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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 4 years ago

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if I can never give you peace — zero || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Also available on Ao3.

Word count (chapter): 5.8k

Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers, heavy on angst, slow burn, eventual smut

Warnings & Tags (chapter): Descriptions of Violence, Tension, Dehumanization and general poor treatment of hybrids

A/N: So I have two modes and those are tooth-rotting fluff and angst feast. This is... not fluff. I hope you’ll enjoy this first installment and introduction to the series, and I will see you soon for the next one!

Your eyes follow Jungkook’s every step as he walks through the crowd and enters the cage that serves as a ring. He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re watching. You’re always watching. You’re standing in your usual corner, from where you make sure everything goes smoothly. Two tall, muscular men stand on either side of you. They look like they’re your bodyguards, but really, they’re here to handle him if he tries to do something. To everyone in the room but the two of you, this looks like every other fight night since the very first time he came to the Circle.

You’re too far for him to smell you, especially over the crowd of excited, sweaty men, but if he did, he’s sure he would pick up on the bitter scent of anxiety, would hear your heart beating a little too fast. He’d say you’re lucky the guards aren’t hybrids, but he knows that’s not the case. You never count on luck. Everybody knows that. That’s what makes you so good at your job. That’s what might just save his life.

He glances at you, finds your eyes glued on him, and gives you a smirk, which reveals his abnormally pointy teeth for a rabbit hybrid. It’s been over a year since they’ve been sharpened for him, to make him look more threatening. You’re used to them, but he still sees you swallow. For the first time he wonders, vaguely, if you had any say in that. You’re the one he meets with nowadays, but you’re not his owner, after all.

Your eyes leave him to look at his opponent. The man’s taller and has broad shoulders, he seems to have some training based on his on-guard position, and he’s older than him. You couldn’t find many informations on him, but based on his attributes, he’s probably some kind of dog hybrid.

You both know he doesn’t stand a chance.

“On my left,” the announcer roars, “some fresh meat! I give you… Jin!”

There are enthusiastic shouts, and the man shoots nervous glances around him at the crowd all around him. It’s clear that he isn’t used to that type of setting, and you feel an unexpected wave a guilt in your chest. He’s going to get destroyed tonight, you’re sure of it. You’re the one who suggested that Jungkook should fight a newbie, for the show. You don’t regret your decision, but you don’t feel good about it either.

“And on my right! The man who needs no introduction, who has won thirty! Two! Fights in a row, I give you… Jungkook!”

The crowd goes hysterical, and the hybrid facing him winces again. If he thought he had chance before that, it’s clear that he doesn’t anymore. You wonder if he’d heard about Jungkook, if his owners had prepared him well enough, if whoever owned him was betting against him. You wonder if he’d just been told he would be fighting a rabbit hybrid and assumed he would be fine.

Jungkook’s long ears are flat against his head, carefully tucked under a headband, and without those, he doesn’t look like a rabbit hybrid, too tall and broad-shouldered. Then again, he had never really been your typical rabbit hybrid.

Truth was, you had been relieved when you had been assigned to working for the daughter of Mr. Xanders. Your whole life, you had known you would end up here. Your dad had worked for the Family since before your birth, and though it was clear your mom disapproved, she had never held any illusion that you would escape it. If anything, you were the sacrifice, a way of making sure your siblings wouldn’t be forced to work for the most powerful crime family in town. That was, if you did good enough.

Getting assigned to the girl who was nicknamed “the Princess” was both a blessing and a curse. It meant you got to stay away from most of the illegal stuff, as the girl was notoriously sheltered from all of that by her father. However, it also meant that you had to basically babysit the spoiled seventeen years old, despite her being only a few years younger than you. You had dressed as professionally and sternly as you could, adorning yourself in a dark woman’s suit, but she hadn’t seemed impressed.

That was how you found yourself here, at an auction for rare hybrids. You thought the whole thing was grim — oh, how naive you had to be back then, to think this was bad — but you had obeyed orders without batting an eye. You had to do this right, and this was a pretty easy job, after all.

You gritted your teeth silently as various hybrids were brought on stage, exhibited and bought, one by one. The status of hybrids was a complicated subject in the country, always had been, but you had grown up in a poor area, where a lot of hybrids lived freely, and the idea of owning what you knew to be a person made you sick to your stomach. At least the Princess hadn’t said a word the whole time you’d been there, and you had hopes that you would leave without — God — buying someone.

Naive. So damn naive.

“I want this one,” the girl had announced decidedly, pointing at the stage with a movement of her chin.

Shit.

You looked at the stage. There, the auctioneer was highly praising the hybrid who had last been brought on stage. A surprisingly tall and muscular rabbit hybrid, with fluffy black hair and long ears falling on either side of his head. He was shaking slightly, sending terrified looks around him, and your heart tightened in your chest.

Naive and soft.

“Are you sure?” you asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

“Do your job. Get him for me.”

Numbers flashed in your mind, the exact amount of money you were allowed to spend clear as day. It made you feel a little better, for a second. This was what you were good with; numbers, facts, informations. If you thought of the hybrid as just that — a number, an element to compose with — you should be able to do what you were supposed to do. Do your damn job, and ensure your little brother never ever had to work here, because they wouldn’t be as kind to him.

You took a deep breath, and, after a few people had already considerably raised the price, you made your bid.

Jungkook walks to the center of the ring, arms raised high. He’s good at giving a show, good at most things, actually. He looks good here, confident, knowing exactly what he’s worth, and he’s nothing like what he was that first day. There is absolutely no fear on his face as he fists the air and people shout for him. Instead, he seems to be positively thriving on the attention he’s getting.

He’s a favorite here, because he always gives people what they came for. He makes the fight last, makes it theatrical, with twists and impressive moves. It’s been a while since he’s struggled in a fight, really struggled, which has made it easier. You recognize you’ve played your part in that. You have your word to say when picking his opponents, and you don’t want him to— well, to die, or to be too badly injured.

You know it’s not much. You know no matter what you tell yourself, that’s not protecting him. You know you should have acted a lot earlier.

But you didn’t.

They gave you Jungkook as soon as the payment was confirmed, which didn’t take long. People were fidgeting in the room, careful not to stare too long at the Princess. They knew who she was, of course. The bodyguards and your ghostly presence, one step behind her, did not do anything to soothe their nerves. No one actually knew you back then. You hadn’t earned your reputation of efficiency, no one had called you a cold-hearted bitch yet, though that would pretty much become your identifier, but you were still somewhat unnerving, with your stillness and your all black attire.

Which was why you never tried to add color to it.

The Princess seemed to be in her element, not bothered by the silence and people’s obvious fear of her, even for a second. Instead, she was watching her acquisition. The hybrid — Jungkook, you remembered, because you’d heard his name after winning the auction — was staring at the floor, stealing glances at her every once in a while, before quickly looking away again. He was clearly shy, and terrified, and it looked like the Princess liked that.

When they handed the leash to her, she was quick to clip it on his collar, and you held back your disgust. Your mind went to Mark, a kind golden retriever hybrid you had grown up with, and the idea of him being collared like that almost made you retch.

But, of course, none of that could be seen on your face. You had been told that you had the perfect poker face, unreadable at all times. In moments like this, it was a true blessing.

“Hello, Jungkook, I’m Anna, and I’m your new owner. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Then Jungkook looked up at her, briefly, and an adorable smile curved his lips.

You knew then that this could only end in pain and heartbreak.

Once Jungkook is done, he turns to face Jin. The other hybrid looks like he wants to run away, but even if he tried it, he’d be pushed right back in. So he does the smart thing, and prepares himself for the fight, lifting his hands to protect himself. Jungkook does the same thing. There is a brief moment of silence, everyone bracing themselves for what is to come. Despite his earlier display, Jungkook is deathly calm now, every muscle in his body ready for action.

The second the bell rings, Jungkook is moving, so fast he’s almost blurry, and you have to avert your eyes when his fist connects with the other hybrid’s chest.

This all feels like it could have been avoided.

A relationship quickly developed between the shy bunny and the Princess. You didn’t say anything about it; that wasn’t what you were here for. A baby-sitter, sure, but not a chaperone. Anyway, it seemed like Mr. Xanders wasn’t too worried about that, and his daughter was free to do whatever she wanted as long as she didn’t get pregnant. You supposed a hybrid was the perfect choice for that, with how rare it was for them to have children with a human. It could happen, of course, but it was highly unlikely without medical assistance.

Still, you weren’t sure you liked the relationship all that much. It just felt like Anna had so much power over him. He was a couple of years older than her, since selling hybrids under eighteen was technically illegal, but it was clear from the very beginning that he had been sheltered and didn’t have much experience in— well, in any areas. A sickening feeling told you that had probably been done on purpose by the people who had raised him. You were well aware of what rabbit hybrids were usually bought for.

You watched, silently, as they got close, as Anna’s hands started to easily find Jungkook’s, as Jungkook started to rest his head on her shoulder, to scent her, as he fell in love with her. Today, maybe you would have been annoyed at the sight, annoyed by his innocence, but back then, it only made you sad.

You were also there to see Anna grow bored of him. It didn’t even take her that long, no more than a couple of months.

When she insisted on going to another hybrid auction, and asked you to bid on someone else, you knew that it was over.

“Get him to fight,” Mr. Xanders told you dismissively at a meeting you had with him. “I want the money he cost me back.”

“He’s a rabbit hybrid,” you had said, frowning. “He’s not exactly the fighting type.”

“I didn’t tell you to make him win,” he scoffed. “I don’t care if you have to bet against him. Get my money back. After that, I don’t care what you do with him.”

You didn’t realize then that that was a ‘promotion’, and that this meant you would start working in illegal settings. All you knew was the painful weight in your chest at the idea of sending Jungkook to his death. You had kept away from him, not trying to create any bonds with him, but he smiled politely and kindly when he saw you.

God, he was in love with Anna. You were sure he had noticed her losing interest in him, but you also believed he held out hope. This could— This would probably be crushing for him.

So you took the matter into your own hands. You didn’t just sign him up for an upcoming fight, but you also found him a trainer, the best you could.

“Does Anna want me to learn how to fight?” he had asked you, big brown eyes looking at you, when you had told him about the training. “So I can be her bodyguard?”

“My orders don’t come from Anna,” you’d answered, trying to stay as distant as possible.

“But will she— Do you think she’ll like me again, if I learn to fight?”

No. You thought Anna had gotten everything she wanted from him.

“I don’t know,” you had answered. You couldn’t. You couldn’t do it.

The first fight had been brutal. Devastating, in fact. Jungkook had been training, and you’d been told he was good at what he was doing, but, as a newbie, he’d been sent against an expert fighter — “for the show”, you’d heard, the exact same thing you would use as well, years later —, and you were later told he was lucky he’d made it out alive.

You stayed next to him in the hospital room. As a hybrid, he healed quickly, but he still looked terrible, body marred with black and blue, lip busted, and black eyes. When he woke up, he looked around the room, every movement he made clearly painful, and you knew, at his expression, that there was only one thing he thought about in that moment.

Anna wasn’t there.

You would never forget the look he gave you then. The way he set his jaw, the way something hardened in his eyes.

“Get out,” he had said, and you were pretty sure he had meant for it to sound aggressive, but he wasn’t good at it yet, so it was more pleading.

You had gotten up, made a move to— to pat his shoulder, to do something, but you had refrained and your hand had fallen down to your side.

“I’m sorry,” you had said, and you had left him alone in there, with his broken hopes and heart.

That night was the first and last time you considered leaving your job.

But there was no quitting, where you worked.

In the ring, of course, Jungkook is good. He leaves an opening for the guy to place a few punches, ones that can’t hurt him too much. The crowd is delirious, bets are being placed. There’s a rumor that Jungkook was injured at the last fight so tonight could be the night where he loses his title, couldn’t it? The first round is coming to an end, and he doesn’t seem to have done much so, surely, he’s not going to be able to end that guy by the third, like he usually does — and if he does, hey, at least they’ll have had one hell of a show.

The three rounds thing is something you asked him to do after an organizer told you people needed that to feel they had gotten their money’s worth. You had told Jungkook, and he’d growled an answer, but he had never won in less than that since. For all his obvious hatred of you, the organization, and everything that surrounded him, he didn’t actively oppose you most of the time. He had tried to run away, twice, but when those attempts had failed, he had seemed to realize that it was just easier to go with the flow.

When the second round starts, though, he goes wild. His bare feet are light on the floor, his fists quick and precise. He doesn’t leave anything to luck either. Every punch lands exactly where he wants it to, when he wants it to. He dodges his opponent’s attacks easily, and he sees in his eyes the moment when the man realizes that he’s not winning this. He sees confidence turn into surprise, then into fear, and it only makes him want blood.

His right hook hits the man in the jaw with all the power he can put into it, and this time you don’t wince. You’ve gotten used to the violence now — it always takes you a while — and you’re mostly impressed at how good Jungkook is.

But that’s exactly why you’re in this situation, isn’t it?

“We should put him down,” Mr. Xanders said, with the exact same dismissive tone he had used years ago to tell you to make Jungkook fight, and you looked at him in disbelief. Surely, surely, he didn’t mean—

“I really disapprove of that solution, dad,” Anna said, shaking her head, and you realized he did.

You had been surprised by Anna’s presence, when you had walked into the office. You hadn’t worked for her in a long time, having graduated to far worse things. You had served your purpose, you supposed, made yourself practically indispensable when it came to the organizing of the Family’s business, as you knew the workings of the Family in and out, both legal and… less legal aspects. No one had ever said anything about your siblings joining.

“He attacked someone,” her father simply shrugged.

“If I may, Mr. X, it was after a fight and the man was being really aggressive after he lost the money he’d bet against—”

“I don’t care,” he said, waving his hand like you were just an annoying fly. “He attacked a human. We can’t have our hybrids doing that, otherwise it will just be chaos. You’re smart enough to know that.”

You swallowed. Something inside you was screaming. You had long shut down any form of moral compass, but it seemed like Jungkook always awoke the last remnants of it. You were pretty sure he despised you now, and you didn’t blame him for it. But, just like what you’d thought when Anna had bought him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this just wasn’t right.

“I understand, sir.”

“That’s a horrible thing you’re doing, dad,” Anna insisted. “I thought you’d try to at least reason with him, (Y/N).”

That wasn’t your job. You knew when your opinion was asked on those things, and now was not one of those times. You also knew that you hated that she called you by your first name, like the two of you were friends, and you didn’t say anything about that either.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Mr. Xanders said warmly, like he had just refused to buy her an expensive toy, and not condemned a man to death. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

Anna sighed and rolled her eyes, and you assumed she’d probably stay mad at him for a while. But not too long.

Your heart was beating so loud in your chest you barely heard Mr. Xanders dismissing you, and you were relieved to be left alone when you walked out. There was only one thing you wanted to be thinking about now.

How were you going to save Jungkook’s life?

Jin hits the floor and doesn’t get up. It’s not an actual knock-out, because he’s still moving around, but Jungkook doubts he’ll even try to get back on his feet. The guy seems to be smart, he probably realizes that that would be suicide. Another minute with him on the ring? Nah. That would be a really, really stupid thing to do. Jungkook’s knuckles are bleeding — he doesn’t think they’ve been intact once in the four years he’s been fighting — and he’s pretty much unstoppable, right now.

He lets the referee grab his arm and lift it in the air as the crowd screams. They’re particularly loud tonight, because he won in two rounds. It’s not really a surprise when they force the entrance of the cage, flooding it, and Jungkook looks for you, almost instinctively. When he finds you, your eyes are on your phone. You look like you couldn’t care less about what’s happening around you, and he knows you do genuinely dislike the fights. You’ve never made it a secret. You’ve never taken care of the other hybrids owned by the family who participate, either. He doesn’t know if he’s your burden, or if you’re the one who chooses to still do that. Before, he wouldn’t have doubted it. Now… He’s not so sure.

Your eyes flicker up to his for a second, and you nod, imperceptibly. Your heart is probably beating as loud as his right now, though for different reasons.

Jungkook examines you, takes in how out of place you are in that environment, immaculately dressed, small glasses on your nose, hair pulled back, and lets himself be amused by it, one last time.

And then he’s gone.

You only visited Jungkook when there was about to be a fight, and it was clear he really didn’t like it when you showed up. You always seemed to be interrupting him, whether it was a training session or a work-out. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him do something other than those two things. You didn’t know if he had anything else.

You brought some food from a restaurant he liked, as you usually did, and got some things for the guards who would be around. That wasn’t as usual, but you had done it before, so hopefully it wouldn’t make anyone suspicious and it would allow you to have some privacy with Jungkook.

He sat down opposite from you, immediately diving into the food you’d brought, and you watched silently. His shoulders were tense, never completely down but, though he would hate to admit it, he was more relaxed around you than around anyone else. It said a lot about his life, about how desperate he was for any form of companionship, that the way you told him about his opponents almost made him feel like you cared about him. It said a lot that your presence comforted him, and it was pretty pathetic, if you asked him.

“So, who am I fighting?” he asked while eating. He never bothered with his manners when he was around you.

“A newbie,” you said. “Some fighting training from what I’ve gathered, but he shouldn’t be an issue.”

