find you — whatever it was, you felt very discouraged walking back in the middle of the night, groaning as you walked in your heels, gripping your purse. you let out a sigh, paying attention to the sound of a slow piano tune. you walked inside of a very nice looking restaurant, staring at who was playing. you felt like everything around you was drowned out as you paid attention to the tune and the man who was playing it.

said man — mark lee, was someone who loved jazz. he made his life around it, he had a specific route for his future but he got screwed over. he talked to his sister and never got through to her, just staring at his past due rent letter and sighing. he focused on his piano once again, relearning the chords to his favourite song. and here he was, in the restaurant once again after getting fired.

after focusing on playing christmas songs, he decided to play his favourite jazz song, a relaxing rhythm compared to how lively everything else was around him. he focused on the way his fingers slid over the right keys, immersing himself in his work.

“you’re fired.” “no- what you mean is play the setlist-“ “no, you’re fired. that’s what i mean.” “it’s christmas, come on, don’t fire me.”

“i see the decorations, you’re fired, good luck in the new year.”

mark stormed off, shoving past you. you had tried to speak to him, “i just want to say.. i heard you play and i-“ right. well. that went well.

SPRING.

a couple months had passed since that night. you’re at yet another party, your friend had invited you and you were interacting with a few people — hoping to get at least something from this one. you grabbed a drink, looking around at everyone who was around, paying attention to a band that was performing. you recognised the man in red, the man who was in the restaurant and stormed out shoving past your shoulder.

you were drinking. “alright. i remember you. i was an asshole - i can admit that- but requesting i ran from a serious musician is just too far.” “my lord- did you just say a serious musician?” you ask, tilting your head, “can i borrow what you’re wearing? just for.. an audition i have coming up, i need to play a serious firefighter.”

“what’s your name?” “yn.” “guess i’ll see you in the movies.”

after walking back from the party together, mark showed up at your work place. the warner brothers cafe. you rambled on about different things — how you worked just across from the windows that two characters from casablanca looked out of and that mark goes 5 miles toward a cafe near a jazz club.

you joined mark at the movies, seeming as you haven’t watched the movie he had referenced to you when he took you to a jazz club and rambled on about it. he was passionate.

you look over to him, your hand slowly moving over to his as you fight back a smile, feeling your hands intertwine. he leans over to you, about to kiss you before the film burns out. you both laugh, “i have an idea.” you mumble out as you find yourself on a night drive with him.

you head to an observatory, admiring the beautiful sights that were there, both in your own little worlds. there was so much to do, so much to see, and you felt comfortable having marks presence beside you. even though the two of you were so different, you both were passionate about wanting to get into your own line of work. him with jazz and you: an actress, could it possibly work? who knew but by the end of the day, you both shared a tender kiss.

you spent nearly everyday with mark, going out and about, sight seeing, going on cute dates. throughout the days though, you both shared thoughts of what you should do just to help each others projects out.

“maybe i should name it chicken on a stick?” “no no- name it mark’s.” “is that an apostrophe as a music note?” “yeah it is.”

he chuckled and shook his head, “that’s actually quite unique you know ? but i think i am going to name it chicken on a stick, and you’re going to make sure your play goes amazing.” he kissed your forehead.

fall comes and you and mark tried your best to make the relationship work, he made you a lovely dinner but he had to leave first thing in the morning. you both were getting busy, and you were terrified for your play while he was ecstatic after finding an amazing band to play in, one that he felt was great for him. he suggested for you to join him on tour.

“i have to rehearse..” “can’t you rehearse anywhere?” “anywhere you are?” you ask softly as you sigh, “it’s in two weeks and i don’t think that’ll be very good for me, i wish i could though.”

“when are you done? when are you finished with the tour?” “we finish, record and tour again..” you ask if it’s the long haul and then an argument happens between the two of you because the both of you taking each others words the wrong way. he says this is what you wanted for him and to have a steady job and of course you did want that for him, you wanted him to start his club and look after himself but he seemed like he didn’t want this sort of thing for himself.

things only took a worse turn, no one showed up to your show apart from close friends, not even mark showed up. you ended things, you got upset and went back home, where you really wanted to be just for some time away from doing what you wanted and away from mark.

five years later and winter has strolled around once again. you enter the cafe you used to work at, grabbing two coffees for yourself and your manager. the day soon ends and you suggest to your husband if he wants to grab dinner to which he complies with. you’re walking on the side of the pavement, until you hear loud jazz coming from a restaurant. “do you want to check it out?” he asked and you nodded, he lead you inside.

as soon as you enter the doorway, you recognise it as marks. the bright sign saying ‘mark’s’ with the design you had made for him one night in your eyesight. you enter further with your husband, feeling a little awkward sitting up front but you decided to get comfortable and take a sip of your drink.

mark, meanwhile, comes up on stage and introduces the males who have just performed a song. you both make eye contact in the crowd and he mutters, “welcome to mark’s.”

he stared at the piano in front of him before playing those same damn notes you’ve heard before but even slower and beautiful than you remember.. filled with such passion. it was like that day where you first met him in the restaurant he worked at, christmas decorations around the place as you walk over this time, before you can speak, mark engulfs you into a hug and a kiss. you go through the last memories you both shared together before things abruptly ended.

you thought about how different everything would be if you didn’t break up. the happy memories you could’ve shared — having a kid, going to jazz clubs together and sharing a drink, maybe just having mark by your side instead of your husband as you listen to the notes of the piano play. suddenly, you snap back to reality as everyone claps, you feel heartbroken. “we should go.” you whisper to your husband as you get up and slowly make your way out.

but before you leave, you turn around and share a soft gaze and smile with the man you had loved most.

tags : @injvns @polarisjisung @mejaemin @ayukas @hyckvr @yizhrt @blondemrk 

[riizegasm]

Helios || M.JH

❀ pairing: sunshine!jaehyun x librarian!reader, implied fem!reader (ft. coworker!sungho)

❀ genre: college!au, sun and moon dynamics, fluff, minor angst

❀ word count: ~4.7k

❀ warnings: explicit language, reader gets a little insecure, kissing, implied sexual content

❀ summary: Like Helios, the god of the sun, Myung Jaehyun is never shy on whom he sheds his light. In his brightness, though, you may find him illuminating something about you that you never knew.

❀ a/n: I feel like you can tell MyungJae is my bias from reading this fic alone. I absolutely adore him in this and I hope you do too! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are encouraged. Happy reading!

Myung Jaehyun has always been as bright as the midsummer sun. He has a smile that shines like a beacon of light through the darkness, constantly illuminating everyone’s day. His presence alone is enough to breathe life into everything around him, from dull classes to obnoxious parties. Everything is a bit brighter when Jaehyun is around. 

Which is why you’re confused that he’s talking to you. 

It’s not like you’re not a bright person, but you definitely don’t bring a sunshiny energy wherever you go. Your friends compared you more to the moon, a soft silvery halo of light that illuminates the darkness, but can still cloud everything in a bit of mystery. You’ve always been praised for your serenity and muted demeanor, even though you sometimes wish you could be more than just peaceful. You yearned to bring a lively energy to the lives of those around you, but for some reason, your calm nature always won out. 

You’re almost in awe at how Jaehyun speaks with a smile, words coming out a mile a minute at a volume that is definitely too loud for the library. You’re so used to everything being so quiet and unmoving here, which is why you chose it as your student work placement for college. But the energy Jaehyun brings to the space is more than you’ve ever encountered before. It borders on overwhelming, but for some reason is also oddly comforting. 

The comfort can only last so long before the confusion sets in, though. Seriously, why is Myung Jaehyun talking to you?

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt softly. “But can I help you with something, or…?”

If Jaehyun is offended by your obvious confusion, he doesn’t show it. His bright smile never once falters. 

“Yeah, sorry, I know the build up was kind of long, but can I have your number?”

Confusion only settles deeper into your face. “Wait, what?”

“I mean, it’s no pressure or anything. But, like I was saying, every time I come in here I always see you working and I think you’re really cute. So I wanted to see if I could get your number and maybe take you out sometime? I mean, only if you’re down for that.”

For once in your life, you’re struggling to remain calm. 