He growled. The sound was unnatural for a rabbit hybrid, but he had mastered it over the years. It was a good way of intimidating people.

“Really? I thought I told you I wanted a challenge.”

You didn’t reply immediately, and that made him look up at you. When he did, you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, hesitant. That was completely out of character. Then, you made up your mind, and your expression turned back to the unreadable one he was so familiar with.

“Keep eating, and don’t raise your voice” you ordered.

He lifted an eyebrow. Normally, he would have done something like folding his arms and waited for more, in a defiant attitude, but this was you. You would never do something like that just to assert your power over him. He hated your guts, but that was one thing he could say about you.

“Mr. X is going to have you killed because you attacked that man at your last fight.”

There. Direct, to the point, not a useless word — though you couldn’t bring yourself to use the words “put you down”. Jungkook froze for a half a second, than resumed his eating, albeit slower than before.

“It was all good as long as long as I brought him money, but he doesn’t want any trouble for it, huh?”

His voice was bitter and low, barely more than a rumble. You were confident no one was paying attention to you, since the guards ate in another part of the house and no one cared about what you were saying. They could see you through the picture window, but they couldn’t read lips. Still, you lowered your voice as well.

“Win your next fight in two rounds,” you said, instead of answering him.

He shot you a dirty glance.

“Do you really think that’s what I—”

“That should get the crowd to lose their mind,” you continued. You had gone through all the possibilities in your mind, over and over again. This was the one that was the safest for you and your family, while giving Jungkook a reasonable chance of survival. “When that happens, you’ll use the hysteria to leave through your opponent’s entrance.”

This got his attention, and he stopped trying to interrupt you, finally focusing on your words.

“I can probably get you somewhere between five and ten minutes before everyone finds out you’re missing.”

He scoffed.

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I also won’t look too hard for you,” you added, because you would obviously be in charge of that as well. “So as long as you don’t do a terrible job hiding, we probably won’t find you. Stay away from hotels, and don’t get noticed.”

Jungkook stayed silent for a while. He didn’t look at you, jaw set, and you were pretty sure he was weighing the pros and cons of your plan.

“I don’t know if there’ll be another chance,” you told him truthfully. “They want you gone after the fight.”

The silence went on a little longer, before Jungkook spoke again.

“Anna’s said yes to that?”

You didn’t miss the way his voice faltered on her name. You didn’t think he had spoken to her in years, but he still had a soft spot for her, and being reminded of it always made you sad. You had accepted, a long time ago, that life wasn’t fair, but that was particularly true when it came to him. None of what had happened to him was fair. The shy boy with the wide eyes you’d helped buy at the auction deserved better. You didn’t, probably deserved every single bad thing that had happened to you, but for him, you wished you had done something — anything — differently. So you wouldn’t be faced with a jaded, cynical version of that boy right now.

“She opposed it, but her father is still going through with it.”

“So she didn’t oppose it much.”

You didn’t answer that. It was true, and you both knew it.

You glanced at your watch. Your time here was almost over, and you had a lot of responsibilities.

“Will you do it?”

Jungkook glanced at you, eyes wary.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? You could just do that so you could have me killed and say I tried to escape.”

You shook your head, almost amused by the possibility.

“I would gain nothing from doing that, and if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t go about it that way. Will you do it?”

This time, he nodded. He didn’t trust you, but he thought you were telling the truth on this. So following your plan would be just as well.

“Good. I’ll see you for the fight.”

This would have been a good moment to wish him good luck, probably, but you didn’t do luck, so you didn’t say anything. You gave him a quick nod, gathered your things, and then you were out.

You didn’t think to say goodbye.

“We’ll get him when the crowd’s dispersed,” one of the bodyguards says, and you hum noncommittally in response, eyes on your phone.

Moron.

If these two were the ones you usually work with, they would know that your usual protocol is to go get Jungkook as soon as the referee’s lifted his hand up. That way, you can get him out as quickly as possible and you don’t have to worry about him getting mobbed. But you’ve changed your team the day Mr. Xanders asked you to ‘put Jungkook down’, so they have no idea. It’s been a week since then, which shouldn’t make it too suspicious. Hopefully.

When the crowd does move enough to see what’s going on in the cage — three minutes — one of the two men says, voice worried, “Hey, can you see him?”

Your head snaps up and your eyes scan the room. You’re relieved to see that Jungkook’s nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?” you ask urgently, and the men seem to shrink under your glare, exchanging worried glances. You roll your eyes and sigh. This may be your plan, but they’re still acting incompetent. Which is good for you, sure, but the perfectionist in you is annoyed.

“You two should pray he’s in the changing room,” you spit out as you march towards it. It takes some struggle, because the crowd isn’t exactly calming down, but it’s not too long.

Of course, Jungkook isn’t in the changing room. It was a bad idea to go look there anyway — usually you would probably have already informed everyone that he had disappeared — but these two don’t seem to realize that.

“Go search the fighting room,” you order, “make sure you haven’t missed anything. Then check the surroundings. I’ll stay there. Let me know if you find something.”

They practically run out, and you allow yourself to sit down. This isn’t even dangerous yet. If Jungkook’s done that part correctly, he should already be too far for them to find him. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve bought him — you check your watch — seven minutes. But even if you don’t doubt him, you still feel terror at the idea they could catch him. You don’t know what would happen then. You don’t want to think about it.

The seconds tick by. It’s been almost exactly ten minutes when your phone rings.

“Hello, Miss—”

“Do you have him?” you bark.

There’s a silence.

“I want an answer!” you snap.

“No. I’m sorry. We’ve lost him.”

You hang up immediately and start to dial another number to let people know Jungkook’s missing.

But, before you actually call, you let out a brief sigh of relief.

This just might work.

You get home late the following night. When you do, you’re absolutely exhausted. You’ve had a terrible day, unable to sleep a wink, and you got thoroughly chewed out over Jungkook going missing. You think Mr. X was suspicious of you, because you basically don’t fuck up, ever, but then Anna started to wax poetics about how “Jungkook was a soul who wanted to live”, and you don’t think he bought it, but it at least got his mind off of you.

You doubt he’d get you killed over that, it just isn’t worth it and you’re pretty valuable, but it would be much better if he didn’t think about it too much.

You’ve organized the searches, pretty sloppily in your own opinion. Of course, it’s possible that they could find him, but if Jungkoook does his part, everything should be okay.

You remove your shoes with a groan when you walk in. You usually never regret wearing heels, thankful for the centimeters they help you gain, but tonight you definitely do. Keeping them on for two days was not how they had been intended to be used.

Once they’re off your feet, you painfully walk to your kitchen. All you want to do is to make yourself a cup of tea before going to bed, but you stop yourself before grabbing your kettle.

Something feels— off. You’re probably the only person who could notice it, because you’re so obsessive with everything that’s in your home, but you just can’t miss it. It’s not much, just some items that aren’t where they should be, or that were moved a little to the side.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you hesitantly grab a knife from your kitchen drawer. You don’t think that would do anything, if someone was in your apartment right now, because you can’t fight and, considering the people you work for, you’re pretty sure if someone wanted to kill you they would, but it makes you feel better.

You make your way through the living-room slowly, heart hammering in your chest. You check the bathroom, first. No one’s in there, but it’s clear that whoever was there used it as well. He didn’t put your toothpaste back where it belonged.

That only leaves your room. You walk in, carefully, to find it empty. Your bed’s done, though not exactly how you do it, and that confuses you. At least until your eyes find the necklace that’s on your bedside table.

It’s the identifying tag Jungkook wore around his neck for fights. You reach out for it, in disbelief, and that only confirms what you thought.

A laugh bubbles in your throat, and you just can’t hold it in. It escapes your lips, breaking the silence that always reigns in your apartment.

Here. He was here, in the eye of the storm, while everyone was looking for him. You have no idea where he is now, but this makes you feel like he’ll be fine. Clearly, he is a smart man and he has resources.

You fall to the ground, lean against your bed, holding the tag in your hand. You give yourself a second. That’s more than you usually get. It’s a second to close your eyes and feel grateful and happy about what happened, a second to think that perhaps not everything is dark and terrible in the world.

A second, because Jungkook made it out.

And then, you open your eyes, and you come back to your reality, which is that you’ll be working for the family tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably for the rest of your life. There’s no out for you. No hope.

But at least Jungkook should be fine. You’ll never know about it, because if he is, then you’ll never hear about him again.

If you ever do, it will only mean bad news.

Thank you for reading! I hope you’ve enjoyed this first chapter and feel free to let me know if you would like to be tagged for future ones!

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #hybrid jungkook #candywrites

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years ago

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All The Colors We Cannot See {Bakugou x Reader}

Synopsis: He sees you in the colors that light the sky, and longs for you in the darkness that follows.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x fem! reader

Warnings: attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, language

Word Count: 4k+

A/N: This took me like 9 months to complete, but it’s finally here. I didn’t completely stick to the request, but this is what came out. I still hope you like it! Banner made by my amazingly talented friend, go follow her @jm.rvice on instagram! 💖

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Blood pumps to his legs. Cement pounds his feet. Bits of rubble catch in his boots. The first spark of the night shoots up- swallowed whole by the black sky. A trail of embers remains in its wake.

Katsuki stops. And waits.

A second passes- the crowd silent in anticipation. No one can see the spark, but everyone knows it’s there… waiting… for the right time to explode. And just when the darkness thinks it has won, an enormous burst of light blankets the sky. In that moment, it’s so bright that Katsuki can see the skyline. Like paint splattered on a blank canvas, the sky now bleeds in red, and the explosion leaves an imprint the size of a supernova long after it’s gone.

The crowd applauds.

A roar is ripped from Katsuki’s throat. He pounds at the brick wall again and again, despite blood trickling down his fists. He rips his cochlear and smashes it against the wall. A sick satisfaction settles within him. The ringing that greets him is like a devil sucking on the lobe, whispering tempestuous nothings into his ear.

Katsuki continues his ascent, taking steps by three until he reaches the top. The poor door is yanked off its hinges, but it doesn’t even cross Katsuki’s mind as he’s hit by everything all at once. Smoke slithers down his throat, roasted yakitori wafts up his nose, the rhythmic booms caress his ear, and the lavender shaded sky comforts his eyes. From up here, the people below remind Katsuki of the dots he used to see after he ignited a big explosion- how the dots blur, mix, and separate in one fluid motion again and again.

His phone ringing is a distant echo. They’re looking for him no doubt, but who the hell cares. Not like they’d find him up here. This was yours and Katsuki’s place.

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He’d blow himself up if he missed even a second.

His lungs burned. They ached for a clean breath, yet inhaled the stench of nitroglycerin-like sweat. He could’ve just blasted himself to the top and saved himself the trouble, but fuck. That. Katsuki thrived on a challenge. He loved the rush of adrenaline more than his own mother. (He’d never tell her that- she’d kill him before he reached this goddamn roof.)

He threw himself against the door in time to see the first burst of citrine hit the sky. But he also saw you, a trespasser, standing on the ledge and looking like you were about to kill yourself. You didn’t flinch at the sonic boom (like most people) nor cringe at the heat. It was like you thought the beauty outweighed its destruction.

All that said you were fucking stupid.

“Oi! Get down from there!”

You were immersed in skylight, and though your back was turned, Katsuki knew you were staring up in awe; your eyes reminiscent of glassy pools reflecting red, yellow, blue and all the possibilities they create.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Katsuki muttered. He just wanted to enjoy the show in his spot. Alone. Like he did every year. “Oi, lady! You wanna kill yourself? Do it on some other roof dammit!”

You jumped at the blasted words, losing your balance and falling off the ledge. Katsuki expected you to scream, to gasp, to cry... anything but fucking wink on your way down like playing with death is just some fucking game. But Katsuki had no time to think before he blasted himself across the roof to grab your hand- but you didn’t need it. You threw a safety line in mid-air, hooked it to the ledge with skillful precision, and used the leverage to hurl yourself back up. You landed on the ledge like a ballerina tip-toeing on a tightrope. The sheer turn of events rendered Katsuki speechless.

“Phew! That was fun! Let’s do it again sometime, yeah?” You wrapped the safety chord before bouncing up to Katsuki.

The fuck?

How did you…?

You didn’t seem to notice Katsuki’s loss for words.

“I’ve never met someone with a quirk like yours. You could put on your very own firework show!”

You tried grabbing his hand, but Katsuki’s growl stopped you. The flickers popping in his hands were a sign to back the fuck off.

You’re scared. Good, Katsuki thought.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m a bit of a pyro.” You sheepishly smiled, twirling a pink and yellow band around your finger. (You’d later twirl your wedding ring the same way.)

Katsuki’s growl cut in its tracks. You weren’t scared like he thought, in fact, you looked lost in his sparks- your eyes zooming back and forth, trying to catch each and every one. Katsuki killed his sparks, causing you to look up at him in disappointment.

“I can’t. Mine don’t change color,” he muttered.

Fireworks always fascinated Katsuki. As a child, he wished his explosions could change color. He imagined people looking up in awe when his sparks rained down. They’d recognize the power and the beauty.

“Hmm…color is what makes a firework...” you trailed off.

“No shit,” Katsuki snorted. How stupid are you?

“Hold out your hands.”

Katsuki crossed his arms, “No.”

“Oh, c’mon! Gimme your hands!” You bounced up and down, overcome with excitement. Katsuki stepped back but immediately stopped himself because Bakugou Katsuki never backs down.

“I’m not giving you anything, woman. You’re fuckin’ weird for jumpin’ off roofs and asking for stranger’s hands. Stay the fuck away from me. In fact, this is my fuckin’ roof. Find your own.” Katsuki looked down to see his hands popping. It must’ve happened on instinct- a defense mechanism to scare off the extras who won’t leave him the fuck alone.

Except it didn’t work on you. You only came closer.

“Do you want to burn in color or not?”

Katsuki saw flashes of himself in your eyes everytime a firework went off. A hunger burned in the pit of his stomach- one he’s felt countless times during battle, but this one was different. This strange warmth made him feel like jumping off the roof himself, and if he put all his might into it, he could brush the spark of a firework from fifty feet above.

“Yes,” he said.

“Then you’re gonna have to trust me.”

“Trust you!?” Katsuki shook his head, “I don’t even know you!”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” You giggled, “Now hold still.”

Katsuki grumbled how ridiculous this was, and that whatever you tried wouldn’t work, but you ignored him in favor of pulling his hands and laying them face up. You nodded and Katsuki sighed, activating his quirk anyway because what the hell.

You’re entranced from the moment flickers popped, one by one, in his hands. They died as quickly as they were born, but still left their mark in the air.

Katsuki’s sparks faltered as cool fingertips brushed against his wrist.

“It’s okay, keep going,” you encourage, and he does.

He can’t pinpoint exactly when the change happened. Like all change, he blinked and suddenly his sparks burned in color. Angry red, rooted in tormented crimson, ravished the usual, boring, orange of his sparks.

Katsuki laughed in disbelief because how is this real? Yellow began to flicker in and out of the red, until it finally caught like a flame and engulfed the red like a warm blanket. Pink and light green began to swirl around the yellow, and the firework show Katsuki had been looking forward to all year didn’t hold a candle to the fireworks fluttering in the palms of his hands.

Katsuki looked up at you.

Who the fuck are you?

You giggled at his awed expression, “Our very own firework show.”

And that’s how you spent the rest of the night. His hands in yours while he burned in color for the first time.

Katsuki later discovered you could read emotions through auras. The aura becomes visible, allowing you to color a person’s quirk.

He also discovered that you didn’t need to hold his hand for it to work.

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A round of fireworks triggers the ringing in Katsuki’s ear. He throws his head back in ecstasy and prays the sensation tickles his eardrum for a little longer- enough to shut the part of his brain that keeps remembering you.

Katsuki pulls the pistol out. The leather grip, so slick with sweat, that Katsuki has to wipe his hand to make sure he doesn’t accidentally set off his quirk.

He’s not an amateur. He’s held a gun before. Every pro-hero has to undergo weapons training, but he’s never used one in combat. His quirk was always more than enough. But there’s something inherently dangerous about a gun. His quirk is an extension of himself, but a gun is a separate entity altogether- and it was designed to kill.

Growing up, adults would praise Katsuki for his quirk. They’d say, “With a quirk like that, you’re destined to become a hero!” But they were still afraid to get too close. They saw his quirk as a weapon that was designed to destroy. And soon enough, Katsuki became the embodiment of just that. But he always felt incomplete. He wanted to be a hero like All Might. One that people looked up to- in awe of their power, not in fear of it.

That’s why he loved fireworks. The only explosion that makes people stop and stare, instead of running away, in fear for their lives.

You were the first and only person to see the beauty in his quirk.

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“What’s your favorite color?”

Such a basic question that Katsuki should already have the answer to. But color meant so much more to you. You saw the world in a way that made everyone else seem colorblind.

You twirled that same pink and yellow band around your finger as Katsuki twirled the ring in his pocket. You leaned in closer, basking in the warmth radiating from Katsuki. He watched how your eyes never left the sky, and he was content with missing the show if it meant he can watch you instead. He caught glimpses of you only when lit by a firework. He made sure not to blink during those moments else he’d miss you. Your expressions mixed and swirled as the fireworks continued, but you never lost the primary color of mesmerization painting your face.

“Blue,” you said. Katsuki had to lean in to listen; your voice an ember in a sea of fire. “But not sky blue like on a sunny day. It’s nice, but I much prefer the darker washes of blue, deep like sapphire.”

Blue, the color of sadness.

“Why blue?” Katsuki asked. The ring in his pocket danced between his fingers.

You turned back to the fireworks. You always made sure to think before you speak when answering a question that mattered.

“Because there’s always an interesting story behind an aura of such sorrow, more importantly, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“So your favorite color isn’t blue, it’s yellow,” Katsuki cut in, but you shook your head.

“There’s nowhere to go but down with yellow. Yellow is the epitome of brightness and joy, and when you crash during the high, you crash hard. But when you’re drowning in deep blue, as I’ve seen many people do, you’re at the lowest of lows- you really can’t get any lower in this life. But when an aura- and I’ve only seen this once- when an aura changes from the deepest of sapphire to sunrise yellow- well it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The twirling of the ring in his pocket stopped.

“That is why I believe blue is the true color of hope,” you whispered.

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Katsuki should feel the smooth texture of leather as he grips the gun in his hand. He should feel the weight of the gun as he brings it to his temple. But he’s numb to it all. It’s like an invisible string, pulling at his muscles, directing his body how to move. His mind goes blank for the first time, and all the inner-turmoil he’s been unable to escape just straight up… stops. It’s like he’s floating in a body of water with no current. Complete and utter stillness.

It scares the fuck outta him, but it feels good.

As he’s about to turn the safety off, his phone rings again, snapping him back to reality. Katsuki guts his phone.

“Die!”

The phone slides down the door like a dead pidgeon.

“God-fuckin’-damn it...” He pushes the barrel back to his temple, craving that mind-numbing stillness once more. Anything to stop the feelings that just won’t seem to go away.

The fireworks crescendo as the show reaches its climax. The colors begin to mix and blur together so much that it becomes too convoluted to look at. An infinite regress of color swirling in Katsuki’s mind.

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You glowed on purpose so Katsuki could find you. He spotted you from miles away, like a beacon of light in the middle of a storm. The melancholic blue of your aura contrasted against the raging reds that painted the sky.

Katsuki ran. He pushed and pushed past his limit, harder than any battle he’s fought in. He could’ve made it if he used his quirk, but he was in a crowded marketplace with too many people. He ripped off his gauntlets and threw them in a random alley. He immediately gained speed. A couple more feet and one minute left.

He should’ve saved his breath. If he did, he would’ve caught you in time. But he had to make sure you knew he was there. You looked down at the sound of your name. He could barely make out your face, but you saw him. He knew you saw him because your aura changed from that melancholic blue to sunrise yellow in an instant. Everyone around him gasped at the flood of light emanating from above.

You were right. It was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

If Katsuki produced a strong enough blast, he could make his way to the top and get you out before the bomb went off. At this point, he didn’t care who else might get hurt in the process. Next to him, Kirishima knew what Katsuki was thinking. He hardened himself to block Katsuki’s takeoff.

“Don’t do it, bro.”

“Get outta my way.”

“You can’t make it.”

“Yes I can.”

“You’ll both die.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP” Katsuki pushed him away, and prepared to blast himself, when two other heroes stepped in to hold him down, but no one stood a chance when Katsuki goes feral. Explosions erupted, not enough to seriously hurt, but enough to get people to back the fuck off. Even Kirishima (whose quirk is to literally be a human barricade) was having trouble blocking Katsuki. One more blast was enough to send Kirishima back and Katsuki used that half a second to blast off. But suddenly he couldn’t. He tried and he tried, but his quirk refused to work. A growl escaped from low in his throat as he whipped his head around, trying to find the cause to his problem so he could decimate it.

Target acquired.

Katsuki was about to march right up to his high school homeroom teacher and deck him right in his fuckin’ face, but before he could, he was held down once again.

He couldn’t fight three pro-heroes off without his quirk. He couldn’t get to you without his quirk. All Katsuki could do was look up and watch you die.

Five seconds left.

He saw it in your face. The moment you realized he wouldn’t be able to save you. The yellow of your aura growing dimmer and dimmer.

Three.

You smiled through your tears.

Two.

And winked.

One.

Then closed your eyes as you took your last breath.

The darkness that followed was unbearable.

A cacophonous wail erupted from Katsuki’s throat- loud enough to go up against any explosion. He couldn’t help but fall to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. He still wasn’t able to use his quirk and that only frustrated him more.

He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

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He hardly uses his quirk anymore because he sees you in the sparks. He’s got no drive to be Number 1 if you’re not here to watch him do it. His will to live is gone without you and that scares the fuck outta him. He hates you for filling his head with ridiculous bullshit. He hates you for opening his mind to the possibility of love, and hope, and shit that shouldn’t matter but it fuckin’ does for some goddamn reason. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you.

That same cacophonous wail erupts from his very core. The gun falls from his hands, to the ground. It could’ve gone off at that moment and Katsuki would never know.

His focus zeroes on his hands. How tense they get when he flexes them, how the vein protrudes from his wrist, and how his glands secrete sweat from his palms. He points them to the sky, and a familiar rush of power, that he hasn’t felt in months, surges through him. His blood boils from under his skin and he’s literally shaking from the intensity. Like a volcano spewing hot-blooded lava after an eternity of dormancy, he shoots blinding white heat into the black night.

The color from the fireworks surround his explosions as if they’re echoing his sentiment. Hot red dominates the sky- reminding Katsuki of the sky that night. This causes Katsuki to rattle off explosions quicker, setting off one after another in a staccato rhythm. The crimson sky ravishes all other color.

If only he saved his breath. If only he’d taken off his gauntlets sooner. If only he ran a little faster. If only he blasted himself a second earlier. If only he didn’t stay back at work that day. If only he turned right instead of left at that goddamn intersection. If only he picked up the ingredients for your favorite meal the day before so he could go straight home. If only he didn’t have to drive back to the market because he fuckin’ forgot the milk again. If only he decided it was still worth it to pick you up from work early like he planned. If only he cared more about your anniversary than about cracking Top 10. If only he went to more of your art shows instead of taking extra patrols. If only he went on that trip to New York with you instead of cancelling last minute because the agency needed him. If only he realized that you meant more to him than being Number 1 before it was too late.

Little by little the crimson wash is buried by the black night and Katsuki’s eyes hurt just staring into the black abyss. It’s suffocating him, weighing his chest down and making it hard to breathe. It’s enough to drop him to his knees, just like he did that night.

You and Katsuki had long talks about your future plans. How you fit into his life, and how he fit into yours. When you’d be able to properly settle down and have kids. You accepted that the first couple years into his career would be the toughest on your marriage. Katsuki would spend more time at the agency than at home with you. Relationships with pro-heroes were like that. But you respected his ambitions. You understood the amount of time that was required to fulfill those ambitions. You never held it over him, never guilted him into spending more time with you, and never made him choose between you or his career. You loved him enough to share him with the rest of the world. You were never each other’s other halves. Instead, you co-existed as separate individuals who made the best team Katsuki’s ever been a part of.

Yellow begins to flicker in and out, but it’s muted behind the black veil of regret. The more Katsuki thinks of your empathy and your love, the stronger the yellow becomes. It finally brightens the black sky, to the point that Katsuki almost has to cover his eyes because it’s like looking into the sun in the middle of the day.

And that’s when it clicks.

He’s burning in color.

You must be conducting this masterpiece from above, using the sky as your canvas and coloring the emotions coming from within him.

He kills his explosions as quickly as he fired them. The fireworks come to an end at the same time. The crowd’s cheers is a fly on the wall to Katsuki.

He falls back, lying flat on the ground and looking up at the sky still shaded in yellow. His chest heaves as he tries to get his breathing back to normal, and the sloppy mixture of sweat and tears continue to slide down his face. The cool breeze is a blessing against the nape of his neck.

He struggles to hold his hands up, they shake as he brings them up to his face. He reignites his quirk with the last bit of strength. The sparks lack their usual vigor as they flutter lazily in his palms. They remind him of fireflies swirling in a jar. For once, the orange doesn’t piss him off.

Has anyone else seen his quirk like this? When he’s not trying to intimidate or take down a villain? The only person he could think of was you. Maybe his quirk wouldn’t be seen as a weapon, maybe he wouldn’t be seen as a villain, if the world saw what he’s seeing right now.

Katsuki sits in this revelation, and the calm that washes over him is nothing like the numbness from before. He’s far from being okay, and he still longs for you in these moments, but Katsuki has a hunch that if you were here right now - holding his hands in yours- his sparks would be burning in your favorite color. And he’s okay with that.

“That is why I believe blue is the true color of hope.”

Katsuki’s phone goes off even in its broken state. His eyes dart between the phone and the gun. He groans as he gets up. His limbs, heavy, after exerting himself. He picks up his phone.

“Hey. Yeah, man, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

Katsuki’s about to hang up when he takes a look at the gun. A reminder of what he was about to do. A decision he could never come back from.

If things turned out different, he would not be here right now.

Just the thought is enough to make Katsuki slide down the wall. He takes a deep breath- his heart beating rapidly at what he’s about to admit aloud for the first time.

“Actually, I’m not okay. I need you to come get me.”

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The Plus Ultra Chronicle

Musutafu Tower Attack: 06/18/2020

WHEN HOPE PREVAILS:

A DAY OF REMEMBRANCE

By: Yamamoto Ichika

06/18/2021

Today marks the one year anniversary of the 2020 Musutafu Tower Attack. Hundreds gathered this morning in remembrance of the lives lost that night. Several people who’ve lost loved ones in the attack have already come forward with statements.

Of those people, Number 7 Hero, Dynamight, has chosen to sit down with The Plus Ultra Chronicle for an all-exclusive interview. His late wife, Bakugou Y/N, was among the citizens that were held hostage that night. After taking a year sabbatical, he has decided to return to the field of pro-hero work. Here is a snippet of that interview; you can find the full interview here.

“Thank you, Dynamight, for sitting down with us. It is truly an honor. The people want to know- what are your thoughts on what occurred that night? Can you take us through what happened?”

“It was hard on us all. Whether you were at home watching on a screen or out there in person. All of us heroes felt like sh*t- unable to do anything. It’s even worse when you had a personal attachment to a victim like I did.”

“It must’ve been difficult as a hero- having to make quick decisions that forced you to separate your personal life from the objectivity of the situation.”

“If I’m being honest, I couldn’t, and it took a toll on me.”

“Is that why you took the sabbatical?”

“Yes. I constantly questioned the validity of my title. Whether or not I deserved to be called a ‘hero’ if I couldn’t save the one person I vowed to always protect.”

“You’ll be returning to the field next month, and with a new addition to your hero costume. An amulet of what looks to be a blue-colored spark attached to the left side of your chest. It stands out against the black, orange, and green of your costume. What is the meaning of this?”

“When I was at my lowest, my failures were all I could see. But someone once told me that you can’t get any lower when you’re at that point. The only real change you can make is to acknowledge and move forward.”

“A symbol of hope is definitely something we all need right now. What made you decide to finally give an official statement?”

“It is my responsibility to protect the citizens of Japan so this never happens again. But I also think it is important for people to see the shortcomings of the heroes they look up to. We’re human too. We f*ck up. I used to think that made someone weak. Now, I see it as part of the journey. The testament of a true hero.”

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

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Wary Hearts

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Request: Harvey and Dowling finds out Saul is dating a student and worries about the dynamic in the relationship. So does reader’s friends (OC characters). So, they all decide to follow them hidden by magic but as they watch Saul and reader, they can’t help but be proven wrong. Anonymous

A/N There were a lot of details in the request so I shortened the summary down so as not to give everything away. I hope it’s what you had in mind, my darling anon 💛 Also, I just want to make a disclaimer because I haven’t done that in a while. The reader will always be of age in the fics involving Saul (or any older characters) and the teacher/student relationship is purely fiction 💛

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn @shadowhuntyi

Perhaps if you were more alert, you’d notice the two people following you to the East Wing where you know Saul is waiting for you. There’s really no excuse for you considering you’re a mind fairy and can literally feel their feelings. You’re too caught up with getting to your destination though to notice them. Your powers are focused on reaching out and sensing Saul’s mind. Nothing offers you peace the way he does.

If you were more alert, you might notice the group of fairies watching from a distance as you go to hug Saul but Kiera has used her light magic to hide them from being seen. Both you and Saul remain oblivion to the many people watching your secret date unfold. Farah and Harvey watching worried about the dynamic between a teacher and a student and whether it’s actually real or perhaps a relationship created to benefit one part without the other part knowing. In short, they’re worried about their friend. The scandal of dating a student will be bad enough but what if this was all for show. What if you truly didn’t care for him but instead thought this would be a good way to ensure passing your graduation. Dowling didn’t want to think like that but she couldn’t help herself. Saul was one of her oldest friends and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t about to make a mistake.

In the other corner, Kiera, Adelaide and Max stood watching for any signs that it was the other way around. They worried that Saul might take advantage of you. Even if you were old enough to make your own decisions, it could still be hard to say no when an older man approached you. They needed to see your relationship first hand to check if they needed to intervene.

Perhaps you would’ve noticed them spotting each other and having a whisper battle as to what they were both doing spying on the two of you. But you were caught up in your conversation with Saul and didn’t notice the world around you. He was talking about a hunt he’d done once going after a Burned One and while you hated knowing the danger he’d put himself in, you really enjoyed listening to his stories. He had this passion in his eyes when he spoke of hunts and missions that you just loved. The exact same way, he loved seeing the spark in your eyes when you got to talking about Earth music. You could talk for hours and only cover the greatest hits of the 90′s. Both of you didn’t really care much for the topics but seeing each other light up with passion meant everything.

“So, I run after Karan yelling for him to stop. But he’s not listening and he almost runs right into the Burned One. I had to drag him back and the Burned One missed him by inches.” Absentmindedly, Saul is playing with the rings on your fingers spinning them around. It’s a habit he’s picked up when he has nothing to occupy his hands with. He feels foreign without a sword in his hand like a fish out of water so you don’t have the heart to move your hands. Besides, you love having him touch you.

“What happened then?” you ask instead of listening in on the conversation happening not even 20 feet away. The two groups agree to an alliance both watching over you to make sure you’re both happy.

“I saved his life. Killed the Burned One,” Saul smirks acting all tough before adding: “I did have the help of five other specialists, but the details aren’t that important.”

“Of course,” you agree with a laugh. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you as he pulls out sandwiches that he definitely didn’t make himself.

“It’s not much but I didn’t really have much warning for this impromptu date, did I?” he teases. You’ve been studying like crazy for the exams and you haven’t been able to settle on dates before the actual date. Today, you’d texted him twenty minutes before the date to let him know that you were going to be there. He’d been more than patient with your school work and you had a suspicion that he actually found it to be a little of a turn on just how serious you took school. There’d been times where the tables had been turned and he had been the one not being able to commit due to meetings and missions. There was a mutual respect for each other’s careers that you really appreciated. You wanted to be able to make your own decisions in life and not worry that he felt threatened by your success or like you had to take a backseat so he could thrive. There was room for both of you and you loved him for that.

“I think it’s perfect,” you say digging into the sandwiches. You spend the evening enjoying each other exchanging kisses every once in a while and never letting go of each other. Either you have your hand on his thigh or he intertwines his fingers with yours. It’s very obvious that your love language is physical touch.

“I finished that book you gave me,” you inform him with a smile. He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I gave it to you a week ago.” You shrug your shoulders thinking back to have you speed-read the book to make sure you had time next to your studies.

“Well, you did promise me something for when I finished it.” You crawl into his lap and kiss the spot right below his ear. You never would’ve done this if you knew that your best friends as well as your teachers were watching, but it’s what they need to see to realise just how madly in love the two of you are.

“I really missed you this week,” you admit continuing your trail of kisses down his jawline and then passing over his lips.

“If this is the way you greet me after a week, we’ll have to do this more often.” You chuckle kissing him once more.

“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.” You’re carefully unbuttoning his shirt which seems to be your audience’s cue to leave and quickly. None of them want to see what transpires next. They don’t stay long enough to hear the “I love you’s” said afterwards but seeing the two of you together so naturally and intimate says it all. You really are just two people who fell madly in love with each other.

You don’t hear the discussion once they’re out of earshot regarding what they just witnessed. You don’t hear them admitting that they were definitely wrong to worry something indecent was going on. When they part that night, they’ve all agreed to keep their mouths shut. No one will speak of this until you and Saul decide it’s time to share the news. And when you finally do share it with them, they all act surprised and happy for the two of you. It’s not necessary to say out loud that they’ll never ever admit to their wary hearts when they first found out about you and the worries they had. All they say is congratulations because their best friends are finally happy. They can’t ask for more.

#saul silva imagine #saul silva gif #saul silva blurb #saul silva x reader #saul silva #winx saul #winx saul silva #fate the winx club #fate the winx saga #winx saga #fate winx club #winx club #fate winx #fate netflix #fate #ftws blurb #ftws imagine #ftws

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pizzazz-party · 3 years ago

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Part 3: Ring’s Biology and Possible Origins

In the world of Ring Fit Adventure, there exist monsters, ghosts, cyborgs, robots, gods, a curious array of animals, human beings of enormous size…and Ring. Ring—a creature so entirely unique, he fails to fit into any of those categories.