It’s not like Jaehyun is a celebrity or campus royalty or anything, but he’s just different. He’s clearly well liked and has a lot of friends, always surrounded by a group of people. That group more often than not includes swooning girls and guys alike, all making heart eyes at him in hopes that he’ll notice, or even better…reciprocate. 

But you’ve never been one of those swooning individuals. Jaehyun is clearly attractive, with his head of curly brown hair and pouty lips. His dimpled smile is enough to have anyone head over heels; you’re not immune to that. You have just chosen to admire him from afar, sneaking small glances when he’s in the library or craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him when you pass each other on campus. You pride yourself in being so subtle that Jaehyun has never seemed to pay you any mind, until now. 

“Am I being too forward?” Jaehyun asks, beginning to trip over his words. “Oh my god, is this workplace harassment. Y/N, I am so sorry. You are just trying to do your job and here I come being such a, such a man. Who even flirts with someone on the—.”

“You know my name?”

You can’t even process how you’ve cut the man off, mind too busy pondering how the hell Jaehyun knows who you are. But that confusion gets mirrored right back to you as Jaehyun cocks his head cutely. 

“You’re wearing a name tag.”

All of your blood rushes to your face at the realization that he’s right. You are required to wear your name tag everyday for your job, proudly displayed on your chest. If it’s true that Jaehyun has seen you here, he has seen you in your name tag countless times. 

“R-right. Sorry,” you stammer. 

Jaehyun just chuckles, face spitting into that contagious smile he always wears. “It’s fine! You’re just so cute. So, your number?”

“Weren’t you just worried about this being harassment?”

“Oh, fuck! Is it?” Jaehyun looks genuinely terrified at the thought. 

“No,” you chuckle. “It’s not. Give me your phone.”

You question your source of newfound confidence as Jaehyun hands over the device, watching intently as you type your number in. It’s only when you save the contact that Jaehyun smiles, seemingly thunderous in the quiet of the library. You’ve never been so thankful to work on the talking floor.

“Great,” Jaehyun smiles. “I’ll text you.”

Your “okay” sounds outlandishly soft in comparison to Jaehyun’s outspoken confidence. He’s practically beaming as he moves away, not breaking eye contact until he physically has to turn away. Once again, you find your cheeks overly hot to the touch despite the coolness of the library. The goosebumps on your arms definitely have everything to do with the temperature, and nothing to do with the image of a bright smile plastered in your memory. 

.         .         .

It’s just your luck that you would receive your first ever text from Myung Jaehyun during an exam. Your phone had been turned on silent, nestled in your bag for the entire two hours. It’s only when you’ve exited the lecture hall and are well on your way to getting your second coffee of the day do you remember to check your phone. You almost drop it on the pavement when you see the series of messages. 

Asking someone out on their shift is apparently not workplace harassment because I don’t also work there. 

I would know, I asked Google. 

Oh, this is Jaehyun btw :)

You have to bite your bottom lip in order to contain the smile that is blooming on your face. You swear your heart picks up speed, so much so you doubt you’ll need that second cup of coffee after all. Despite the chill of the winter air, your core suddenly feels warm, as if the thought of Jaehyun served as your own internal heater. 

You don’t respond until you make your way back to your apartment, a giddy pep in your step the entire way. It’s an odd feeling, to be so excited about a person. Your introverted nature often has you cowering away from taking bold chances on relationships. You’ve always felt that love is best when it comes like waves meeting a soft sand shore – with a gentle crash, but always expected.

But you can’t deny the fact that the unexpectedness of Jaehyun’s eager confession is exactly what makes it so enticing. So, you dive headfirst into uncharted waters.

Falling into a routine with texting Jaehyun is surprisingly easy. The man always has something to say, whether it be simple questions about how your day was or silly musings about the world around him. It’s not uncommon for him to send you pictures of his professors, followed by a picture of his pouting face, clearly bored in his long lectures. Although you’ve never been one to send pictures back, Jaehyun doesn’t protest or push, just accepting your responses as they come and responding to them with enthusiasm.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve enjoyed Jaehyun’s bright virtual presence until you get caught in the act.

“What’s got you so smiley?” Your coworker, Sungho, asks as he scans some newly returned books.

The smile that you had let so carelessly grace your face instantly falls, your usual mask of indifference making an appearance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sungho scoffs, a teasing smirk rising on his face. “Right…you definitely haven’t been smiling at your phone for the last hour instead of I don’t know, doing your job??”

Your reply dies on your tongue when you spot a familiar figure entering the library, just barely visible over Sungho’s shoulder. He’s with his usual group of friends, laughing at a volume that is definitely inappropriate for your setting. He seems to compose himself after a moment, scanning the space with his gaze.

When he finally spots you, his grin grows impossibly wider, eyes bright as they reflect the artificial fluorescence of the library. He mumbles something inaudible to his friends before heading in your direction, causing a slight zap of panic to travel up your spine.

“Y/N?” Sungho calls, waving a hand in front of your face. “Are you even listening to m–?”

“Hey,” Jaehyun interrupts softly, still smiling brightly. “Long time no see.”

Out of your periphery, you can see Sungho looking back and forth between you two. It takes a second before his expression of confusion melts into one of recognition. He nods slightly before backing away to return to scanning books, leaving you and Jaehyun behind.

“I thought you weren’t going to harass me at work anymore,” you tease, trying and failing to fight the grin creeping onto your face.

Jaehyun chuckles, a distinct sound that pierces through the relative quiet of the space. “And I thought that I told you I’d be back, since, you know, Google told me I could.”

There’s a moment of silence as you duck your head, once again attempting to calm the smile on your face and the flush no doubt coloring your cheeks. When you finally compose yourself enough to look up, you find that Jaehyun’s gaze has never left you, eyes shining with something you can’t quite put your finger on. Even his silence contains an energy that you’ve never felt before. It’s something more than a simple brightness, more akin to a magnetic pull that you can’t quite escape.

“Go out with me.”

It comes out as almost a command, not the typical request that you’ve yearned for. While you always imagined that this would be the next step after the few weeks of text exchanges, it still comes as somewhat of a surprise. Part of you wondered if Jaehyun was serious, or if this was some sort of concocted experiment to see if he could bring even the biggest introvert out of their shell.

You finally pinpoint what it is in his gaze that’s so different – openness. It’s the kind of genuine clarity that comes from being authentically yourself, from letting others see and experience the real you without a care in the world. You wonder if he could be the key that would open your tightly locked door, your perfectly curated facade of nothingness.

You decide to put the key in the lock and twist.

“Sure.”

The smile that you receive is blinding, much more intense than any expression you had ever seen on the man’s face. A fear of getting burned from his light twists knots in your stomach.

.         .         .

He picks you up at eight, just like he promised. He’s the perfect gentleman all night, offering his jacket when it gets cold, footing the bill at the tiny cocktail bar that you once mentioned you liked to frequent. He’s entertaining and engaging, spending the entire night telling you stories that have your stomach hurting from laughter. He walks you back to your apartment, leaving you with a soft kiss on your forehead and a promise that he’ll call.

So why do you feel like this?

Why does it feel like the ceiling is pressing down on you and that the gravity of the world is crushing your bones into a fine powder? Why won’t your heart slow down even as you lay stationary in your bed? Why is the gentle hum of your college town buzzing around you like a pesky fly, waiting for you to turn into something rotten so that it can feast on your flesh? Even the warmth of your favorite blanket feels like an oppressive heat.

You can’t help but replay the events of the night, scanning and scrutinizing every memory to identify where it went wrong. But every time you try, you come up empty handed.

It’s no easy feat to identify the wrongdoings of someone like Myung Jaehyun, of someone so objectively perfect and universally loved. He may laugh too loud or be too forthcoming with his feelings, but it’s impossible to see these aspects as anything other than endearing. He’s so open, so unapologetically himself, that you can’t help but adore the person he is.

So why does it feel wrong? Why does it feel like you’ve become an insect, lured into a brightly illuminated trap designed to kill you?

Even worse, when Jaehyun texts you, asking for another date the following weekend, why do you accept? Why do you feel the pleasant thrum of butterflies in your stomach the minute his name pops up on your phone screen?

Maybe it will be different this time. Maybe you’ll realize that Jaehyun is perfect and that you’ll be perfect together. It could have all been a fluke the first time, the product of a dip in adrenaline or a deep tiredness that always accompanies the winter months.