Everyone has their own idea as to what Ring is, and as to where he came from. So here’s mine.

(Spoilers for the end of the main storyline. Various postgame dialogue spoilers beyond that.)

If we’re going to talk about where Ring might have come from, it makes sense to look for clues in what he’s presented as. Physically, and subtextually. So let’s take it from the top.

Stepping away from the confines of the game, Ring’s shape is based off a Pilates ring, a piece of exercise equipment who’s history dates back to nearly a century ago, as of the game’s release. It was invented to help rehabilitate wounded soldiers through physical therapy following World War I. Design-wise, though…Ring’s face draws heavy inspiration from depictions of Ancient Inca art. Specifically, he looks a lot like the figure atop this ceremonial tumi knife.

The prominent nose. The familiar jawline. A headpiece bisecting the brow. The blue commonly set into the eyes of the art. The ears—heavy earrings were unisex among the Inca nobility, resulting in long, stretched lobes. But most importantly—the statue is gold. And in the ancient Inca Empire, gold was revered as being sweat from the very sun itself. Metal nowadays is often associated with machinery, with invention. But raw metal has always been a fruit of the earth, as natural as any wood or leaf. The Inca took it a step further. They thought of gold as mystical.

Likewise, Ring’s design is meant to invoke these traits. Despite being made of metal, Ring visibly lacks gears or wiring or nozzles or hatches. His mouth may have a hinge and his flaming little hair piece may spin around. But in terms of “build,” Ring (the magical metal donut) has more in common with Pinocchio (the magical wooden puppet), than with an actual machine.

On a surface level, Ring really is best described as a “magical creature.” He’s obviously not made of flesh and blood. But he’s alive in a way that the closest comparison—sentient robots—just aren’t. Ring sweats, breathes, sleeps, eats. He ages. His metal face flexes and grows and shrinks as he speaks. Ring wields exercise energy, much in the same way that humans do, and more. He crafts, enhances, and stores things with it. Its raw essence flows through him like a fiery kind of lifeblood.

Ring’s not a human or a cyborg. He’s not a monster or a ghost or an animal. He’s made of metal like a robot, and that’s about it. And while Ring may (presumably) have the long life of a god, he lacks everything else. Right down to the proper shape and abilities. Ring, whatever the specifics, is a “magical creature” that exists in a class of his own. We never ever meet another being quite like him.

…At least. That’s what I used to think.

———

The thing with Ring is, it’s hard to tell whether he’s actively omitting facts or just forgetting them. He’s got a terrible memory. But he also as good as lies to us in the beginning, pretending as though Dragaux’s just some enemy to him.

So here is what I understand.

We meet Ring, and he and Dragaux are positioned as these perfect opposites, as perfect enemies. Ring builds others up, and Dragaux tears them down. Dragaux is flashy, an eyesore, the purple to Ring’s yellow, and yet he steals the stage every time. He’s a jerk, but he’s Ring’s jerk. We show up to every boss fight because we are invested in his story, his opinions, his downward spiral.

And that’s our first mistake, really. Because Dragaux’s accent color isn’t purple, it’s pink. Because Dragaux’s opposite isn’t Ring, it’s Trainee. And Ring’s real foil was never Dragaux, but Dark Influence itself.

———

Have you ever thought about how strange it is, this particular parasite. From a narrative standpoint, I mean. As much as it’s referred to as “Dragaux’s influence” or “Dragaux’s aura,” Dragaux is only its latest meal, not its source. And that meal has been lasting anywhere from decades to a century, at least. Dark Influence is, by nature, negativity incarnate. It could be as old as the hills. Older, maybe.

Dark Influence is voiceless, faceless. A parasite composed of pure negative exercise energy, it can theoretically exist on its own. But it thrives best when entrenched in the heart of a host. Its host—a physical creature that, once ensnared, starts exhibiting traits that belong to the Influence: like great swathes of flame in its signature color.

Does that not sound. Familiar.

Because Ring and Dark Influence? Fulfill eerily similar roles, in regards to their syncing partners.

Both of them harness their partner’s exercise energy. Both of them augment the abilities of their partner. But unlike Ring, who’s always actively helping Trainee in precise and creative ways…Dark Influence doesn’t care. I’m not sure if it can give a care about anything that doesn’t include “amassing power” and “spreading itself.” (And I think those are just instincts. I’ve yet to see proof that this thing has anything approaching a complex personality.) But whether or not it cares about Dragaux, it’s fully anchored within his body. It shares its strength with him because there’s nowhere else to store it.

Because unlike Ring, Dark Influence lacks a physical body of its own.

And that thought. How it “lacks” a body. Just sort of stuck around in my head. Because it’s funny, isn’t it? That Ring speaks and this thing doesn’t. That Dark Influence, this wildfire, is so strong and potent and infectious while Ring’s inner flames are so small and orderly and self-contained.

And then I started thinking about coins. Isn’t it funny, that they’re shaped like little rings. Isn’t it funny, that they sometimes just. Spring out of the ground.

How does a free-to-play gym turn a profit. How do all of these gyms, turn a profit.

If NPCs canonically collect coins on their travels just like Trainee… If someone isn’t just throwing away buckets of money into the mountains and rivers and skies… if golden little rings can just spring into existence alongside someone as they’re jogging…

What if it’s not a quirk. What if it’s not just a game mechanic.

What if everything—the coins, the EXP medals, the treasure chests with Ring’s face on them—what if they’re all byproducts that occur when a physical place is saturated with high amounts of foot traffic. With high amounts of exercise energy. People in Ring Fit Adventure constantly expel this stuff as they jog or work out or engage in fit battles. They don’t really direct it anywhere after its release. It just kind of gets absorbed into their surroundings. I always assumed that it helped make the land so lush and pretty, but what if it doesn’t stop there. What if, when large quantities of it gather, exercise energy naturally builds up and condenses itself into permanent, physical solids.

And I thought of Ring. Of the coins that are shaped like him. Of the medals that eerily share his face. Of the treasure chests especially, the way they scream and run and flex as though alive. (And I thought about Dragaux, who’s canonically brilliant, and how even his best statues fell short of capturing that same quality of animation.) I thought about how all three of these byproducts are golden. Just. Like. Ring.

Something like “dark” influence should have a natural counterpart. It’s a tale as old as time; perfect opposites, perfect enemies. But we never meet the Influence’s other half, do we? Just Ring.

Ring, our buddy, our pal. Ring, who’s a person in every way that matters, with hope and dreams and insecurities. Ring the “magical creature,” who, despite all of this, has more in common with Dark Influence than with any other creature in all of Ring Fit.

———

So here is the heart of my crazy theory.

Ring isn’t “partially” made of energy. He’s all energy, all the way down to his every last piece, whether it flows like a river or shines like a stone. And it could be that a long, long time ago, he existed much in the same way as the Dark Influence we fight in the game: as an unrestrained and formless entity. Not as a ring, but as a bright and brainless swathe of flames.

(Because if Dark Influence is insecurity and self-destruction and decay, balance would dictate its opposite be positivity, self-improvement, rebirth. A dangerously Bright Influence.)

And maybe it was just a natural process that got triggered when the conditions were right. But either way, somehow, someway, this particular Influence reincarnated into a shape that could better interact with people, without overwhelming or eating them. And that most natural shape condensed itself into Ring.

A baby Ring.

———

Even if you don’t buy into the existence of “Bright” Influence, Ring fully being some sort of life energy incarnate answers too many questions. It would explain why Ring is so good at manipulating exercise energy; it’s the most natural extension of himself. It would explain why Ring has the unique ability to sync with people; it’s how he originally used to exist, as life energy drifting in and out of living creatures. It would explain the aging. It would explain why Ring never mentions a parent or creator watching over him during childhood; because he came into this world totally alone. (Baby Ring belonged to no one before he belonged with Baby Drags.)

But Ring’s theoretical past life answers a few more questions. It could explain parts of Ring’s personality, his interests. (His dream of spreading positivity across the land.) It explains why there aren’t ten million Rings floating about, when coins and medals and chests are so relatively common. (Because there’s a key ingredient missing). It actually explains his five special powers. (Because I’m betting Influences have human-related origins. It’s either that, or “live humans being consumed” was part of the “perfect” conditions surrounding Ring’s birth. Which, cringe.) But more than anything, it addresses the sheer power imbalance happening between Ring and Dark Influence right now.

Dark Influence lacks boundaries and spreads itself like a virus, thoughtless and instinctive. Ring’s natural weapon against this thing should be to “infect” it right back. (I would expect some sort of sick light show to dance across Dragaux’s body during battle; yellow flames squaring off against purple.) But it doesn’t work that way. Ring the Person no longer works this way.

If Dark influence is a forest fire, then Ring is a fireplace set behind glass. At their core, these two are both energy. But the modes in which they exist divide them into separate skill sets entirely.

Dark Influence is wildfire of brute strength. It’s got range—in the spatial sense. It can spread to as many secondary hosts as Dragaux directs it to, so long as it’s fed well enough to reach for them. Compared to Ring’s measly one syncing partner, Dark Influence can sink itself into whole regions, can simultaneously feed off of so many people. It doesn’t have outright mind control powers; it’s more subtle than that. But its presence as negativity incarnate naturally works like a magnet to draw out the worst in people. There is nothing it enhances in a person that wasn’t already there, no matter how small the weakness. Coupled with the rush of power it imparts in its vessels, it makes bad decisions feel right. Even to good people. It’s, quite simply, a bad influence. (And then it consumes them.)

But other than that, Dark Influence doesn’t really do much.

Our bud Ring may only be able to light one house at a time, so to speak. But as contained as he is—Ring’s powers are more varied and nuanced, because Ring is more varied and nuanced. He’s always actively (and thoughtfully) applying energy to construct, convert, and amplify. For all its fearsome strength, the only thing Dark Influence can seemingly do on purpose, is feed.

———

(If Ring was once a being like Dark Influence, then that solves the final mystery of synchronization. If Dark Influence “infects” its host by sinking into the body, then Ring syncs with a partner by “planting” a piece of his essence inside them. This is why Trainee’s energy signature changes to mimic Ring’s; because she now carries a part of him in her beating heart. This is why Ring can freely access her energy; because this makes her a part of him now, too.)

———

So. Let’s pretend I’m not crazy. Say that all of these little details I’ve collected were intentionally laid out by the game developers. Say I’m correct, and that Ring really is, essentially, the child of Dark Influence’s greatest natural enemy.

The real question is: how self aware is Ring about all of this.

Because unfortunately, Ring not knowing his own backstory could be pretty on-brand for him. I love Ring, but from his point of view, it really could be that he just appeared one day, somehow—as an entirely clean slate. “Dark” or “bright,” these entities are brainless. Literally. No body means no brain. They can’t store memories, so they don’t have memories. Just energy.

Ring must know that he’s made from energy, too. He might even think of himself as one very lucky byproduct. But if this is really what Ring used to be (if there’s even a shadow of a chance that his predecessor used to eat people), then he might not know the full extent of his own story.

And maybe that’s for the best. I can’t imagine him choosing to get close to people otherwise. He loves people, cares so much about every single silly soul that he meets.

This would hurt him.

———

Whatever Ring’s origins may be, whatever he might have once been (if he’s ever been anything else at all)… I do know one thing. And it’s that I prefer him prefer him just the way he is.

Weird comments about my sweat aside, I wouldn’t have him any other way.

———

TL;DR: Our bud Ring has more in common with Dark Influence than with any other creature in all of Ring Fit.

If a flaming entity of negative energy can exist, then why not one made of positive energy? If positive energy condenses into permanent solids naturally and often…if Ring is made of positive energy…if Ring has more in common with Dark Influence than with anything else in this game…

Who’s to say that Ring himself, wasn’t once a flaming yellow mass of energy.

———

This marks the end. I could run wild with all the implications this theory leaves in its wake. But I’ve made my point. I’ve found every answer I was looking for. And they may not have been the answers I was expecting (or even wanting), but they’ve satisfied me all the same.

I’m done. Believe what you will.

Thanks for reading, and for sticking with me all this way. It’s been real.

DISCLAIMER: My name is Pizzazz and I take this game way too seriously. This is all for fun! At the time of this post, I am on World 36 of the post game. I feel pretty strongly about my conclusions, but I’ll go back and edit this if/when/where applicable.

RING ANALYSIS

Part 1: Synchronizing—How it Works and What It Tells Us About Ring

Part 2: Ring’s Powers—And What They All Have In Common

Part 3: Ring’s Biology and Possible Origins

#read at your own risk #ring fit adventure #pizzazz post #ring #Nintendo #dark influence #pizzazz meta #part 3

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 4 years ago

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Silva Lining (Saul Silva x Reader) Chapter 10

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 3.3k

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You were on cloud nine. Waking up in Sauls arms the next morning was the highlight of your life. Granted, you were sore! The discomfort was something you were willing to put up with however because last night was mind blowing.

The morning after was filled with gentle playing and heated make out sessions. It was Sunday so luckily neither of you were expected to be anywhere. You showered together, learning each others bodies further. Saul made you breakfast and after that you lay and watched a movie together. Normal, mundane, relationship stuff. It was all you could dream of.

Unfortunately the time came where you had to go back to your dorm. Instead of doing the walk of shame you opted for your new favourite method of transportation. Portal. Saul kissed you deeply before the black whole appeared and you disappeared through it. At least now you could teleport back and forward into his room having seen the inside more clearly.

The girls jumped when your portal appeared in the middle of the room. They’re were on your instantly, eager for the juicy details. You sat down and gave them the PG version, not delving into too much detail. What you both did last night was personal and not for the faint hearted. You also showed off the presents Saul had gotten you and the Winx club squealed in delight when they saw the ring. After your lowdown of the events last night, the girls let you know that the party was a massive hit and if it wasn’t for Terras hangover potion they’d all still be in bed.

Presents adorned the floor of the main room you notice, someone must have brought them up for you. There were so many you didn’t know if you’d manage to open them all on your own. So one by one the girls helped you unwrap the gracious gifts. That took up a chunk of time. Still chatting and opening, Terra blushed and rattled off about how Helia had kissed her goodnight at the end of the party, then you noticed Aisha blushing too, the same thing had happened with her. The specialists were making moves and you couldn’t help but swell with excitement for your friends. Everything was perfect, maybe too perfect.

——————————————————————————————————

-The Next day-

“What do you think the assembly is about?” Your arm was linked with Stella’s as you walked through the grand halls of the castle you called your school. You’d never get used to your real life Hogwarts.

“It’s a burned one assembly apparently and even worse, my mother is leading it. Yippee. She’s really just here to check on my progress and remind me how much of a disappointment I am.” Your best friend rolled her eyes. You were slightly nervous about meeting the Queen of Solaria, I mean, who wouldn’t be. Stella had insisted you’d stay with her. Emotional support. You took her hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.

The cars pulled up and the chauffeur opened the door for the Queen. Regal and gorgeous, the spitting image of Stella apart from she had brown hair instead of blonde. She came over and greeted Stella with a hug and then stopped. Her eyes widened as she looked at you. She was starring and you didn’t know why….

“Pleasure to meet you your highness.” You curtsied, Stella had shown you how. It seemed to snap the Queen from her daze and she smiled at you.

“How lovely, you must be Y/N, Stella’s told me a lot about you.”

——————————————————————————————————

You’d left Stella to catch up with her mum. Aimlessly wondering the halls looking at features you’d never stopped to appreciate before. Then you saw one flustered looking man.

“Sa- Mr Silva!.” You jogged to catch up to him. He stopped turning. He didn’t smile. Woooah. He looked stressed.

“Now isn’t a great time Y/N.” You wanted to reach out and touch him but there were students all around. Did he really just brush you off though? Must be something serious going on for his shitty attitude.

“Okay.” You whispered. “Well, maybe we can talk when you change your attitude anyway.” You were annoyed. You knew his job was stressful and you knew that you had to act like student and teacher during school hours, however, you’d like to think that he would be a bit more… kinder, even when he was pissed at something else. Before he spoke you’d turned on your heel, flicking your hair behind you and walked off. Suck on that.

——————————————————————————————————

The assembly had started. You weren’t there. You were too annoyed with Saul to sit there while he was up at the front acting as if he wasn’t rude to you two minutes ago. You skipped, wondering the school grounds when you bumped into Bloom.

“Whats your excuse for skipping?” You fell into step with the red head, who explained she was trying to find more about where she came from. Part of you realised that maybe you should have been making more effort in that department. You were still a mystery and going through the books you had stolen from the library in Magix hadn’t turned anything up yet.

You reached a storage cellar, old books, pictures and other junk filled the room to the brim, all covered in dust and cobwebs. Sky was there, he seemed surprised to see you, like wise.

“Maybe while were looking I might find something about me too.” You started searching through things. Not sure at all about what you were looking for when you were then joined by Beatrix and Riven. Not two of your favourite people to say the least.

You didn’t know them too well, but there was a reason for that. Trouble seemed to follow them everywhere and Beatrix gave you a weird vibe. Not good juju. Riven was just a punk. He thought he was the bad boy but it was all an act which you saw straight through. Example A. Beatrix just dropped the bomb that Riven was the one walking around school telling everyone Bloom was a changeling. You still didn’t see the big deal about changelings. You were one too after all. Sky and Riven left, leaving you alone with the two girls.

“So, that door is locked. Are we breaking in or not?” You didn’t wait for their answer. Curiosity getting the best of you. Walking over you put your hand on the lock and picture it heating up. Fire. Another one of the many abilities you possessed. Your magic was second nature to you now. Like you’d been practising for years. It was scary and cool at the same time just how intone with your abilities you were. The lock fell off and the door swung open.

——————————————————————————————————

What the hell had you been dragged into. Honestly this wasn’t really your style. But hey, you’d gotten this far. You were currently in a stolen car, driving to some place called Asterdale. Bloom had a theory that’s where her parents might be from and hey, what do you know, Beatrix knows where it is. So yup, you were in the front of a stolen.. ROYAL car.

Ohhh lord. This wasn’t going to end well.

- Sauls POV -

Where the hell was she. Why wasn’t she at the assembly?! Saul was ragging, scared, angry at himself for being so flippant with Y/N earlier. The visit from the Queen and with the death of a teacher, it was a lot to deal with. He hadn’t meant to take it out on his sweet girl. Now he was just worried. Leaving the assembly would look suspicious so he stayed, part of him hoping she was just running late.

His fears got worse when he went back to Farah’s office. Farah had noticed Y/N wasn’t there either. She was more worried than she’d ever been. Then Y/N’s suit mates burst through the door looking worried too.

“Y/N and Bloom were in the east wing its Beatrix during assembly.” Saul, Farah and Ben all looked at each other.

“Okay and why were they down there?” Farah was quick to get it in the neck from Musa. Who was visibly concerned about something. Saul couldn’t stand still, pacing back and forward.

“Omg we know, we know that someone killed Callum and you think it was a fairy and that’s what you were looking for in the assembly!” Saul’s head whipped round to Terra. “We haven’t heard from them in hours and no one as seen Beatrix either.” Saul’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice through the ear piece he was wearing.

“One of the Queens Guards are knocked out, his SUV is gone.” Sauls jaw clenched and made his way to the door. He was mad. If Beatrix had hurt his girl in any way, there would be hell to pay.

“We will find them, I promise.”

——————————————————————————————————

-Your POV-

The place Beatrix took you to was bare. Was this some kind of sick joke? You drove two hours for this? Nothing but open fields and shrubs next to a steep looking cliff over looking choppy, cold water.

“And this is where you’ve taken us to kill us, right?” You joked but part of you was actually worried. You’d always thought Beatrix was a shady bitch. “Asterdale is a town right? So where is it?” You stopped, looking into the vastness. Bloom looked twitchy, annoyed almost because you guaranteed she was thinking the same thing as you.

You were alarmed all of a sudden when your ears pricked up at the sound of electricity, turning just in time to see Bloom shouting at Beatrix who’s hands were glowing with power.

“You’re not the only powerful fairies at Alfea you know.” Yup, you were right. You were so about to die. You raised your hands ready for a fight but the bolt of blue electricity burst past you hitting an invisible forcefield just like the one that surrounded the school and crashed with a loud bang, revealing chaos behind it.

Beatrix went on to tell you both about how Asterdale used to be a beautiful place, but one winter Burned Ones surrounded the settlement and a Military Unit from Alfea decided destroying the Burned Ones was more important than the lives of the people living there. How Queen Luna was the one who had put up the veil that stopped people from really seeing what had happened to the once thriving village. Then she went onto drop the bomb that Asterdale is where she was born and her family were killed there. The only people who survived were her… and you and Bloom. You were from Asterdale?

“I saw it, Dowling, Silva, Harvey.” Beatrix had tears rolling down her face. No, no…. Saul would never kill innocent people. Never. He couldn’t… that wasn’t your Saul. You whipped quickly at the stray tears that had fallen. He knew about this and he didn’t tell you? Did he know where you were from and he didn’t tell you because… he had a hand in killing a village full of innocents?

You’d heard enough and couldn’t bare to listen to anymore. You walked away, Beatrix and Bloom still talking about what had happened. You watched as the veil came down again slowly, covering up the evidence of a war crime. It was gone, just like that. As if nothing ever happened. As if the people that had once lived there never mattered. Forgotten in time.

Bloom still didn’t trust Beatrix, and neither did you. You opted for sitting in the back this time. Keeping an eye on the girl you hardly knew. What game was she playing? You felt like there had to be more to the story. Why would you and Bloom be hidden away in the first world? Why would Dowling, let you and Bloom into the school knowing that she killed your families?

“And we will get it because Rosalind is alive.” You caught the tail end of the convo, having been zoned out with your own thoughts. Hold the fuck up. The mysterious woman who had been leaving cryptic messages in Blooms head was.. Alive? After Miss Dowling told her that she had been dead for years. The plot thickens. You were about to make a comment but something on the road caught your eye.

“Oh fuck.” You braced yourself against the seat in the back as you watched Saul fire an arrow at the wheel of the car. It burst, sending the car skidding across the road. This was nottt going to be good.

You all jumped out of the car, Beatrix tried to run but Farah had used her magic and she was slowly sinking into the ground. Miss Dowling walked over, slapping on two bracelets on Beatrix’ wrists, it looked like coiled pieces of barbed wire. You didn’t care if B was shady, no one deserved that pain. Both you and Bloom bolted from the car with shouts of protest. You were lifted up into Sauls arms where you kicked and screamed to get free. Bloom was held back by Mr Harvey who was a lot stronger than he looked. You gave up, settling into Sauls arms, he was whispering in your ear trying to calm you, his hold on you tightening. Normally you’d feel comfort in his touch, but the story from Beatrix left you with some unanswered questions too big to go ignored.

——————————————————————————————————

The girls were waiting for you outside. Stella grabbed you in a hug, you could tell she was worried. Saul was carting Beatrix away to her magic prison cell, not before letting you know that he’d speak to you later. Duty called. Duty sucked.

“Y/N, after we deal with Beatrix see me in my office, there’s something important we must discuss.” You glared at Miss Dowling who gave you a sympathetic look. Stella squeezed your arm.

“Y/N, you need to hear what she has to say. It’s important.” How did Stella know what she wanted to talk about. This whole day was one big bowl of confusing and you just wanted it to be over with. “Just know, I’ll be here when you’re ready, I promise.” Okay, so that wasn’t worrying at all…..

“I’m afraid miss Y/L/N, Stella won’t be able to keep that promise any time soon. Were leaving, Stella get in the car.” Stella’s eyes widened as she watched her things from the dorm being packed into her mothers car. The Queen was waiting for Stella to do what she said and this was one battle you wouldn’t win. Could you catch a break?

“No, No, NO, Stella you can’t leave, please I need you, you’re my best friend.” You were crying, the frustrations of the day coming out all at once. Stella was crying too but the Queens guards took her by the arms despite her struggles and stuffed her in the car. It was too much, you were sobbing, your vision blurry from the tears. You felt someone come up behind you and noticed the familiar tingle, crying harder as the car sped off into the distance. You turned and screamed in Sauls chest, luckily his strong arms were around you otherwise you’d have fallen to the ground in despair. Could today get any worse?

——————————————————————————————————

Replaying the events from today to the other girls was hard. Luckily Bloom did most of the talking. Beatrix had apparently killed Callum and things were even more confusing now. You didn’t know who to trust, who to believe. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Saul. Your tired looking soldier was standing at the door with heavy eyes. “Babe, can you come with me please, Farah wants to talk to you.” She’d already spoken to Bloom about the events earlier. Now it was your turn after having time to calm down about Stella.

Standing up silently, you made your way to the door, the girls hugging you on the way out. You had the urge to ask Saul everything there and then. Let the cat out of the bag. Say ‘I know what you did,’ but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You didn’t want to believe the reason you were an orphan was because of the man you loved. Instead you took his hand when the coast was clear and sighed, having needed his touch all day.

You found yourself at the Headmistresses office more often than not these days, but this time something felt different. You turned to Saul and look him in the eyes.

“Why do I feel like if I go in there life will never be the same again.” His hand came up to touch your cheek which you leant into, savouring his warm touch.

“Darling, everything is okay, everything will be okay I promise.” People had been making a lot of promises today, hopefully they would be able to keep them. You started for the door but then noticed Saul didn’t budge.

“Are you not coming in?” You tilted your head. He shook his and gave you a kiss before you went through the doors.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me though.” With that you left him, facing whatever punishment Headmistress Dowling had in store for you.

——————————————————————————————————

It hadn’t been as bad as you thought in the beginning. She sat you down, asked you if you wanted a drink or anything. Then she got into the nitty gritty stuff about what compelled you to go with Beatrix and Bloom. Answers. Answers you needed, that’s why you went with them.

“Bloom said something about her parents being from a place called Asterdale, Beatrix knew where it was. She took us there, we hoped we would find answers about why we were changelings. Turns out we learnt an ugly truth instead.” Farah looked shocked but you continued. “She said that Rosalind took her, me and Bloom, saved us from destruction cause by you, Silva and Harvey. Is that true?” Farah had her head in her hands. Guilt. You could practically smell it on her.

“It’s not what you think Y/N, please believe me, there’s more to the story.” She stood up, walking around to stand next to you. You stood up to, moving away from the woman who had set Saul up to spy on you. How could you believe her, all she’s done since you joined this world was lie.

“Why would I believe you! You killed my fucking parents!” You were angry. So angry, You could feel your eyes turning black. The shouting had alerted Saul who tried the door handles to get into the room but with a swish of your hand, the door was sealed shut, fire melting the hinges closed.

“Just calm down Y/N, please, lets talk about this.” In the background Saul was banging on the door and calling your name.

“Because of you, I don’t have a father, because of you I’ll never know my mother!” You advanced on the woman who had her hands up ready for a fight if that’s what it came to. You could feel the power coursing through your whole body. This is why you could control your magic so easily, you were so emotional.

“Y/N, I am your mother!” Farah screamed, Saul stopped banging on the door and your eyes faded back to their normal colour.

You knew before stepping into the room that something was going to happen and you were right, your world would be changed forever.

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So, I bet you didnt expect that to happen.. Please let me know what you thought in the comments, Like, Follow and Reblog! <3 If you want to join the tag list please let me know !

CHAPTER 11 ------- CLICK HERE

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narrans · 3 years ago

Text

Everyone needs a little Hero | Rings and Memories

The apartment complex wasn’t the newest and had few features that could be identified as the “latest and greatest.” Sometimes there were problems with the water and sometimes the lights flickered at odd times of the day and night. Every so often, things would go missing or just get misplaced.

One thing this apartment complex did have, however, were stories. Each of its dozen floors held people from different places and backgrounds. Some people were thriving, others trying to make their way. Some were going through hardships and a few just need a friend – someone to talk to.

One other thing this place had among its labyrinth of walls and wires was a whole other world – a smaller world consisting of dozens of families. Some of them big, some of them small, but all of them little – these were the Borrowers.

The four-inch folk live in quiet solitude, surviving by taking what they need in pieces, parts, fragments, and segments. Rarely did something of significance go missing and, even then, it was the humans’ fault for being so clumsy.

There were rules for keeping themselves undiscovered by the humans and, for the most part, these rules were upheld. There were times where humans spread rumors or asked if there were mice and such in the building. Thankfully, the Borrowers had managed to steer clear of the exterminators and their traps.

It was one of their biggest fears – to be seen and caught by a human.

Hero grew up with two older brothers, an older sister, and a younger sister. He also had his parents, grandparents, and even a great-grandfather. His family had never immigrated, a rarity among their kind, and had always been careful. Subtly, the young Borrower with sandy brown hair and bright green eyes had always feared the humans, but also found them fascinating.

Humans were dangerous, yes, but were also ingenuitive and forward thinking. They had creativity and passion as well as the means to do so. Hero knew they had the ability to do horrendous things, but they also had the power to do good.

Every once in a while, he would venture through the walls and listen to the humans watching that big flat thing called a T.V. or a screen. They watched scary things, but the thing Hero was fascinated with was the show about villains and, like his name, heroes.

These heroes had powers and would fight against injustice, whatever that was, and the bad people hurting other people. Some could shoot lasers while others could fly. Some were strong. Some could use their hair. One thing that hero noticed about all of these people was that it didn’t matter who they were or what they looked like – they were all heroes.

Some of them, he noticed, didn’t even have powers. There was one boy who was drawn with green hair and cried a lot that talked about what it meant to be a hero – and somehow the young Borrower found this inspiring. He knew from that moment on he had to live up to his name.

Now, how he was going to go about this he wasn’t sure. He had only just had his thirteenth birthday and was three or so inches on a good day. Needless to say, height was going to be a slight issue, but it wouldn’t stop him. According to some people on a thing called the “inner-net,” you didn’t need to save lives or stop buildings from falling down to make a difference in someone’s life.

This is the notion that Hero clung to one night as he debated for the hundredth time with himself. He didn’t need to be big to make a difference. In fact, some guy by the name of “Gamdalf” said that it was the ordinary actions of small folk that made a difference.

It was settled – and Hero knew who he wanted to help first.

On the third floor, there was an elderly couple who loved each other very much. Hero liked going down and listening to them talk. They were hilarious, mostly because they were forgetful from time to time and would move things without telling the other.

“Where are my glasses?” asked the woman. “Well, I don’t know dear. They were on your head. Did you check there?” the man would respond, all the while wearing them on his head because he thought those were his glasses.

Hero could watch them for hours and be amused. There were a few times, accidentally, where he was laughing so hard that they stopped and looked up at the trim near the ceiling. “Those neighbor kids must think something’s pretty funny.” A handful of those comments made Hero well aware he needed to be careful even when they had a hard time remembering.

The final straw in his debate on helping them first in fact came from the saddest of events. The elderly man, on night, had fallen and went to some place for him to get better called a “hospital,” but that didn’t happen.

The woman came back so very sad and Hero wanted nothing more than to cheer her up. He had to come up with something, and he had to do it quickly as he began to hear rumors that she was immigrating and could see boxes being loaded up.

It was just after dinner and his siblings were out borrowing except for his younger sister Winnie, who was far too young to go borrowing being only six. Hero stood in his room with all of his necessary supplies laid on his bed.

He had a fishing hook, a safety pin, one band-aid, a pin, battery lamp with a new borrowed bulb, a piece of razor, and a strong line which he had checked a dozen times. There were a few moments where he paused to breathe, staring at his muddled reflection in a piece of tin foil he kept in his room.

“Heroes usually have some kind of outfit or a cape. Do I need a cape? I don’t know. Capes get in the way. What about a mask? Naw, that won’t work. It might get in my eyes. This is fine for now.” Hero puffed out his chest, grabbed his backpack of supplies, and headed out through the halls.

He made sure to wave to his grandparents as he ran past their hallway. His little legs carried him at a steady pace past the pipes to the wires he had to lay on to cross from one wall joist to the next. The drop was at least a floor and would certainly be a problem if he were to slip, but the wires were coated with rubber and were nice and thick. Hero had also learned the pro-tip from his oldest brother, Atlas, of hooking the safety pin from his backpack onto the line. Since it was strapped to him, it added an extra safety measure.

Hero slowed his jog to a brisk walk as everything began setting in for him. Was he ready for something like this? He was only 13 after all. He had been borrowing on his own, but this would be different in that now he was going to purposefully move something for the human to notice and become curious about.

Hero cupped his palms and smacked his face lightly to snap himself out of it. It wasn’t like he was going to be seen or anything. Plus, the elderly woman was forgetful. Even if he were seen, she would most likely forget. Right?

The labyrinth of walls passed by quicker than expected. Before the young Borrower knew it, he was standing above one of the ceiling fan tiles that they used to observe. He could already hear the daughter and the older lady talking.

“Mom, what are you looking for?” asked the daughter.

“I… well… I’m sure I saw it in here somewhere,” the older woman replied.

“Dad’s ring?” prompted the daughter. “Mom, you looked in there already. It’s been lost for years.”

“Pish posh I remember seeing it just the other day,” the mother responded as she continued to rummage through the next box. She started taring the tape off of another when the daughter intervened.

“Here, mom, why don’t you check this box,” she suggested, but the mother shook her head.

“No, I distinctly remember seeing it by the couch. These boxes must be on top of it.”

Hero listened for a few more minutes, saddened by the encounter, now knew what he had to do – he was going to find that ring. He pulled himself from the ceiling tile, ensuring it was secure, before heading for the nearest wall that could take him to the ground, which was not a far walk. The path to and from this apartment was well used and so had a permanent line anchored to it.

The sheer drop down was enough to makes his knees weaken and his head spin with vertigo. Heights weren’t always an issue, but that little bit of nervousness was something Hero took as a good sign. If he weren’t nervous, he might miss checking something before climbing the line. There was darkness below where there was usually light. Must be a bad bulb. He wrapped his hands around the line, checked his footing, and descended the line knot after knot.

It took some time, but he finally reached the ground by the floorboards. The walls absorbed the light on his hip lamp. Small dust particles drifted around in the air, lingering as the footsteps above knocked them loose. The Christmas lights which usually illuminated most of the main hallways they traversed were still hanging on the walls on top of the thumbtacks.