Jaehyun takes you ice skating this time, laughing as you both navigate the slippery chill of the rink. He holds your hand the entire time, clearly giddy to have this sustained contact. It doesn’t matter that you make him fall repeatedly, dragging him down any time you lose your balance. If anything, it makes him happier as you both fall into a giggly heap. You don’t even have the chance to worry about the judgemental stares you get as you trip and fall. You’re too busy being sucked into Jaehyun’s orbit to care.

This time, a forehead kiss serves as the prelude to the real thing. Jaehyun kisses in the same way he speaks, bold and eager. His hands cradle the dip in your waist reverently as he claims your mouth, no reservations as he holds you close. It’s captivating, the way he kisses you. You can’t help but get lost in the feeling of his plush pout against yours, in the heat of his tongue as it meets yours, in the warm press of his fingers into your skin.

Later, when your lips are still stinging and swollen from the kiss, you realize that a familiar ache has settled in your chest.

Once again, you find yourself replaying the events of the night to identify when you felt a shift. Once again, you can’t. You admittedly felt nothing but bliss the entire night, even if it was twinged with a minor unfamiliarity. It’s almost as if you were someone else when you were with Jaehyun. A different you inhabited your body when you were with him, someone that was sunshiny and bright, so far from the muted serenity that you closely identified with.

But when you look in the mirror, you still look like the same you. Your face is still the same, despite your slightly swollen mouth. Your hair still sits in the way you styled it before your date. Nothing drastic has changed about your body, or the way your clothes hug the planes of it.

You’re still you. When you’re with Jaehyun, however, you feel like anything but.

.         .         .

As you get to the point where Jaehyun feels comfortable openly embracing you on campus, you begin to identify a bit of the ache. Jaehyun can never take more than a few steps around the college green without someone calling his name or rushing to greet him. Every interaction is the same; Jaehyun greets them brightly, stopping to even hug or chat with a few. He’ll introduce you in that enthusiastic voice of his, making sure to squeeze your hand extra tight.

Every time, you’ll get the same look from the passerby.

It’s often a politeness mixed with a hint of confusion, some in obvious disbelief. Some disregard you completely, choosing instead to bat their eyelashes at Jaehyun as they shower him with compliments or requests to hang out. Jaehyun is polite and humble in his refusal, tugging you along as you part. The dirty looks that you receive in return are permanently branded into the back of your eyelids.

Their looks of silent judgement haunt you everywhere you go, following you into your lecture halls and in between the bookshelves at work. Imagined chatter swarms around your mind. Although, it’s not hard to imagine what they probably say about you, if they even decide to speak about you at all. 

What’s someone like that doing with someone like him?

“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to keep scanning that book for the eleventh time?” Sungho’s voice is calm but clearly pointed.

As your coworker for over a year, Sungho has become way too good at reading you. He picks up on all of the little things, the tiniest sighs you let out when you think no one is within earshot, the subtle slump of your shoulders when life gets too demanding, repetitive actions as your brain drifts off. You can’t even think to lie to the man, since he sometimes seems to know what you’re feeling better than you do. 

“Do you think Jaehyun and I are weird together?”

Sungho sighs, resting his hand on his cocked hip like an overly concerned mother. “I should have known it was about the boy,” he mutters. “No, I don’t think you and Jaehyun are weird together. Where is this coming from?”

You’re silent for a moment, trying to piece together your answer to the question. There’s a film reel that flashes through your mind, a compilation of all of your best times with Jaehyun. From laughs at the cocktail bar to bruising your knees at the ice skating rink, everything is overwhelmingly positive. The memories make your stomach sink. 

“No one says hi to me when I walk across campus.”

Sungho’s look of concern transforms into one of confusion, head tilting to the side as if seeing you from another angle will make your words make sense. Clearly, it doesn’t work.

“I mean, everyone says hi to Jaehyun, but no one even spares me a glance,” you explain. “They look all confused when Jaehyun introduces me, almost like they don’t understand why he would be with someone like me.”

“Someone like you? You mean a beautiful soul who balances out Jaehyun’s energy perfectly?”

The sudden compliment catches you off-guard, but Sungho instantly shuts down your attempt to interrupt. 

“No, no, no, let me finish. Y/N, you are amazing. Anyone who spends five minutes with you can see that. And who cares if most people on campus don’t know that? They don’t know you, and that’s okay. You don’t have to know everyone on campus, because that’s not you. And you know who sees you for you?”

“Who?”

“Jaehyun,” Sungho says with a soft finality. “Do you like spending time with him?”

You swallow thickly, a sudden wave of emotion tightening your throat. “Of course I do. He’s…he’s great.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“But what if he doesn’t think that I’m great?”

Sungho chuckles. “Have you seen the way he looks at you? Of course he thinks you’re great.”

The confidence behind his statement throws you for a loop, not because you don’t believe it, but because you truly haven’t thought about it. 

“Sungho, how does he look at me?”

Sungho is silent for a second, clearly mulling over his words. When he finds the right ones, his face brightens into a smile. 

“Like you’re the reason the sun rises every morning.”

.         .         .

You didn’t imagine that you’d be standing in front of Jaehyun’s door that very next evening, palms sweating and heart beating out of your chest. His dorm is in an old building, the thin walls allowing every sound to be heard. It seems like Jaehyun’s playing some soft music, but there are no voices to indicate anyone else being around. With a shaking fist, you knock on the door. 

The smile that greets you is faint but saccharine sweet, dripping with a genuine welcoming aura that only Jaehyun could manage. When he registers your presence, a hint of shock crosses his face, but the smile never once falters. 

“Y/N!” He exclaims warmly. “I didn’t know you were dropping by.”

You suddenly feel self conscious despite the man’s friendly tone. “Y-yeah, I just, uh…I wanted to talk.”

Jaehyun’s smile grows impossibly wider, its brightness burning a hole in your thoracic cavity. You imagine that your heart is attempting to leap right through it, to lay itself in a fleshy heap at Jaehyun’s feet. Knowing the man, he would simply scoop up the organ, tucking it somewhere safe before mopping up the blood. 

“Sure, come on in.”

The ease with which Jaehyun invites you in creates a new thread of anxiety that begins to fray in your brain. How does it all come so naturally to him? How is being so authentically himself not draining in the slightest? How can he face no fears in letting you in, letting you see him fully?

The answers lie within his dorm. The room is quite cramped, which is typical for a single dorm, but it’s filled to the brim with everything that makes Jaehyun himself. The curtains on the wall are a deep blue, dark enough to dampen some of the sunlight that his eastern facing window lets in. Every shelf is stacked high with trinkets and photos, each one contributing their own array of color to the space. It’s neat, but carefree. It’s standard, but personal. You envy Jaehyun’s knack for decorating.

“Come sit,” Jaehyun motions, patting a spot next to him on the bed. “Can I get you anything?”

At your lack of response, Jaehyun looks perplexed, smile finally dropping from his face. His cheeks naturally puff out into a pout, plush lips turning downward. 

“Y/N, is something wrong?”

It takes everything in you to not submit to his expression and the concerned lilt in his voice and go back on everything you set out to say. Instead, you steel your nerves as you sit, ready to say everything that has been heavy on your heart. 

“Everyone says hi to you.”

Okay, so maybe not the best start. 

“I mean that everyone says hi to you and it can be kind of weird for me,” you continue. “Everyone just looks at me like we don’t go together, like I don’t deserve you or something. I mean, don’t you think you should be with someone a little more outgoing, a little more popular?”

There’s a moment of silence, intensified by your baited breath. Jaehyun just regards you curiously, rounded nose twitching like a perplexed bunny. After a second, the man bursts into full bellied laughter. 

“Y/N, are you serious?”

A stinging heat rises to your cheeks, an embarrassment you have never known before surfacing the longer Jaehyun chuckles. The man seems to sense his mistake after a moment, his peaks of laughter settling into a warm smile instead. 

“Hey, look at me.”

It takes everything in your power to comply to Jaehyun’s request, cheeks only heating further when you return his gaze. His eyes seem to sparkle under the artificial fluorescence of the dorm room lighting, highlighting the endless depths of his irises. You begin to understand why people write anthologies on their lovers’ gazes. 