Something about the air didn’t set right with Hero. There was an eerie stillness under the floorboards of the older woman’s apartment. Hero felt himself freezing. There was a nervousness in his chest. His heart was beating so incredibly fast now. When did that happen?

The determined boy couldn’t let these things bother him now. He puffed out his chest with a deep inhale and stepped further into the darkness. The joists towered above him at a whole seven inches and effectively had him surrounded on his left and right. Hero began walking up and down the floor joists, starting where he was at the entrance and working his way to the sitting area.

Hero knew where the old woman’s couch was in the apartment; and he also knew there were several wide floorboards and some holes the other Borrowers had left in case they needed to make a hasty exit. Maybe it was unlikely, but Hero suspected that if something had been knocked into the floor, it could have fallen through one of their hiding holes.

He passed by a few more unilluminated lights and noticed a few of the wires were exposed – chewed through. Suddenly, his keen ears picked up something. If he hadn’t been on edge, he might’ve missed it. The light on the hip lamp only illuminated a foot or so in every direction, but sound didn’t need the light to be heard.

A skittering sound of clawed feet scraped just on the other side of one of the joists. It stopped. Then it started again. Immediately, his heart leapt into his throat and the Borrower boy stopped dead in his tracks. Hero instinctively pulled his pin from his side and held his hip light in his right hand.

He peered around the corner and could see with his bright green eyes the small tail of a mouse skittering away from the little bit of light from Hero’s lamp. He exhaled shakily. Maybe he wouldn’t need to fight it today. He glanced down the passage and decided to follow behind carefully.

Cautious step after cautious step, Hero eventually heard the mouse head back down through the walls as he turned down the next corridor. Sadly, there were only three left for him to check.

As he walked down the next hall feeling discouraged, he realized that there was a slight glint up ahead. Still brandishing the pin, Hero stepped forward with the light extended until he recognized the shape of a circle – a ring. He had found it!

The tarnishing silver ring was thick and heavy with writing Hero didn’t recognize. Reading was something his parents insisted that he learn, but even that didn’t help him with these words. There was also some kind of glittery rock in the middle. Now all that needed to be done was get it to the humans without getting caught. This was going to be interesting.

First and foremost – move it. It took some time, but the ring was eventually wrestled into the borrowing bag. The weight was significant and made normal borrowings feel light as a feather. Still, this would not stop the mission.

Hero now had to determine where to put it. Both of the humans were still at home and, from the sound of it, things were being moved around. Hero was usually very dexterous and quick, but he was incumbered by the weight. So, going up right then and there was out of the question.

While he walked back through the halls, he made his decision. He would wait until nighttime and put it in the woman’s bedroom where he knew she could find it – her bedside table. The thought of being so terribly close to a human made his insides flip anxiously. Still, he knew he had to persevere.

The trek to the elderly woman’s room was a long one and one that was taken with caution. That mouse was still roaming around and the last thing that Hero needed was a confrontation when he was debating how to get on top of the table with the ring in tow.

While he walked, he thought of scenario after scenario. I could climb it, obviously, but the weight on my back may make me tired before I reach the top. I could try to pull it up once I climbed to the top, but that leaves me on top of the table for a bit longer than I would want. I could try and tie one end to the ring and one end to me, jump, and have it slingshot up to the top.

Before he knew it, he was under the floor of the bedroom. Hero let his pack slump off of his shoulders and onto the ground, rubbing the aching muscles and tendons in his shoulders. Up above, he could hear the sounds of feet shuffling against the ground. She must be getting ready for bed. Earlier than normal.

The teen waited until the shuffling stopped to make his move, which he finally figured out. He was going to pull the ring up onto the desk. Climbing would be too tiresome and he weighed more than the ring, even if his shoulders argued otherwise, and couldn’t control the descent.

The pack was back on his shoulders again and he was on his way. Up through the opening in the baseboard under the bed, Hero tread lightly up to the immense bedside table, extinguishing his light before arriving. His keen ears picked up on the light sound of breathing just above him. Perfect. Completely quiet.

He tied the line onto his bag tightly before removing his hook. Pause for a breath. Aim. Swing. Swing. Hero let the hook fly from his hands and heard the hook sink in with a firm knock. Perfect. He shimmied up the rope in no time, glancing over to see the sleeping woman barely two feet from him. A shiver ran down his spine. It was completely involuntary and it was only then that Hero realized this was the closest he had ever been to a human before.

Everything about them was so much bigger than him. Their faces. Those eyes. It made his head and insides flip and swirl at the very notion of their hands. Don’t think about that now. You need to get the ring back on the table. He began pulling his bag up with the line. It tapped the table a few times on its ascent, which made him freeze and watch. Not a single stir.

It wasn’t until Hero had pulled up the bag and began pulling out the ring that he heard the older woman stir, shifting under the sheets that could easily smother him. His heartrate spiked, forcing him to swallow dryly as he finished pulling the ring free from the satchel.

The ring was right there in view next to the clock and the lamp. It wouldn’t be hard to find. Hero had almost reached his line when he heard something.

“What the… what is…” the voice of the elderly woman, still saturated with a groggy tiredness. Hero’s breath hitched in his throat. Every impulse shrieked. He almost threw himself off of the table when he saw a hand beginning to emerge from beneath the quilts and covers. Instead, he threw his bag over one shoulder and grabbed the line.

The rope burned his fingers and palms and he landed on the ground with a definite thud just as the light came on. There was no time. He back peddled as fast as he could from the line, regretting using his best hook. He was halfway to the hidden entrance when he heard her speak again.

“Oh… my… Stuart’s ring…” Hero stopped in his tracks. Stuart? Was that his name? The older man? “Oh… thank you little sprite.” Hero’s breath stopped completely. Was she able to see anything? Would she look?

All he knew was he heard the clattering of his hook on the ground, a sniffly sob, and then the lights turned out again. It was a risk, but Hero needed his hook. He quickly darted back and retrieved the hook; however, just before he left, he uttered the smallest “you’re welcome” before darting back into the cover of the walls.

Mission – success! Maybe he was seen. Maybe the old woman believed in such things. He didn’t know. What was certain was he had made someone’s day a little better; and that’s all that really mattered to him.

~Thanks for reading. Have any humans Hero needs to help? Suggestions and prompts welcome down below. Stay awesome!

Continue

Beginning

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secret-engima · 4 years ago

Note

Can we see some criminal reactions/meeting with the ringmaster? Possibly some big territory debate thing and some new upstart starts talking shit about this stupid ringmaster and all the rules?

Uhhh okay! Please note this may not be canon for Gremlin verse since atm I don't have any solid criminals-meet-Ringmaster scenes planned out aside from like- one and it's friendly.

-They're a new gang setting up shop near the docks. Imports from Mantle who finally got tired to dodging Atlas's security drones. They're traffickers of just about anything, from expensive but usually legal goods to drugs and people.

-They've been settled for maybe two weeks, just putting out some feelers, and are surprised when the local underworld gives one of two reactions: refusing to so much as speak with them, or nervous chuckling and a warning that if they keep being so obvious about what they do, they'll get the attention of the Ringmaster.

-"The Ringmaster? Who the heck is that?" Mantle's underworld might not be the thriving hub that Mistral's is, but they're not usually out of the loop. If the Ringmaster was a name for one of the local underworld bosses or kings, they should have heard of them before now.

-New blood, they're told by the few groups who will cautiously interact with them. New blood with power and charisma and Rules™. Rules that get enforced, usually after one warning, sometimes after three for the milder breaks. For things like drugs and person trafficking however, there is only ever one warning. If they get caught doing that, even outside the Ringmaster's territory, they will be destroyed. Smuggling in other things like expensive foods, Dust, and hard to get but legal items is tolerated, even permitted within the Ringmaster's territory and weapons are tolerated on a territory basis only, but drugs and people? Hard no. There are consequences, and even those who don't answer to the Ringmaster directly are skittish of touching the stuff. Nobody wants a gang war, it's bad for business. But the locals, even the ones who are known as powerhouses in their own right, seem wary of the war less because of the potential damage and more because they seem to think they'd lose.

-The group from Mantle scoff. They've never heard of this Ringmaster, and who cares what other gangs do so long as they stay in their territory? They've dealt with Atlas security, some uppity new blood with a pesky honor code means nothing to them.

-The other gangs all collectively exchange glances and take a long step back.

-For the first month or so, there's no sign of this Ringmaster. The gang stays close to their tiny territory pocket, sets up some trade rings in their more palatable stock. Then, once the income is trickling in, they move for the big haul.

-Slums are always a good place to lure in marks, and Faunus always sell well, even if humans are more of a premium. It's easier to make Faunus disappear though. Faunus bias runs deep on both sides, both in humans who won't look as hard, and Faunus who believe that humans won't bother looking, so why bother telling? Even though there are actually plenty of officers, human and Faunus, who would risk their skin gladly to rescue anyone, extra ears or no.

-They've snagged about ten marks and are hoping to round that number up to thirty before selling them off to various buyers in Mistral and Mantle when the warning shows up. It's delivered right to their door, and none of them know how they didn't hear the racket of someone hammering a paper notice onto their door.

-"Return the people and cease selling drugs and people or leave entirely. This city does not welcome your kind. -Ringmaster."

-They *laugh*. Really? A note? Big Whoop. Besides, they were careful not to take anyone from inside the Ringmaster's territory, so what business it is of theirs?

-Four nights pass, they snag three more marks, one of which is a particular prize, a young human boy, dark skinned and green eyed. His price will be lowered a little from the limp he seems to have, but his scar like tattoos are intriguing and his face is pretty enough they figure they'll still get quite a bit. The boy is oddly calm as they push him into the warehouse with the others, watching them with almost eerie green-gold eyes as he says calmly that they should let everyone go. It's not right, he says softly, to sell lives. And if they don't stop, they're going to regret it.

-They laugh some more as they shove him into the worried arms of a young Faunus mother who already has a few other children she's been trying to comfort.

-Three hours.

-That's how long it takes for the world to come down around their ears.

-The warehouse is taken first, all the marks gone in what feels like one blink, then it's set on fire, fueled with Dust so there's no hope of recovering the building. Their four backup safehouses are gone by the end of the hour, members of the group either trussed up and knocked out and dumped on the doorstep of the police or killed where they stand if they tried to fight back.

-In three hours, their central base of operation is all that's left, and they learn quickly that there is nowhere left to run.

-Roman Torchwick spins his cane idly as he saunters in, backed by his silent partner. They're both known entities in the underworld and have been for years. The leader spits at Torchwick, mocking the name Ringmaster as pretentious even for a thief and crime lord like him.

-Torchwick smiles, it's not a nice expression, "Oh. I'm not the Ringmaster. That's my boss."

-A flourish and a sidestep and the gang cringes back in disbelief and shock as a massive Grimm shoulders its way through the broken doorway.

-Perched on its back, a dark king on a fallen steed, is the boy. Those eerie green-gold eyes look at them in disappointment, in knowing, and the Dust orbs in his elaborate cane gleam warningly when a few of them inch hands toward hidden knives.

-No way. This is the Ringmaster? This child?

-"You were warned," says the boy in a voice too calm and too mature for his skin, "I'll give you one more chance. Surrender and turn yourselves and all relevant evidence in to the police, and you won't die."

-The leader of the group from Mantle snarls and pulls out a hidden pistol, taking aim at the boy.

-He's dead before the safety of the gun can click off.

-The other child, silver haired and grinning like a wild thing, lowers his foot, the shot from whatever weapon he has hidden in his boots echoing through the house. The Grimm looms large, jaws parting in an echoing snarl of warning, one massive paw rising to show huge claws.

-The child -the Ringmaster- doesn't so much as flinch. He just shifts those eyes to those that remain with a silent question in his eyes.

-Many of them decide that dealing with the law is better than dying at the hands of this- this demon child.

-None of them question anymore why Vale's underworld treats the Ringmaster with respect, even if the factions that do not yet answer to him.

#SE asks #anon asks #Team Gremlin verse #oscar pine #oscar pine being a crime lord #friendship is nice #but sometimes murder is necessary

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rivetwrites · 4 years ago

Note

byakuya togami for the fluff alphabet?

//yes of course!!

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Byakuya Togami Fluff Alphabet

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

He’s very much a loner, and absolutely hates being around people who are loud and utterly obnoxious. His preferred activity with his S/O would be reading in his study. Little to no words would be spoken, rather, just enjoying each other’s presence. Maybe if he was in a good mood, he’d rest his hand on your thigh as he read his novel.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He, while he would never admit it, loves everything about you. But if he had to choose, he’d admire your patience. It takes a great deal of patience to get through his walls and be able to put up with his sharp tongue. He truly does envy your tolerance for him. On you, however, he loves your eyes. He loves how they would be filled with absolute determination to get to him and his problems.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

This man is absolutely horrendous at comforting people. He would awkwardly pat your back as you sobbed into his chest. Sure, he’s slightly annoyed that his suit is getting wet, but he could see how truly upset you are, so he holds back any snarky remarks. Afterwards, he’d pull away and start complimenting you. And you know he means those compliments, since he never gives them to anyone else. D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

As a Togami, he absolutely needs an heir. So starting a family with you would be his ultimate goal in the future. However, if you’re unable to have a child, he would push aside the Togami blood to adopt a child with you. Yes, he knows that it’s horrible for his family line, but to him, you’re way more important. E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He’s usually would be the “man of the house,” but he does believe that no matter your gender, relationships should be equal. Though, he would prefer to pay for your dates, no matter how much you say to split the bill. F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Byakuya is extremely petty at times. So whenever you have a fight, which would probably be about the most petty thing, he would go to his study to pout. If he was in the wrong, he would never admit it....at least at first. He does a lot of thinking when he’s alone, so ultimately, if you’re also as stubborn, he’d suck up his pride and go apologize to you. “Sorry that, somehow, I was slightly in the wrong. Forgive me.” It’s not the best apology, but it’s more than what anyone else has ever gotten. G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s extremely observant, more so to you. If you ever did small things, like make his morning coffee, or make a small snack for him while he worked away in his office, he would absolutely notice. Though, he doesn’t vocally say thank you. He’d start making you your favourite drink or snack as well, whenever he sees you slightly stressed. Don’t mention it though, he would get extremely embarrassed. H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

This is Byakuya, he’s extremely blunt and honest with everyone. But whenever he’s feeling sad, or stressed, he would be very drawn away from you. It’s not like he doesn’t love you, he just needs some space. Though if you do come to him, he would open up slightly. He trusts you a lot, but he prefers to deal with his problems by himself. I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Byakuya probably helped his S/O by sharpening their tongue. And his S/O, probably helped him stop being such an asshole to everyone. He has a lot of trouble with his ego, so with you around, he mellows out a lot. Unless he doesn’t like the person, or if the person makes fun of you. Then he just lets out what he’s been holding back onto them.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He does get jealous, of course, but not in the way you think. He trusts you, but he doesn’t trust people around you. He believes that you love him a lot, and he knows you would never cheat on him, but the people around you might take advantage of your kindness. Usually, whenever someone is flirting with you, or getting a bit too friendly, he’d push past his modesty to kiss your hand right in front of them. That would push them away, but the off chance it doesn’t, he’d chew them out. K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He’s Byakuya, he’s naturally good at everything. But his first kiss would’ve probably been with you, so he wanted it to be perfect. It would’ve been after a very expensive date, taking you back to your home. Before he could even say anything, you’d steal a quick kiss from him before going inside. Finally, Byakuya was stunned into silence. For once, he didn’t know what to say. It didn’t go exactly how he wanted it to go, but to be honest, he loved a good surprise sometimes. L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

This man would take a confession to his grave. You’d have to be the one to confess to him. He would have the biggest smirk on his face as you stumbled through your words. He’d act like it wasn’t a big deal, or it was a chore to accept your feelings. But on the inside, he let out the largest sigh of relief this guy could muster. M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Absolutely he wants to get married to you. He knew it the moment you two went on your first date. And of course, he’s never wrong. You’d think he would propose to many people, stroking his ego as you’d accept, but he would hate that. He would have a nice dinner at your home, which is off for him, but he wanted to pay attention to you, and only you. After you finish your dinner, he’d pop the question. “Yes, I know you might cry, I know I’m amazing, but to me, you’re even more so. It would be an honour to spend the rest of my life with you. S/O, would you marry me?” Of course he had to put in a bit of ego. The ring would be expensive, and of course, completely real. He would never taint your perfect hands with fake metal. Your wedding with him would be extravagant, but yet modest. Only inviting close friends and family, the people worthy of seeing you in your most beautiful attire. N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

In public, he would only call you by your first name, unless someone is getting friendly, then he would call you, “my dear.” In private, “darling,” “my love,” “dearest,” would be his norm. Or maybe a cute little nickname he made for you, which he would only say when you two are getting ready to sleep. O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Usually, he wouldn’t change how he is in public, but with just you, he would be more touchy and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He loves it when you become putty in his hands, pulling you close to him as he allowed you two to cuddle for the time being, which never happens often. P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Absolutely not. His relationships are extremely private, so it’s the one thing he would never gloat about you to anyone. He loves you, of course, but he respects your privacy. His love for you, should only be for you to know. Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Lets be real here, Byakuya isn’t the best at relationships. But he’s the absolute best at making you feel better about yourself. He doesn’t give you many compliments, but whenever you feel bad about yourself, he would drop everything he’s doing, and tell you exactly how you’re wrong. Listing every little thing about you that makes him love you so much. R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

As much as he hates clichés, he’s extremely cliché. He takes you out on expensive dinners, kissing your hand out of respect, opening doors for you, complimenting you, the whole nine yards. He’s very romantic at heart and when he wants to be. S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Absolutely. If you have a goal in your life, he would do everything in his power to help you achieve it. He believes all goals should be treated equally, and people should be able to achieve it if they put their heart to it. As cheesy as it sounded, he’s truly believed that. He would quietly be your number one supporter, no matter how much he denies it. T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He completely needs a routine. This guy thrives off of perfection, so he would have weekly dates, and alone time in the bedroom. If anything ever changes, he wouldn’t be mad, annoyed, maybe, but only because he’s not used to his routines being broken. U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Byakuya has a very hard time knowing when he’s upset you, but he genuinely doesn’t want to. You’re the best thing that’s happened in his life, so once he knows that he’s hurt your feelings, he’d be super guilty. He’d pull the whole romance cliché to make you feel better. He’d push past his inflated ego and pride to make sure you’re not saddened because of him and his unfiltered mouth. V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Money was never ever a problem with him, but you, you could never be replaced. He can afforded to lose money, or maybe some expensive item, but you are priceless to him, no matter how much he says otherwise. W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Byakuya is a huge sleep cuddler, even if he denies it in the morning. As soon as he thinks you’re asleep, he’d wrap his long arms around you, and pull you comfortably into his chest. If you catch him, he’d nearly throw you off of the bed, his face pure red from embarrassment. X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He’s not a very affectionate person, like his body rejects any affection he receives. But once he wants, or needs the affection, he’d come to you instead. Forehead kisses, temple kisses, and hand kisses are his favourites. It makes him feel like he’s protecting you. Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He’d distract himself with his work, or with reading. He could never get you out of his mind, no matter how much he tries to. As soon as you return home, he’d scoop you into his arms and hide his face in your hair, swaying slightly as he greets you. Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Byakuya loves you, and would do everything to make sure you’re safe. He has a few people to protect you if he’s away on a trip, especially with the Future Foundation. He would absolutely give his life away, just to save yours.