“Fuck them.” At your obvious confusion, Jaehyun chuckles, but continues. “Seriously, fuck them. Y/N, I like you. I couldn’t care less about who knows you or who you know or what randoms on campus think.”

“B-but you’re so loud and boisterous and personal and I’m just…not.”

Jaehyun’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he chuckles again, full cheeks beginning to take on a pinkish hue. “And that’s what I like about you. You’re more reserved; you’re smart; you make me laugh like no other. When I first spoke to you in the library, I meant every word I said. I didn’t like you because I thought you were like me. I like you because you’re you.”

The words rush over you like a bucket of ice water. Maybe it’s the calm, soothing tone of Jaehyun’s voice, or the way his eyes shine with an unforeseen sincerity that makes you realize that he means it. Your mind had always fixated on the fact that Jaehyun liked you despite your differences, never once considering the fact that he liked you because of them. 

“You mean it?” You hate the way your voice comes out thin and small, as if needing to be built up by Jaehyun’s reassurance. 

The man in question just smiles, leaning forward to caress your cheek. It’s instinctual, the way you nuzzle further into his touch. If anything, he seems even more pleased by your subconscious action, thumb stroking the height of your cheekbone. 

“Of course I mean it. I’ve meant everything that I’ve ever said to you.”

“Even that you like me?”

Jaehyun barely contains a snort. “Especially that I like you.”

The room is still for a moment, the only movement coming from the rhythmic stroke of Jaehyun’s fingers over your cheekbone. It’s easy to get lost in the tiny space, in the even tinier moment. You and Jaehyun are the only beings to exist here, the only witnesses to your closeness being the various figurines strewn across the dorm room. 

“You know,” Jaehyun starts after the moment. “I was going to ask you something for our next date, but I think I should just ask you now.”

Now it’s your turn to fall into confusion, brows knitting at the man’s confession. “Ask me what?”

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

In the abstract, you should have seen it coming. He just spent the last few minutes assuring you that he likes you, and after a few dates, this would be the logical next step. And yet, surprise hits you like a tidal wave, completely throwing you off kilter. 

“Girlfriend?”

Jaehyun chuckles, cheeks dimpling with the force of his smile. “Yes, girlfriend. I want you to be mine.”

Your tiny “me too” is barely out before Jaehyun is surging forward. His kiss hits you like a zap of electricity, sending signals flying up your spine. It’s much different from the first time he kissed you a few weeks ago, after you had both been tired and frozen to your core from the ice skating rink. 

Back then, he kissed you like he was trying to warm you up. Now, he’s kissing you like he wants to melt you. 

His hands stroke up the length of your thigh and hip, reminding you just how not ideal this position is. Sitting side by side while your necks crane towards each other is far from comfortable. But the warmth of Jaehyun’s palm against the fabric of your pants combined with the feverish way his lips claim yours makes any complaint you’d have die on your tongue. 

You learn that Jaehyun is the exact opposite type of lover than you expected. Instead of energetic and demanding, he’s calm and reassuring. His touch is reverent as it explores the planes of your body, taking you apart as if you have all the time in the world. His body meets yours in a rhythmic crash of waves against shores, pace increasing as you both crest to your highest peak, just for the waves to come crashing down again. 

It’s only when it’s over, and the two of you lay side by side in the cramped twin XL bed that you realize Jaehyun is far from the sun. He doesn’t burn you, nor does he drain your energy like evaporating water from a pavement. 

Instead, he provides an all consuming comfort, the kind of warmth that comes from a campfire in the crisp chill of winter. He wraps around you and protects you from the harshness of the elements. He’s a space of relaxation, ease, a pulsing love that grows stronger with each blow of the wind. He’s a different kind of serenity. 

A campfire only burns bright under the dark cover of night, the calm glow of the moon shining down on it all. For once, you allow yourself to get as close as you’d like, knowing that Jaehyun’s fire will never burn you. 

.FIN.

[stressed-sock]

hi hello it's a small ghost fire au art dump \o/

some of y'all have seen these already but whatever lol ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ no longer gatekeeping at least xD

anywho, some infodumping here as well under the cut! establishing who's what and so on :D there are some differences from what i've said in older posts for this au bc this is very much still in the works lol

i'm definitely down for suggestions for characters and plot ideas btw!

to give some background info, this au's world is pretty much like our own but with yokai thrown into the mix. some interact with (and/or are malicious towards) humans, so a government agency was formed to document them, with specially trained agents to subdue/defeat yokai causing trouble.

this is where raidou comes in! officially, he's one of those agents that do documentation. unofficially, he also helps defeat yokai because they hate him especially for whatever reason. he's a bit of a yokai magnet, if you will. half-thought-out plot right there but we might get back to that eventually. he can also spot yokai even if they're purposefully staying hidden, which is partially why he's so good at his job.

anywho, part of raidou's current team is kakashi! kakashi is from a long line of powerful exorcists, and his left eye has the ability to pinpoint yokai weaknesses, among other things. said eye also lends a little more power to his talismans and charms so yay for that. obito and rin are still alive in this au, but sakumo isn't, with mysterious circumstances surrounding his death. another half-thought-out plot right there.

next, part of raidou's former team was genma! genma used to work with raidou as a fellow documentation agent, going more into initial scouting/assessing than actual recording. unfortunately (as you could probably tell from the art and fics involving this au), he's not quite alive anymore (rip). it was initially assumed that he'd disappeared on a one-off solo mission, but after his body was discovered washed up on a beach, he was declared officially dead. now he's a funayurei (ghosts of those that died at sea) - i originally had him as a shiranui (a type of onibi (demon fire/wil o' wisp) found on a sea i forgot the name of) bc of his last name but i think this works out a little bit better - he just has a pair of hitodama (onibi-like things that are basically kind of like a yurei's (ghost's) soul detached from the body) hovering around, to give a similar vibe haha. depictions of yurei are typically white clothes, long black hair, etc. etc. but i did read that they can appear in the clothes they died in, so i'm going with that. but hey on another note - now that they're reunited, genma's back on the yokai documentation grind. just. as a yokai himself xD

anywho, these two have been the most consistent in raidou's team. he has definitely worked with other agents before, but those agents were more like specialists assigned for specific missions. more on that eventually.

izumo and kotetsu don't really fit into any of the categories i've described so far. they're two among many undercover agents established all over the country, often in somewhat more remote areas, responsible for reporting yokai threats in their assigned sectors. izumo and kotetsu specifically are undercover as convenience store employees, with said convenience store also working as a safe house. any agents assigned to that area can restock supplies/weapons, get some rest, or establish contact with hq. and like i said in previous posts about them, they are able to deal with yokai to a certain extent. not powerhouses by any means, but they can usually hold their own until reinforcements arrive. izumo favors talismans and dart guns that usually contain a tranquilizing substance. kotetsu, meanwhile, favors larger bladed weapons (and ofc they're both proficient in other weapons xD) as such, they're a good combo of long range and close combat

overall, the jounin would probably be the higher-ranking all rounders, tokubetsu jounin would be the specialists, and chuunin would be the undercover agents i mentioned earlier. as for anbu, they'd probably be the ones dealing with large scale threats. ofc there are exceptions, especially those at the agency headquarters. (this is def formatted similarly to canon xD)

moving on to the yokai! while i have done research, this definitely isn't fully fleshed out yet. here's what i do have though!

hayate and yugao: the two are a pair of sword and scabbard tsukumogami, which are yokai generally agreed to be objects that have gained life and sentience after reaching 100 years of age. they busted out of a museum ages ago and have since lived together, passing relatively well as normal people. i will admit i took artistic liberties though; most art i've seen of tsukumogami look distinctively more like the objects they used to be. for my own sanity i've made them more humanoid xD

anko: she is a bakeneko, a type of mischievous cat yokai that is sometimes said to come from cats that became yokai after being raised for a certain number of years (exact number varies) or to exact revenge against cruel humans. i don't have much else on her so that's about it for now :3

and uh. that's all i have actually. i thought i had more tbh but oh well. like i said before - feel free to give suggestions, ideas, or questions! and if you made it this far, thanks for reading :3

link to fic series ^still vaguely shy abt this lol (also provides context for the first two images o7)

oh and speaking of context, the third image (bright blue background) is for another vague plot line i haven't talked about yet. maybe more on that later.