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #mod oma #byakuya togami #fluff alphabet #byakuya x reader #trigger happy havoc #dr1

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ushijimas-koibito · 4 years ago

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request no. 1

request: clingy ushiwaka. the partner has the same haircut as him and is trying to get their work done.

author’s note: thank you so much @im-cold-so-gimme-your-hoodie! i appreciate your request and will give it my best. i hope you enjoy and i look forward to hearing your feedback.

title: toshi comes home.

warnings: suggestive behavior, kissing, nudity, cheese, fluff

listening: crush on you by elijah who; it’s finally raining again by elijah who; sincerely, yours by nohidea; my new love by elijah who; frozen by sabrina claudio; wanna know by sabrina claudio; this town by ama lou; could’ve been by H.E.R and bryson tyler; i fall in love too easily by caleb belkin; wild by dijon; goodbye, good luck by sad face; laundry day by joey pecorano; monday loop by tomppabeats; give me something by joey pecorano

5:30; his flight should land soon and he would be back in your arms. ushijima wakatoshi, your partner, was returning home today after a very long national press tour. the two of you had video chatted every night, but it wasn’t the same as having him here with you. you felt a little guilty as you wait there in the airport lobby answering emails. you thought you timed everything right. you were sure you would finish everything for work by tuesday; and you would… but today is monday. how you got the dates confused, you will never know as you are an extremely punctual, efficient, and timely person. you had to be as a project manager for a major up-and-coming tech company. you and ushijima were something of a power couple. two of the youngest but most powerful people in your respective fields. you were each a force to be reckoned with.

you looked around the airport a moment, although mostly empty, you still managed to turn heads. you turned towards the windows looking out over the parking deck and caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection. you adjusted the collar of your shirt and curled a face framing hair around your finger to smooth out the little bit of frizz. you hoped he liked it on you. you usually kept your hair quite long, at least to your shoulders, but the notion of having to style it and losing minutes to your hair was something you couldn’t take anymore. it looked very similar to ushijima’s hair, save for your hair being a different color and texture. the slight wave of your hair annoyed you but it was one of ushijima’s favorite things. the more you thought about it the more you realized almost everything that annoyed you about yourself was something he loved. he was always picking up on your quirks and insecurities and he found a way to romanticize them. he was just that way, seeing beauty in strange things, glamor in the mundane, and depth in simplicity. you checked your watch and turned to the gate. he was landing shortly.

you noticed a few paparazzi scuttle in and you tighten your jaw. couldn’t they leave him alone for just one day? you thought to yourself as you pulled the front hem of your blazer. you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose and straighten your posture and walk closer to the gate. ushijima would be in a much better mood if you were the first to intercept him instead of the paparazzi. as you walk toward the gate you hear the sound of a shutter click and a flash go off. you whip your head towards the young cameraman who has been stopped by an older journalist, “what are you doing? that’s not him.” the cameraman looks at you a moment longer before turning away under the pressure of your icy gaze. you check your reflection in your phone, my hair isn’t exactly like his, you ponder, is it?

at that moment you get a text from ushijima, be there soon. waiting for bags. can’t wait to see you. missed you, my dear. you smile and open your emails to squeeze in some more work. you always miss wakatoshi when he leaves and you hate that your first day back together will be spent with you working. if you don’t finish the work tonight, it will cut into your time together with the few days you have before he leaves again. the sooner you both get home, the sooner you could finish your work, the sooner you could be together with no distractions. he was sure to be frustrated but understanding.

the doors opened and there he was walking toward you. his usually serious expression faded away and a smile crept its way across his face. he walked directly up to you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “hello, my dove,” he rested his forehead against yours for a moment before taking a step back, “your hair,” he said quietly. “do you like it?” you squeezed his hand a little. “of course I do.” he pushed a tendril out of your eyes and pushed up your glasses with his knuckle, not releasing your hand to do so. you took his bag in your other hand, “the car is waiting for us outside.” you walked hand in hand without a glance to the paparazzi. you handed the bags to the driver and opened the back door for ushijima. he tilted his head back against the head rest and you slid in. he reached his arm across the seats and patted his hand against his chest to gesture you to give him a cuddle. you slid across the seats and he leaned his cheek against the top of your head as you draped your arm across his torso. he let out a long breath, “it’s good to be home.” you nuzzled his cheek and pulled him closer. you enjoy this simple moment; the rise and fall of his broad chest, the warmth of his body radiating through his thin cashmere sweater, the quiet inhale and exhale of breath against your skin, “you must be tired, darling.” he shook his head, “not really. i slept a bit on the plane. i made sure to get sleep so i could spend as much time as possible with you.” you can feel him smile against your head, “about that,” you say hesitantly as you pull away to look at him, “uh oh,” he whispers with a smirk, “i’m sorry,” you begin, “I just have a few things to finish up and then i’m all yours for the next five days,” he smiles and ruffles your hair, “you’re always mine.. but I understand.” he pulls you into his strong arms and holds you tight all the way to your apartment.

just as you arrive, your phone buzzes with a call from your business partner, “hello shimizu, i just picked up ushijima from the airport and i’m about to head upstairs.” ushijima waves his hand before picking up his bag, “he says ‘hello’,” you laugh softly while you fumble with your keys and head toward the entrance. you walk in and get on the elevator as she preps you for the video meeting. you look at ushijima and whisper, “kiyoko says hello back, she’s prepping me for the meeting.” he nods, “we’ll have to have her and ryu over for dinner this week.” you nod back. you both enter the elevator and he puts his arm around you as you listen carefully to the instructions; another pang of guilt washes over you as you catch him studying your face. he always looks at you like you’re going to disappear, as if you’re going to be a figment of his imagination, or like he’s afraid that one day he might forget. “alright, shimizu, i’m almost inside. i’ll be settled soon and we can jump on to finish prepping before the meeting.” you hang up and slip your phone in your blazer pocket. you have a few floors to enjoy the quiet with wakatoshi. he leans his head against yours and kisses your cheek. he lingers a moment and then tenderly kisses just behind your ear, “your haircut makes it easier for me to kiss your neck,” he whispers, “i like it.” you blush slightly and jump when the floor bell rings. he laughs picking up his bags and walking onto your floor, “come on,” he says with a smile, “wouldn’t want you to be late for your meeting.” you hesitate letting the guilt wash over you once more before walking up the hall and unlocking the door to your pristine corner apartment.

the apartment was very calming and soothing to be in. deep, cool colors and lots of open space with many beautiful plants. “i swear, (y/n), the orchids thrive when you take care of them.” ushijima delicately cradled the white and purple bloom in his fingers and craned down to take in it’s fragrance. the apartment always feels more like a home when he’s here. despite having floor to ceiling walls of windows, the place never fills with light until he comes home. you walk into the kitchen and turn on the kettle, “tea?” you asked, ushijima runs his hands through his hair and comes behind the counter, “i’ll make it, you go on ahead. don’t keep kiyoko waiting.” he bumps you out of the way with his hip and takes the tea bags out of your hands. you kiss his shoulder before heading towards your desk and taking off your blazer.

you sit at your desk and prepare yourself for the meeting. shimizu is already logged on and waiting. you open your documents and sign on to the video chat, “sorry to keep you waiting, shimizu.” over the next few minutes, you put the final touches on your project proposal. ushijima comes up with two teas for you both. he comes behind the desk and hunches down to be in frame of the camera, “hello kiyoko,” he says while setting down your tea. “i’m not sure if (y/n) has offered yet, but we would love to have you and ryu over for dinner this week.” she smiles and agrees that she will have to speak to ryu and hopefully you lot can work something out. “i certainly hope so,” he says before turning to you, “let me know if it needs more sugar,” he waves to the camera and then sits in the chair in front of your desk. you feel his feet touch yours as he stretches out reading an article from his press tour in a magazine. “ushijima, please don’t feel obligated to stay in the apartment, i’d hate for you to just be bored all-,” he cuts you off, “all I want to do is spend the day with you. i can handle sitting here for awhile.” you shake your head and log into your meeting. the meeting goes on for a couple hours. during your meeting ushijima refilled your tea, played footsie with you under the desk, and drew little plants and hearts on your sticky pad. he was very sweet and you felt bad that you couldn’t give him the attention he deserved.

after another hour of meetings and presentations passes, ushijima wonders into the kitchen and makes you both lunch. every so often, he looks up from his work and looks at you. he loves seeing you at work. he can only hope that you receive the same thrill he gets when he sees you at one of his matches. although, to be honest, he makes you nervous. you are so aware of his intense gaze and his deep eyes following your every move, that you become more aware of what you’re doing and that makes you uneasy. you’ve never been the best at handling the pressure of being observed and watched. the first half of your meeting wraps up and you all sign off to take a break for lunch.

ushijima has set up your lunches and waves you over. it’s a simple and nutritious lunch with vegetables, rice, and fish. he was a very good cook. everything he makes is simple but delicious. it’s an easy meal to finish quickly. you take the dishes to the kitchen and hear ushijima walk up behind you. he wraps his arms around you and plants airy kisses from your ear, down your neck, and to your shoulder. he slides his hands down your sides and grabs your hips, “please tell me you’re almost done with work,” he pleads in your ear and grazes his teeth across your skin. “ju-just a little while longer, toshi," you gulp as you hear his breath shudder and he pushes against you causing you to lean against the counter. he runs his hand from your hip, down your thigh and drags his fingers up your leg digging his fingers in, “promise?” he asks. “i-i promise.” you say feeling your heart slam against your chest. you wriggle away, “but i can’t think when you do stuff like that.” he laughs softly, “like what?” he asks coyly. you wave your hand towards where you just were in the kitchen, “like that, don’t be coy.” he saunters toward you, “i don’t know what you mean.” you back up until your back hits the wall, “yes you do. we’ll have plenty of time for that sort of thing after i’m done working,” he stands in front of you and his eyes seem to undress you, “but I missed you, dove,” you turn to walk away but he places his hand against the wall blocking your path and his face is inches from yours. he places his other hand on the opposite side of you, “and i’m taking my opportunity now to show you how much,” he nudges your nose with his and rocks his hips into yours. although you are flustered, you know what you must do. you stand up straight and look into his eyes, “ushijima,” you say flatly, “i have work to do and there is no amount of kabedon tomfoolery that can distract me.” he drops his arms and takes a step back and for a moment you think you’ve finally intimidated the great ushiwaka, until he erupts into laughter. “well, well, well, have I lost my touch then?” you roll your eyes and turn to walk away but he grabs your arm and spins you into an embrace. his eyes are very intense and serious, “do i really have no effect on you?” your breath hitches in your throat, “don’t be dramatic,” you say through a slight pout, “i just need to finish my work and then we can do this all day!” you push against his chest and stumble toward your desk. he chuckles and plops down in the chair in front of your desk, “fine,” he says, “i can behave.” you start to log back on, “for now.” he smirks and flicks open the magazine.

when ushijima gets clingy, it excites him when he can’t immediately get attention. it becomes a competition and he wants nothing more than to win. all throughout the remainder of your video meeting he was watching, sighing, stretching, and pushing his hands through his hair in the way he knows you like. you could hardly pay attention. this wasn’t the hard part. you knew he wouldn’t try too hard as long as you were on video chat, but the moment you got off and did your independent work, you knew it would be a real challenge.

you signed off for the day and began finishing up your work before you had to reply to emails. ushijima stood up and came around the back of the desk. “i don’t know how you’re able to sit all day. i’d be far too restless,” he pushed down on your shoulders and began to massage them. he spends a little extra time on the nape of your neck, now easily accessible thanks to your new haircut. you roll your shoulders back and hear a small pop, “you’ve been working so hard, maybe you can take a little break?” you sigh as he leans down and kisses the top of your head. “i’m almost done, toshi.” he sighs and squeezes your shoulders, “let me finish this and then i don’t have to do this again until sunday.” he groans in frustration and slips his hand underneath your shirt to trace circles on your chest, “how much longer?” he asks like a child waiting to open presents on their birthday. you look at the clock, “about an hour.” he huffs and sighs again, raking his fingers across your chest, “alright.” he pulls away reluctantly and stands in front of your desk. you continue to work on your computer and watch him out of the corner of your eye. at first he plops into the chair, stands up, paces back and forth, and then repeats the cycle. after about half an hour of this, he stands and looks at the clock, “you have much left?” you nod, not looking from your work, “at least another half hour.” he mumbles under his breath and paces a few more times. “i suppose i’ll have a quick shower,” he says forlornly, “alright, dear,” you say concentrating on your last few emails. suddenly, your vision goes dark and cashmere rubs across your face, ushijima has taken off his sweater and thrown it at your head. you slowly pull it off and look at him as he folds his trousers over his arm. he smiles wryly and saunters over to you, “how clumsy of me, slipped right through my fingers.” he stands very close to you and gathers the sweater up. you look up at him, “this will only take longer if you keep tempting me.” he laughs softly and curls a finger under your chin, “at least you are tempted,” he says with a sigh and walks off to the bathroom. hopefully you can finish up. he is so distracting. how you managed this long without giving in is astonishing.

the half hour of no distractions passes like a flash. you turn off your computer, take off your glasses, and rub the bridge of your nose. he has been awfully quiet since you heard the shower turn off. you get up from your desk and start to unbutton your shirt. you round the corner and look into your bedroom to find ushijima sleeping on the bed, hair wet, still wrapped in his towel. you smile, i knew he was more tired than he let on. you finish getting undressed and hear him snore a little. before heading to the shower you grab the blanket and go to cover him up. as you go to adjust his pillow, his eyes open with a glint and he traps you in his arms, rolling and pulling you on the bed. he peppers your face and neck with kisses as you both laugh together, rolling back and forth across the bed. “did you think i would really lose sight of my goal?” he smirks. “of course not, you’re ushijima wakatoshi,” you say seriously. you both erupt into hearty laughter before settling into each others arms. “so,” he begins, pulling you closer, “all mine now, (y/n)?” you smile and plant a sweet kiss on his lips, “i am always yours, wakatoshi.”

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serialreblogger · 4 years ago

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Hey! I'm thinking of reading Dracula, and knowing that's your eternal hyperfixation, I wanted to ask your thoughts, if you had any comments, suggestions, ect.