[beaconfeels]

@lucky-bishop said I could say they tagged me in a WIP whenever thing, so I am. I’ve been working on a lot of different things at once lately. One of these days at least one of them is bound to get done, right? Have a snippet from a shorter Steter fic:

Peter, surprisingly, doesn’t come through the window. He comes through Stiles’s bedroom door shortly after his last text.

“How’d you get in here?” Stiles asks. He’s tired enough that he has a moment of wondering if he somehow let Peter in and then forgot.

Peter holds up a keyring with a bunch of keys hanging off it. “You’re not the only one who gets their hands on keys,” he says.

“What?” Stiles hisses, trying to keep his voice low so he doesn’t disturb his dad. “How long have you had those?”

“Oh, a few years,” Peter says vaguely.

“A few years?”

“Yes,” Peter replies.

“Before we were friends,” Stiles says after some calculation.

“Oh Stiles, we’ve always been friends, haven’t we?”

“I think you’re forgetting about the times you tried to kill me!” Stiles whisper-shouts.

Peter actually looks affronted at that. “Name one time I tried to kill you.”

“That night at the school,” Stiles answers immediately.

Peter actually has the audacity to scoff. “I wasn’t trying to kill you, you just happened to be there. Sticking your little nose into everything, like you always do.”

He boops the end of Stiles’s nose when he says that last part, and Stiles’s mouth drops open. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?” Peter asks, shrugging, “I’m simply telling the truth.”

“Sure. You never tried to kill me. Right.”

“Sweetheart, if I had wanted to kill you, I had plenty of chances, not the least of which was when I had you all to myself in that parking garage.” He grabs Stiles’s wrist in a light grip and moves it toward his own mouth. His blue eyes look straight at Stiles. “Remember?”

Stiles’s heartbeat goes crazy then. He can feel it thrumming beneath Peter’s fingers. It’s partly a fear response, partly something he’s not going to look at too hard right now. He jerks his wrist away, just like he did that night. “I remember.”

“And you don’t think I could have killed you if I’d wanted to?”

Stiles sighs in frustration. “You do realize this is an insane conversation, right? This is not normal. I’m considering taking back the friend thing.”

“Are you going to break up with Scott then? Because I seem to remember that he literally tried to kill you.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re giving me a headache.” He’s not even lying, his head is starting to hurt.

“Truce?” Peter asks. He actually looks apologetic, like maybe he’s worried Stiles is going to take away his friendship status.

“Fine,” Stiles says. After all, in this life he’s living, holding the past over each other’s heads would dissolve the pack in no time. They’ve only survived as long as they have because they’ve fought for each other, even with all the mistakes they’ve all made.

[stargirlygirl]

their omega

જ⁀➴ chapter six: turmoil

alpha! bakugou, kirishima, denki, sero x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — angst, hurt/comfort, hanta marks you, deku appearance, smau + fic, 4.4k words

m.list

a/n: '🌽⭐️s' gc from denki's pov + texts to hanta from your pov + sorry for how choppy the different texts are, i wrote them at the same time

fic underneath smau

When you return to the house, pharmacy paper bag in hand with Hanta’s rut suppressants, you see that the front door is ajar. You push it open and gently close it behind you. After removing your shoes, you head to the entrance hall.

Your eyes are peeled for your alpha. His scent is overpowering. It fills your lungs with every inhale you take. You’re unable to tell where it��s coming from, where he might be. You call out his name and soon, you hear footsteps thudding on the wooden floors, drawing closer to you. You turn around.

Hanta skids to a halt. He’s panting and sweat is dripping down his brow. You notice that he’s in a loose pair of sweatpants, no shirt. You avert your eyes from his sweat-drenched muscles and hand him the pharmacy bag.

He snatches it from your grasp with a breathless “Thank you”. You watch as he tears the bag open and fumbles with the annoying white lid on the orange jar. Taking it off, he brings the jar to his lips and tilts his head back, pouring a few of the pearly pills into his mouth.

Instinctively, you reach out to him but stop short. You say, “Hanta, be careful! You could overdose.” He dry swallows the pills before roughly screwing the lid back on the bottle. He sighs and shuts his eyes, squeezing them tight. You take the bottle from him, your fingertips brushing his ever so slightly, which sends shivers up your spine.

You walk around him, towards his room as you say, “I’ll just put these in your draw, okay?” He follows you like a lost puppy and keeps a short distance between you.

Once you enter his room, his scent overwhelms you. You stop at the door, frozen on the spot. A whine escapes your throat. You look behind you to see Hanta standing close to you, his bare chest almost brushing your back. You gaze into his dark eyes, a pout on your lips.

He grunts, “I know.” He grabs the bottle from your hand and moves around you, heading into his room. You linger by the door, observing him. The sunlight filters through the window and catches on the rippling contours on his back.

The mere sight of him like this, the way his scent surrounds you, and even his voice threaten to do something to you. The omega in you makes you whine again as you see his muscles flex while opening the draw.

You shift uncomfortably under his stare as he comes back over to you. As soon as you’re within reach, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into him. The force of his pull makes you gasp as you collide with his chest. Your hands press against his damp pecs as he holds you tight, face buried in the crook of your neck. You whine in his ear, making him growl. The chesty vibration turns your legs to jello, making you wrap your arms around his toned torso as you struggle to hold yourself up.

“Just stay with me, yea?” He murmurs into your ear. You nod as your hand finds the back of his neck and rubs the sweaty skin there.

For the next little while, Hanta holds you. He prays earnestly that soon, the rut suppressants will take effect. It requires every last bit of his strength to just hold you and not do anything more. Unfortunately, he can’t stop thinking of all the other things he would rather be doing with you right now. His self-control is teetering on the edge, about to snap any moment. He’s silently begging you to stay quiet as even a gasp from you could send him into oblivion.

He squeezes you even tighter, causing you to yelp into his ear. He groans, hands sliding down from your back to harshly grip your hips. He growls into your neck, “You should go.”

You shake your head and whisper into his ear, “I can’t leave you like this.”

He chuckles harshly as he says, “If you know what’s for your own good, you will.” You shake your head again and press your body closer to his, drawing out a low groan from his throat.

You know you’re playing with fire. Choosing to stay with him when you should be running might result in you getting hurt. But what you said was true. For some reason, you can’t leave him. You feel compelled to remain by his side.

You draw in a sharp breath as you feel his lips press against your neck; a soft kiss. You mewl out his name as one kiss turns to a shower of them raining down the length of your neck. At the feeling of his lips brushing your scent gland, you moan and tilt your head back. He kisses the sensitive skin, causing emotions — foreign — to course through your veins. You yelp out his name as his hot tongue darts out across your warm flesh. The cool air running over the spot sends shivers tingling down your spine.

He continues to lap at your scent gland like a depraved man. He takes a little nip at the tender skin, causing your head to snap back. Your nose-tip is against his hair and hot breath ghosts his moist forehead. You whine out his name as your hands squeeze his shoulders.

He keeps one arm wrapped tight around your hips, steadying you, as his other hand trails up your body. Over your stomach, between your breasts, and finally, it snakes up your neck. His grasp is gentle, with no pressure on your neck.

He tips your head back and keeps his hand there as he nips at your scent gland again. You moan at the sensation as both of your hands intertwine in his black locks. You hear him curse into your skin, his lips pressed flush against the spot. Momentarily, he remains still as he contemplates.

At this point, you’re panting. Your chest heaves up and down, and you can feel the erratic pace of your heartbeat. You lick your dry lips and close your eyes, doing your best to calm down in these few moments of reprieve.

You can tell it’s over when you feel Hanta’s fingertips press into the side of your neck. His hand manoeuvers your head even further back while his tongue drags across your skin from your collarbone to your jaw. The cool wetness left behind makes you moan.

And then, you scream out.

Hanta’s teeth sink deep into your scent gland. Red pools around the wound, a line forming around where his lips meet your skin. He sucks as he bites, tongue swirling and tasting that metallic taste of your blood.

Your hands are back on his shoulders, trying feebly to push him off you, only for him to tighten his grasp on you. The pressure of his hand on your neck increases and all you can feel is pain. Tears well in your eyes and fall onto your cheeks as you yelp and cry.

Suddenly, pleasure unlike any other floods your senses and transforms you into a moaning mess. You are floating. No longer grounded to this plane of existence, you drift along waves of peace and ecstasy. You can’t hear yourself anymore. You are high above it all. Fairy floss clouds tickle your toes as the sun’s heat permeates your untethered body.

Hanta pulls away, ripping you out of unexplored spaces in your mind. Your blood coats his tongue, staining it red as it stains his lips and dribbles down his neck. Your mind is foggy and your eyes are unfocused.

You can’t hear Hanta calling out to you, and you barely notice what’s happening around you as he carries you to his bed. He sets you down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He then leans over you and calls your name again, hoping you’ll give him some sign of consciousness.

You shake your head to the side as your eyes close. As the fuzziness dwindles, you’re left with pain radiating from your scent gland. You groan as your brow creases. Hanta’s hand envelops your shoulders and gives you a little shake.

With your eyes still closed, you grumble, “What?” You hear him curse before you feel the press of his body against yours.

His lips brush your ear as he whispers, “You scared the fucking shit out of me, do you know that?” You nod weakly, and he continues, “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t know what came over me. You alright?” You hum in response as your hands gently rub his upper back.

You murmur, “Lay with me.” He hums in response and shifts to lay beside you. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his chest. Your head rests in the crook of his neck. You breathe his scent in and out, sighing in relaxation. His fingers push your hair back to leave your fresh mark untouched.

You two snuggle into each other, his warmth and soft murmurs sending you into a deep sleep.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

You wake up to the sound of yelling. The angry shouts blare in your ears as you groan. You turn over as your eyes scrunch and then open. You notice that it’s dark out and you’re alone. You get up and leave Hanta’s room, following the loud noises to the living room.

You stop short, just lingering behind the ajar screen door. Peering inside, you notice Katsuki jabbing his finger into Hanta’s chest while Eijiro and Denki watch from the couch.

“DID YOU FUCKING THINK, TAPEFACE?! WHAT’RE WE GONNA DO KNOW, EH?” Katsuki shouts. Tch. The angry blond steps back as he glares daggers into Hanta. As much as you want to watch from your comfy spot, you know that they’ll realise you’re there soon. You push the door open and all eyes flicker to you. You close the door behind you and meet their gazes with a gulp.

Katsuki makes a beeline to you. He grabs your forearm and pulls you into his chest. As you crash into him, his hand is already on your jaw and he pushes your head back and to the side. His grip is firm but not painful. You can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves. Hearing his little grunt, you whine.

You don’t see it, but Eijiro comes up behind Katsuki to observe your mark. And soon, all of the boys are crowding around you. You whine again, this time louder. You don’t enjoy them staring, examining you like a rare artefact.

You mumble, “Is it bad?”

Katsuki grunts out, “No.” He lets go of your jaw and grabs your wrist.

He drags you out of the living room saying, “Have a look yourself.” He forces you into the bathroom and flicks the light on, making you squint. His hands grasp your shoulders as he positions you in front of the mirror.

You take in your dishevelled appearance from having just woken up. And then you notice the wound on your scent gland. For a better view, you lean forward and tilt your head to the side. Instinctively, your hands come up to touch it but you’re stopped by Katsuki grabbing your wrists in one of his hands.

You glance at him briefly before looking back at your reflection. There’s dry blood covering and dripping from the mark. Despite being bitten a few hours ago, it’s already scabbed.

You can see Katsuki’s crimson eyes burning into you. You gaze at him in the mirror, taking in his familiar frown.

You say quietly, “I need to wash it.” He drops your wrists and grabs a nearby towel. You shift back as he wets a patch with warm water. He then grumbles at you to stay still as he gently wipes the blood away.

You notice your other alphas lingering by the door, whispering to each other. Eijiro gives you a thumbs-up when he catches your gaze. You nod slightly and watch as he shifts back behind the screen and whispers something.

Katsuki pulls away and starts rinsing the towel in the sink. You look back at yourself in the mirror, seeing how the scabs pull taut and relax with your movements.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you say. You place a hand on his bicep. It’s like your touch sends a jolt of electricity through him the way he flinches.

“S’fine,” he mumbles. He wrings out the towel and throws it over his shoulder. You pout as he steps back, your hand falling from his scarred skin.

You look up at him with doe eyes, saying, “Are you mad, Suki?” Tch. He looks away from you toward the door. You motion with your hand to Denki, who’s hovering by the door, to come in. Tanned fingers wrap around the door frame and push it back as Denki shifts in, revealing Eijiro and Hanta.

Hanta mouths to you as he points at his neck, “You okay?” You nod.

“So,” you start.

All is quiet for a few moments until Katsuki grumbles, “Do you like it?” You make a confused noise.

“Like it? The mark?” You question.

“’Course the fucking mark,” Katsuki says harshly as he rolls his eyes. You fold your arms beneath your chest as you turn to him. But he avoids your gaze and chooses to death stare at the sinktop instead.

You pout and say, “Don’t be a dick to me. Yes, I like the mark. It’s fine?” You shift as you speak, looking at the other boys. Hanta sighs and comes up to you.

He rests back on the sink as he says to you sheepishly, “It’s really okay?”

You nod enthusiastically. “It’s fine. What’s the big deal?”

Maybe the post-mark seriousness hasn’t hit you yet. This is a big deal. You, like all other omegas, have dreamed of the day you would find an alpha you loved and become their mate. Whether that’s a good thing… You’ve always looked forward to it.

Even if you haven’t wanted the traditional domestic life of an omega in the past, you’ve wished for your mate every single day. And now that it’s happening, you are unbothered by Hanta being your mate.

Hanta stares at you with wide eyes as you shrug and continue, “I mean, it’s not like I have a choice, right? You kind of own me.”

A groan from beside you catches your attention. Katsuki grunts out, “Mating has nothing to do with ownership.” He stalks closer to you and comes chest-to-chest with you as he continues, “Denki might have paid for you but that doesn’t make you my mate.” You whimper at his words, the harshness taking you off guard.

Quickly, Eijiro squeezes between you two. He faces you and clarifies, “What Bakubro means is that you don’t have to mate with us just because of your circumstances.”

You shake your head with furrowed eyebrows. You say confused, “But isn’t that the whole point of buying an omega? To mate and breed them?” Tch.

Eijiro shoots Denki a look before gazing back at you and saying, “Did Denki not explain?”

“Explain what?” You say, looking between the two. Denki’s blush doesn’t go unnoticed.

Eijiro sighs before saying, “Okay. Don’t be mad but Denki purchased you by accident.” Your mouth falls open from the sheer shock those words instil into you.

Denki chimes in, “I was drunk! That’s why Tsukauchi was here. I’m doing undercover work in Shibuya and I was at an omega auction and I got drunk and I bought you and that’s illegal obviously and—”

“So then what?” You cut him off. “You just… went along with it? All of you?” You stare at them in turn before walking up to Denki.

Your jaw is tense and glare killer as you yell at him, “So you lied to me? You didn’t feel any kind of sympathy for me?! You could have just told me the truth from the start! Taken me to the station or whatever. I could be home right now!” You can feel the tears well in your eyes as your voice quietens and becomes shaky.

“But I can’t now. I-I can’t. I’m s-tuck with-with all of you. I—” You choke back a sob. In that moment, Denki’s heart shatters in two as he stares into your eyes and sees you fall apart. He goes to wrap his arms around you but you shake your head and tell him no.

“Please,” he coos softly. You shake your head and dash out of the bathroom. You hear them call out for you but you don’t care. You rush to the front door, yank it open, and dart out, not bothering to take anything with you (not even your phone gasp). You slip out the gate and sprint down the street.

At this moment, you could care less where you go or what happens to you, you just have to get away. You run for what feels like forever (which in reality, is like five minutes).

By the time you stop, you’re doubled over, huffing and puffing heavily. The moment of cardiovascular rest has tears welling up in your eyes. You choke on your sobs as they overwhelm you. You’re lost in a foreign country, shocked and sad and winded. You swerve down the footpath, crying and looking for a place to pour out your heart.

Luckily, you spot a park up ahead. You stalk over to it and plant yourself down on an isolated bench. You rest your elbows on your knees, face in your hands, as you sit there and sob. Your pain is unlike any other. The pain of losing something you didn’t know you lost. That you haven’t really lost. A passing opportunity. A different decision. If only the truth had come to light sooner…

You cried over the ‘what ifs’. But the damage has been dealt. You’re bonded to that alpha now, to all of them sooner or later.

You had resigned yourself to enjoy this new life of yours, forced into complacency by the lie of ‘this is what you were bought for, this is what was expected of you’. To find out that a bunch of jerks were just fucking around and finding out was soul-crushing. Your purchase was a mistake.

So, you asked yourself, was all of this, therefore, a mistake?

Up until now, it all seemed genuine. All of the moments you spent together, the level of care the boys showed you, all of it had felt sincere. You refused to believe that it wasn’t. But Katsuki was right, mateship is different.

Being their mate is different to being owned by them. To be their mate is much more intimate. Is that something you want? You don’t know.

You continue to cry all alone, under the park lights as you contemplate everything you’ve learnt and everything that’s passed. It’s when the moon rises higher in the sky and the night air begins nipping at your skin that you become painfully aware of how much you don’t want to stay out tonight. But how can you return?

In another outburst of tears (this is the nth tonight), you don’t notice a tall, well-built man walking up to you.

“Um, Miss.” You look up and lock eyes with a green pair. They stare at you with concern. You sniffle and blink away your tears, hand wiping your nose and eyes.

He clears his throat and asks, “Is everything alright?” You nod frantically, noticing his green jumpsuit and refreshing scent.

He gazes at you with a small smile, saying, “Everything doesn’t look alright. Can I?” He points to the spot beside you on the bench. You hum in response, the sound weighed down by your sorrow. You take a deep breath in as he sits down next to you, desperately trying to calm yourself.

“Sorry for prying, Miss…”

“L/n,” you say, staring at him. He repeats your last name, feeling the foreign word in his mouth.

He continues, “It’s just, uh…” He smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck, looking away for a moment before gazing back at you. You sniffle, waiting for him to keep speaking.

“You uh, smell like some heroes I know. And you’re marked. Is everything okay?” He asks. His tone is gentle and his voice fairly quiet — he’s afraid of making you cry again.

You shake your head before really looking at him. Curly green hair, vibrant green eyes, sweet freckles peppering his nose and cheeks, and pale. You feel a sense of deja vu.

Your voice is thick as you say, “D-do I k-know you? Wha-what’s your n-name?” He smiles softly and you get a brief glimpse at those pristine whites.

“My name is Midoriya, but you might know me by my hero name ‘Deku’.”

Deku…

“Oh!” You say. You point at him as you explain, “I know you. You-You’re on the r-rut calendar.” He laughs and it soothes your nerves.

“I am?” He asks with a raised brow. You nod, sniffling.

“Y-yea,” you mutter. “K-Katsuki talks about you-you sometimes.”

“Ah,” Midoriya says knowingly. He grins at you as he continues, “I’ve heard about you too. You’re his omega, right?”

You look away from him and swallow back a fresh set of tears. “Some-thing l-like that,” you whisper. Midoriya watches as you sniffle and try so hard to hold it all in. He knows it’s not his place to get involved, but he can’t help but feel curious about you, and sorry that you are so upset.

“Something happen between you too?” Broccoli boy asks. You shake your head, attempting to shake away the sadness that question sparks in you. He says carefully like he’s treading on eggshells, “Kacchan’s my friend. If he’s bothering you, then maybe I can help offer some perspective or advice.”

You whimper as you choke on your sob. You tilt your head downward as your tears flow uncontrollably. You cry for a little before coughing it up. You tell Midoriya everything and I mean EVERYTHING. From what happened to you during your kidnapping — that you haven’t told anyone — to when you were sold to Denki and everything that has occurred since. You didn’t intend to divulge so much of your personal life to him, but as soon as you started, you couldn’t stop.

You sniffle as you say, “S-sorry. I’m r-really so-sorry for talk-talking t-too mu-ch. I-I just need-need a f-friend.” Midoriya rubs gentle circles on your back as you sob, hunched over your knees.

He hums and says, “It’s okay, so don’t apologise. I’m sorry that all of this has happened to you. It’s okay to let it out. I’m here. And being Kacchan’s omega automatically makes you my friend, okay?” You laugh sadly as you cry even harder.

You two stay like that until you have no tears left. By now, the crisp night air has you chilled to the bone. You’re shivering as you calm down, your lips pressed together hard to stop your teeth from chattering. Midoriya notices the goosebumps cascading across your skin and your trembling.

He suggests, “Why don’t you come back to my place tonight?” You look at him with glassy eyes, and it takes everything within him to refrain from ‘awwing’ at how cute you look with that red-tipped nose.

“Rea-lly?” You say sombre.

He nods and says, “Yea. I’ll text Kacchan and let him know you’re with me once we get back.” You hum in response and let him help you stand up. He keeps a warm, muscular shoulder wrapped around your shoulders as he leads you out of the park and down the street. The lamplights illuminate the softness of his features as he gazes down at you every so often.

You’re not dumb. You know about stranger danger. But you’ve seen this man on a calendar and heard your alphas speak of him occasionally (mainly Katsuki, of course). You know that you can trust him to keep you safe. That’s his job, right?

Soon, you two reach his car and he drives you to his apartment complex. He guides you inside and up to his apartment. After fumbling with his keys, he unlocks the door and leads you inside. It’s cosy, you think. But his scent is so strong. You had an inkling he was an alpha from his pro-hero status, but coming into his home, you knew it for sure.

He chuckles nervously from behind you, “Sorry for the mess.” You shake your head and reassure him that it’s fine. You walk around the living room, admiring his furniture and the bookshelves before plopping down on the couch. He asks you if you’ve eaten and you tell him you haven’t.

Once he’s changed out of his hero costume into something more comfortable, he starts making dinner for both of you. You ask him if you can help, but he shakes his head at you and reassures you that he’ll take care of things. He makes you omurice, a dish you’ve never had before.

You smile happily as you take a bite, giggling and telling him how good it tastes. Your compliments cause pink to dust the apples of his cheeks. The sight makes you giggle even more and you tease him for how easy it is to make him blush. He laughs with you and lets you tease him; he likes seeing you smile.

That night, you sleep in his room while he sleeps on the couch. As you stare up at the ceiling, you can’t help but feel the stares of the bajillion All Mights surrounding you. They peer at you intensely, that grin stretched wide across his face.

Spending time with Midoriya was a breath of fresh air amid your emotional turmoil. You feel lighter and freer after speaking with him. To be away from the boys for a short while feels so good.

This small taste of separation is sparking ideas in you. Ideas about putting yourself out there. Sure, your daily walks are a nice break, but maybe you could start doing the grocery shopping or going to workout classes. You could even make some friends.

The boys just want you to be happy, you know that much. You don’t think they would be against the idea of you getting out there, as long as it’s safe.

Lots of things have been on your mind tonight. Lots of emotions were felt. You sigh and close your eyes, somehow falling into a deep sleep.

taglist - @qyuin @nervoussangel @xxdiaqiaoxx @misscaller06 @kksmush @cielito--lindo @kennygou @tnywabbit @ita606

[percyweasleyapologist]

hi so i've been trying to find out more about audrey cos i haven't been able to find her anywhere. google says she's a witch/muggle (different sources) who married percy and had two kids with him, but is only mentioned in a couple of spinoffs. however that may be wrong, can you tell me what you know about her (canon/fanon/hcs, whatever)

yeah sure!

so there's not much in canon, all we know is that she married percy, that's it. most of my sources of her comes from fanon (mostly tumblr and my brain)

so how i imagine her is in two different ways.

one:

hufflepuff

half-blood

cedric's cousin

white

last name: diggory

dark blonde wavy-ish hair, usually in a bun

mother figure of the group

(i've also seen punk audrey which i thought was cool)

very sweet

childhood friends with percy

pansexual

two:

half blood

last name: xu

asian

slytherin

slightly insane

ocd

either super strict or really rebellious (no in-between)

lesbian

and then i've also seen for later in life, either they're divorced, or she died from child birth. I rarely ever see her and percy together in those fics. (tho for divorce, they're still good friends and super great co-parenting)

also i rarely ever think of her as just one. most of the times its combos of the two versions

so yeah!!! that's my observations of audrey, but you may also wanna get perspectives from other people?

i really like @winn-wynn, she has some good audrey head canons!! <3

[poisonedbeyondrepair]

Decided to try my hand at a human AU, but I have no self control so it’s kinda like Infamous: Second Son meets Lackadaisy 😅 got 4 chapters written so I will be updating weekly for a month, then who knows after that, I sure don’t know lol. Let me know what you think!

[not-so-terrible]

so Itachi and Kisame's names can kinda match

Like most characters outside Kiri, Itachi's name is written with katakana rather than kanji for weasel 鼬. But in Japanese, tiger sharks are called weasel sharks - itachizame (鼬鮫), with the first kanji from the meaning of Itachi's name and the second from Kisame's. While they're from a different family, another kind of tiger shark comes up in their meeting, as the description of shark pups devouring each other in the womb matches the otherwise docile sand tiger sharks.

And then there's Kisame's given name. While the kanji used are for demon shark, using different kanji, 樹雨 'kisame' is a noun. It's used for when fog settles around tree leaves and falls like rain. So a Mist Ninja finding their place alongside Leaf Ninja through the Rain Village/Akatsuki is literally summed up in his name

While being the only team to share ring placement and nail polish colour, the kanji on them, Vermilion and South, also match. Many of the Akatsuki rings are connected to heavenly beings in some way, but Itachi's, Konan's, and Deidara's are part of a set of Four Auspicious beasts - The Vermilion Bird, the White Tiger, and the Azure Dragon. They're all linked to different elements/weather/etc, tying the two of them together, as the Vermilion Bird is the deity of the south. Each of the symbols also has different phases of the moon connected to them, called mansions; one of them for the Vermilion Bird is 鬼, the first kanji in Kisame's name. And the main occurrence of the south kanji in the series is the Uchiha's Naka Shrine and Naka River; 'The Shrine/River of Southern Joy'. Itachi's Mangekyo Sharingan activates at the river, the tablet describing Infinite Tsukuyomi is in the shrine, and they meet by a seaside shrine.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Can't take off my mind this very specific flavor of sskk dynamics from a timeline that goes like: the doa arc never happened. Skip forward to bunch of years past the canon events, and you have sskk who can't really call each other enemies since it's now evident to everyone they enjoy seeing each other, but aren't friends either since they do very much still work for enemy organizations. And they just keep stumbling across each other on their respective missions from opposite fronts, trying to capture the same target for their own team, and they keep fighting and competing with each other in a way that is almost playful (but never going easy on each other because then where's the fun!), making them both almost look forward to meet and clash with the other on missions and to fight for the same target. And the mission accomplishment rate has now decreased to a 50% for both of them but neither of them can bring themselves to really care because for the first time they're having the carefree, mindless fun they never experienced in their lives and they have a person they enjoy to spend time with to the point they even got past denying it. And Atsushi telling Akutagawa “even if I let you go now, I'll still have to hunt you down” and Akutagwa replying “hunt me then” and theatrically disappearing out of a window or something leaving Atsushi laughing and just. them being together although nobody is going to say it out loud

[novella-november]

Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

[crossbackpoke-check]

find a blorbo (nhl tag game)

RULES: Go through the roster of each NHL team and find at least one player that you can root for.

tagged by @bondedpairs!! when i say too many teams to count and here for the narrative um. i may not have lied. this is not an extensive list of my blorbos but in order to make it not ten thousand years long i made up the rule that i had to do it straight from memory :)

anaheim ducks: as evidenced by recent events i DO like mason mctavish and trevor zegras but i have to honor laura and mention troy terry and beloved goalie gibbie*

boston bruins: oh for sure brad marchand… can i say patrice? one of the charlies got traded but i think mcavoy is still there because gryz is gone, brandon carlo is there still i think

buffalo sabres: cozens & thompson, owen power, rasmus dahlin, ukko pekka luukkonen

calgary flames: is chris tanev still here? is markstrom still here?? noah hanifin?? as a last resort i’ll say blasty

carolina hurricanes: aho & jarvy & teuvo teravainen & brent burns is still playing maybe? i know sepe got traded

chicago hockey: the bedsy narrative is compelling but ANDREAS ATHANASIOU MY BELOVED reunited with tyler bertuzzi… that’s the real story. also i like foligno

colorado avalanche: gabe landeskog, whatever ross colton & miles wood have going on, natemac + jo, mikko

columbus blue jackets: have long been on the merzlikins train, have been swayed to the darkside of umich boys (brindley, kent johnson, fantilli, blankenburg who is now on nsh)

dallas stars: seggy! mush! roope + miro and otter and robo and wyjo (rip ty dellandrea) and harls! etc.

detroit red wings: MOST players. dilly larks, moritz seider, jv, raymond, rasmussen, kitty, lyon, etc except for k*ne

edmonton oilers: mcdrai, ofc. nugent-hopkins, nursey, rip vinny & skinny

florida panthers: tkachuk, reinhardt, sasha barkov, verhaeghe (is there still?)

los angeles kings: adrian kempe… kevin fiala… danault… quinton byfield & alex turcotte

minnesota wild: kirill, marat, fleury, brodes, fabes, boldy, moose, middsy, spurge… god’s perfect idiots

montreal canadiens: going out on a limb here to say martin st. louis but also xhekaj (both), slafkovský, suzuki, my austrian reinbacher, yes fine cole caufield

nashville predators: MOST BEAUTIFUL D PAIR IN THE WORLD GRADY SKJEI AND ROMAN JOSI!! juuse, evangelista, isn’t stamkos there and also someone else who absolutely should not be

new jersey devils: nico… tuna (tatar), dawson mercer, siegenthaler, dougie hamilton, yes the hugheses whatever

new york islanders: barzy, zeeker & marty, anders lee, noah dobson lol

new york rangers: mika & chris, lafrenière & k’andre, shesterkin

philadelphia flyers: frosty & beezer and tk and sanny and the new baby michkov and coots and scooty loots and foerster etc etc. you know the Guys

pittsburgh penguins: the two headed monster but also compelled by rutger mcgroarty, and kevin hayes was there!!!

ottawa senators: timmy stü & brady! josh norris! the evolution of shane pinto! ullmark now and brännström and claude giroux and chabot

san jose sharks: ekky, thrun, mario, borde, logan couture, shakir, that other vaguely blond rookie

seattle kraken: brandon tanev, andre burakovsky! grubauer & d’accord also

st. louis blues: jordan kyrou, nathan walker (is still there?), rob thomas? is parayako still there?

tampa bay lightning: hedman, point, they dumped so many guys after the cup run… is kucherov still there or is he in nashville?? anthony cirelli (notable for being made out with by pat maroon)

toronto maple leafs: mitch, jt, willy, alex nylander, kniesy, dewar, et

utah hockey: crouse, keller, tuba

vancouver canucks: quinn, brock, petey, jt, garly, höggy, i want to say dakota johnson, elias lindholm?

vegas golden knights: brandon montour is here now… alex pietrangelo, so sorry to one i can’t remember who loves the lions it will come back to me

washington capitals: full of love and stupidity. oshie, nicke/ovi, pierre-luc dubois, dowd, vrána, milano

winnipeg jets: adam lowry!! josh morissey and kc and morgan barron, also vladdy my beloved

tagging @stillfertile + @colap1nto + @songsandswords + @moregraceful if they haven’t done it yet, i know they follow at least a couple teams. if anybody else wants to play i love adopting blorbos!!

[queenerdloser]

i'm writing a speculative short story for this writing class i'm taking where a cleaning robot witnesses a bloody mutiny and its aftermath. (why? no clue, i just love the idea.) for a long time, i only knew what i wanted the robot to be named and just had placeholders for the humans involved, but yesterday i finally went in and gave them all names. and halfway through the naming game i had the VERY amusing (to me) thought of giving the ship officers all names of historical ship officers involved in deadly ship crashes that ended in cannibalism. (the mutiny that serves as the plot is based on a lack of food resources after their ship gets attacked lol.) so the ship's first officer is named fitzjames. i'm rubbing my hands together eagerly waiting to see who will expose themselves as terror fans in this class or if i'll get away with my easter eggs.