HEY WHY DIDN’T I SEE THIS SOONER I’M SO SORRY FRIEND

okay okay okay okay (...several people are typing...) SO

the first thing you should be aware of when reading Dracula is that it’s quite Victorian, so you might find it easier, especially on a first read, to get an annotated version (the Norton Critical Edition version is quite good) that puts footnotes in to explain all the outdated references to like, London penny-meat merchants and stuff. I would say it’s significantly easier to read than Lord of the Rings, but because it was written 200 years ago the difference in language means it’s not a simple read. (However, if you have absolutely any attraction to the Gothic aesthetic, Dracula is so very much worth the brainpower to slog through the rougher sentences. Like. “...the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlit sky.” The whole book is like that. A bit stilted to contemporary readers, but also breathtakingly spot-on in its Spooky Factor.)

the second thing you should be aware of is that Dracula is extremely gay, but in a Tormented Victorian Closeted way. There’s a part where Jonathan climbs out a window that just. It’s uh. The descriptions are very,, metaphorical-sounding. Again, the whole book is like that, and sometimes it’s very fun and sometimes (lookin at Lucy’s whole thing) it’s significantly more unsettling if you pay attention to the weirdly sexy descriptions of how the protagonists interact with the vampires, but I think that’s part of what I find so fascinating about Dracula--it’s unsettling and strange and the pieces don’t fit together clearly, and I still don’t know quite what to make of it, but all the same the feeling of what Stoker’s saying comes through quite clearly. There’s a reason why so many Dracula adaptations have this narrative of a protagonist falling in forbidden love with the tormented Vampyre, yknow? There’s something so unmistakeably sympathetic about the character of Dracula, even when the narrative of the story goes out of its way to establish that he has no redeeming qualities or even proper personhood, that he’s just a monster. Because there’s something about the story (even without getting into the whole “Mina and Jon murked their boss” thing) that makes a reader wonder if that’s really the whole truth. If there isn’t something tragic about Dracula. If there isn’t something in him, if not of goodness, then at least of sorrow, instead of only fear.

Anyway I digress but I think we all knew that was gonna happen; point is: Jonathan and Dracula definitely had sex, Mina and Lucy were definitely in love, Seward’s got something weird goin on with the old professor (and also he’s just very weird, full stop. sir. sir please stop experimenting on your asylum inmates. sir i know this is victorian england but please Do Not), and Quincey, well, Quincey is an American cowboy with a bowie knife, and I think that’s all we really need to know.

ok and! the third thing you should be aware of is The Racism. Imperialist Britain, yo. Bram Stoker was Irish so like, it isn’t half as bad as some other authors of his time period (Rudyard Kipling anyone), but the racism is real and I don’t wanna gloss over that. The g**sy slur is used with abandon for a huge assortment of people groups, there’s a tacit as well as overt acceptance of the idea that West is superior to East, and because the educational system where I grew up is a joke and I can only learn things if I accidentally fall down the wikipedia hole of researching the insect genus hemiptera, i genuinely still don’t know how accurate the extensive history of Romania recounted in the first third of the book actually is. Oh also casual and blatant anti-blackness is verbalized by a character at least once. I’m pretty sure the racism has a metaphorical place in the framework of Dracula’s storytelling, but I couldn’t tell you what it is because I am not going to bother putting myself in the mindset of a racist white Victorian man. This is the mindset I am trying to unlearn. So: read with caution, critical thinking, and the double knowledge that even as the narrators are meant to be unreliable, so too is the author himself.

Finally, regarding interpretation: so personally I’m running with the opinion that Dracula is, at least partly, a metaphor for Stoker’s own queerness and internal conflict re: being queer, being closeted, and watching the torture his friend Wilde went through when the wealthy father of Wilde’s lover set out to ruin his life for daring to love his son. Whether this is true or not (I think it’s true, but hey, that’s analysis, baby), you can’t understand Dracula without knowing the social context for it (as with all literature--the author isn’t dead, not if you want to know what they were saying), and the social context for it is:

- Stoker was friends with Wilde, growing only closer after Wilde was outed

- Wilde was outed, as I said, because the father of his lover was wealthy and powerful and full of the most virulent kind of hatred. This is especially interesting because of how many rich, powerful parents just straight up die in Dracula and leave the main characters with no legal issues and a ridiculous amount of money, which is the diametrical opposite of what happened to Wilde

- Stoker idolized his mentor Henry Irving. Irving was a paradigm of unconventional relationships and self-built family, in a world where divorcees and children born out of wedlock were things to be whispered about in scandalized tones, not people to love and embrace. Irving was also famous for thriving off of manipulating those close to him and pitting friends against each other. Given the painstakingly vivid description Stoker provides for his titular vampire and how closely it matches Irving’s own appearance and demeanor, Irving was widely understood even at the time of writing to be the chief inspiration for the character of Dracula

- the book is dedicated to Stoker’s close friend, Hall Caine, a fellow writer whose stories centered around love triangles and accumulation of sins which threaten to ruin everything, only to be redeemed by the simple act of human goodness

- Stoker was Irish, but not Catholic (he was a Protestant of the Church of Ireland, a division of the Anglican Church). This may come as a surprise when you read the book and see All The Catholicism, Just Everywhere. Religion is actually a key theme in Dracula--most of the main characters start out your typical Good Victorian Anglican Skeptics, and need to learn through a trial-by-fire to trust in the rituals and relics of the Catholic Church to save them from Dracula’s evilness. Which is interesting. Because not only do these characters start off as dismissive towards these “superstitions” (in the same way they dismiss the “superstitions” of the peasant class on the outskirts of Dracula’s domain), but the narrative telling us “these superstitions are actually true!” cannot be trusted, when you know the author’s own beliefs.

(Bram Stoker is not saying what his characters are saying. This is the first and most important rule to remember, if you want to figure out Dracula.)

- The second-most famous character in the novel, after Dracula himself, is Van Helsing, whose first name is Abraham. Note that “Bram” is a declension of Abraham. What does this mean? I legitimately have no idea. But it’d be a weird coincidence, right? Like what even is the thought process there? “Oh, yeah, what should I name this character that comes in, makes overtly homoerotic statements willy nilly, and encourages everyone to throw rationality out the window and stake some vampires using the Eucharist? hmmmm how about ‘Me’”

ok wait FINAL final note: you legitimately do not have to care about any of this. I love Dracula because it has gay vibes and I love trying to figure it out, like an archaeologist sifting through sentence structure to find fragments that match the patterns I already know from historical research; but that’s not why you should love Dracula. The book itself is just straight up fun to read. Like I said, Stoker absolutely nails the exact vibe of spookiness that I love, the eerieness and elegance and vague but vivid fear of a full moon crossed by clouds at midnight. The characters are intriguing, especially Quincey gosh I love Quincey Morris but they’re very,, sweet? if i can say that about people i, personally, suspect of murder? They come together and protect each other against the terrible threat that is Dracula, and you don’t get that half as often as I’d like in horror media. I don’t even know if Dracula could qualify as “horror” proper, because it’s not about the squeamish creeping discomfort that “horror” is meant to evoke, it’s not the appeal of staring at a train wreck--it’s not horrifying. It’s eerie. It’s Gothic. It has spires and vampires and found family and cowboys, and to be honest, I don’t know what could be better than that.

#dracula #linden writes an essay #linden's originals #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK FRIEND I WILL ALWAYS WANT TO INFODUMP ABOUT DRACULA #ask linden

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silverlightqueen · 4 years ago

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Filter - Part 2

‘There are so many sides to him, it’s hard to keep track.’

fratboy/jock!Jimin x cheerleader!reader - e2l, smut, a n g s t, comedy, fluff

Part of ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo!

Rating: 18 (graphic sex and mature themes)

Word Count: 16.6k+ (she’s a monster omg I’m so sorry)

Warnings - bad language, humiliation (not during sex - he just embarrasses the hell out of her in public), alcohol, drug consumption, explicit discussion of sex, locker room sex, y/n being a brat again, jimin being a dick again (but worse,,,so much worse), dom!jimin, sub!y/n, teasing, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, tit fucking, tit slapping, Jimin’s monster cock makes a return, praise, explicit dirty talk, mild degradation, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, standing sex, asphyxiation, y/n and jimin argue again (multiple times), Jimin is literally the worst human being on earth in this omg I’m sorry for making him terrible, somehow I ended up putting a comment on society and the patriarchy (?) at the end but we go with it, girl power! and if your kpop boy is in this, he’s trash (unless he’s Stray Kids Minho, the only male character in this that deserves rights)

a/n: unedited lol and this really didn’t go the way it was supposed to, but I don’t hate it so here ya go, enjoy! I think in this lockdown, I’ve really started to,,,,hate men and it shows in this fic so I’m sorry to any boys that might be reading this lmao. but anyway thank you to the loml @silverlightprincess for proofreading this, you’re the best hype girl ever, luv u xoxo (and I promise I’ll work on The Other Half for you and @brinnalaine ) lmk what you think of it, I legit thrive off praise lol x

Read Part 1 first !!!

also I got the banner off google so credit to whoever made it (it has no relevance to the story but it matches the colour scheme so we roll with it lmao)

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you so much for coming. We really appreciate the turn-out, and we’re super excited to see your try-outs! Today is going to be quite simple; we’ll start by speaking to you one-by-one to see the range of movements that you can do. Not everyone on the squad has to be able to fly and tumble, so don’t be worried if you can’t do certain flips or jumps – we try to include people of all abilities as long as the raw talent is there, and you’ll be able to learn a lot if you make the squad. Once we’re aware of what you can do, we’ll group you into smaller groups and teach you a simple routine, a slightly different one for each group. We’ll watch you perform the routine as a group after some practice time, and then we’ll assess your Cheer ability one by one, just a couple flips and jumps and things like that. If you really would rather not do them by yourself, that’s okay. Just let one of the squad know, and we’ll pair you with someone else who feels the same. We understand that some of you may not feel confident enough to perform in front of everyone else by yourselves. And it’s okay if you don’t have much confidence, because that’s something we will work on and help you to improve if you make the squad. Does anybody have any questions?’

Dozens of hopeful faces smile back at me, not one hand rising to ask a question, and I smile back. I was nervous about my first time doing this, speaking in front of everyone as newly elected Cheer Captain, but having the rest of the squad behind me makes me feel better. ‘Okay, great. If you could get into four lines in front of each of the seats at the desk, we’ll get started!’ I say excitedly. Irene, Jisoo, Chen and Jihyo (the most responsible people on the squad) are sat behind the desk to write down what people are able to do, the others on the squad dotted around to help if anyone needs it, and all the people here to try-out head over to the desk. I take a moment to take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, and I tilt my head back to feel the sun on my face. The weather’s lovely today, warm and sunny with a slight cool breeze, perfect for cheer try-outs, and the turf of the pitch is healthy and green, not yet ruined by the studs on the bottom of the players’ football boots (training doesn’t start ‘til next week).

‘y/n, relax, babe. Everything’s going well, you did a good job,’ Jennie says from behind me, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I nod. ‘Yeah, I know. It’s just… being Cheer Captain, it’s big boots to fill.’ ‘I know, but you’ve got all of us helping you out. You know we’re all here to support you. Stop stressing yourself out,’ she says, and I turn to smile at her. ‘Thank you, Jen.’ ‘Don’t thank me, because now I’ve got bad news,’ she says, looking reluctant to speak, and I side-eye her. ‘What?’ ‘We have spectators.’ ‘We always have spectators.’ ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she says, turning me to look over to the bleachers which are a few metres away. And when I spot a group of ASP boys sat there, watching us and waving when I look over, my heart nearly stops. ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding,’ I mutter, putting my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun and see them properly. And of course he’s there. Of course he is.

I haven’t seen him since a week ago today, when I ran out of his room while he was fast asleep and did the most talked about ‘Walk of Shame’ at school in the past year. All week, everyone’s been talking about me and Jimin, and somehow the rumours have spiralled out of control. My friends have reported back that they’ve heard that Hoseok and Namjoon joined us when they walked in on us, that I left before Jimin could finish, that I cried and begged him to let me cum (which my friends have denied on my part despite it being kinda true) and that I left wearing no underwear and flashed everyone on my way out. And that’s not even the worst of the rumours. I’ve tried not to comment on it when people have asked me, and it seems Jimin’s stayed quiet too – I’m sure it would’ve been hot news if he’d said anything.

I woke up the next morning aching, my entire body sore and weak (I really have no idea how I managed to leave the frat house on my feet – it must have been the adrenaline). My neck, jaw and chest were covered in purpling marks, some of them in the shape of his rings, and my waist and ass were covered in dark painful bruises from his tight grip and the endless spanking (the marks and bruises are all still there, by the way, fading but there – I had to cake the makeup on top of them this morning to cover them in my skimpy cheer kit). It hurt to sit down for too long, but it hurt to walk too, so I spent all of Sunday lying down, Jennie nursing me back to health (as she calls it – in reality, she just microwaved some soup for me, and we binge-watched Netflix in bed together). My body isn’t used to intense sex like that because not many university boys are as good at sex as Jimin is. I hate to admit it, but I’ve been zoning out all week (during lectures and seminars, when I was with my friends, at the gym, whilst studying or watching TV, when I was trying to fall in sleep, whilst showering, etc.) thinking back to mind. And I hate it – I hate him. I used to think of him with irritation and borderline rage, but now… the thought of him turns me on. It’s infuriating. I haven’t even gone over to get my stuff – not even my favourite bra (it was sexy and comfy, lacy with no underwire) – for fear of falling back under his stupid spell and getting into his bed again.

When my eyes meet his, it’s like he knows that I’m wet, a small smirk playing at his glossy lips as he runs a vascular hand through his jet-black locks, silver rings glinting in the sunlight. He looks fucking gorgeous, in a pair of loose black slacks and a loose orange shirt, a simple but flattering outfit, with his silver earrings, rings and bracelets. And the irritation inside me pushes down the arousal, and I turn away angrily, hearing their laughter over my shoulder as my eyes meet Jennie’s. ‘I can go speak to them if you want?’ she offers weakly, and I sigh. ‘There’s nothing we can say; they’re allowed to be here. We’re just gonna have to ignore them,’ I say, and she nods, throwing an arm over my shoulders and leading me towards the table.

I oversee the proceedings, making sure everything’s going well, my mind still elsewhere, but after a few minutes, the noise they’re making is unbearable. They’re loud – laughter and shouting echoing around the pitch – and it’s starting to distract the squad, and the people here to try-out. ‘Should I go tell them to shut up?’ Jennie asks, and I nod, reluctant to go over myself. She walks over, hands on her hips, and I know she’s gonna give them hell. But then I start to doubt that when I see them laughing and joking with her, before she comes back over, my expectant gaze being met by her sheepish one. ‘Well?’ I ask, and she winces. ‘They said they don’t take orders from me – only from… the Cheer Captain,’ she says slowly, and I let out a noise of irritation. Jimin being an annoying, difficult, stupid dickhead, I can understand. The others? I thought they were my friends. But obviously they find this whole situation more amusing than anything. It’s not funny for me – I slept with the guy I’m supposed to hate the most! The guy that I do hate the most.

‘I really don’t want to go over there,’ I admit, and Jennie’s eyes soften with sympathy. ‘You don’t have to, y/n, don’t feel pressured. We can cope with their noise – it’s fine, babe,’ she says reassuringly, but I feel guilty. I remember how nervous I was at try-outs, and having a group of rowdy frat boys laughing and shouting every few seconds definitely wouldn’t have helped. It’s up to me as Captain to create a comfortable environment, and with them around, this isn’t comfortable at all. I sigh, shaking my head, before I say, ‘I’ll go.’ ‘Are you sure?’ she asks, and I nod, dread building up inside me. ‘Want me to come with?’ ‘No, you just stay and keep an eye on things.’

I begin walking over, eyes fixed on the ground, and I can literally feel their eyes on me, their anticipation practically palpable. Everyone sat around the pitch is whispering, watching, desperate to see Jimin and I interact after all the rumours of the last week, and I can feel it all, making my nerves build up with every step. When I’m a few feet away from the bleachers, I look up, my eyes instantly meeting his, and I stop, staring at them for a moment. He’s endlessly amused, the smirk on his lips unbearably irritating. ‘Hey, y/n,’ he says easily, a ripple of laughter running around the group, and I don’t reply, matching his light gaze with a hard stare of my own. ‘This isn’t funny, guys, and I would’ve thought you’d know better. How do you think they’re gonna feel when they’re doing their routines and you morons are laughing? None of you can do what they’re doing, not in a million years, so don’t you dare come and sit here to rub my personal life in my face without even thinking of how rude and disruptive you’re being. You should be ashamed,’ I say neutrally, not letting any emotion into my voice, because if I do, I’ll lose my temper completely like I did last week and end up screaming at them. The other boys have the courtesy to look embarrassed of themselves, but Jimin just continues to smirk at me, running his thumb over his plump lips. My insides churn with anger at him being such a dick, but I don’t say a thing, waiting for one of them to reply. ‘Sorry, y/n. We didn’t think,’ Jin says, apologetic, and the others mutter apologies too, all except Jimin. ‘Don’t apologise. Just shut up,’ I reply before turning on my heel, walking away and ignoring the indiscernible whispers and stifled laughter.

‘Whatever you said, it definitely worked,’ Jennie says, and I nod curtly, still pissed off. ‘You okay?’ she asks, and my shoulders slump. ‘No. I’m supposed to be the Captain, I’m supposed to be nice and smiley and kind, and now I’m just angry, because of them, because of him,’ I sigh tiredly, and Jen looks at me sadly before putting an arm around my shoulders. ‘Don’t let them get you worked up, babe – today’s important, okay? Just focus on the try-outs,’ Jennie says, and I nod, trying my best to let my annoyance go, but it’s easier said than done. I wait impatiently for the first part of today to be done, desperate to have something to do so I can distract myself. And as soon as the last person has finished speaking to Jisoo, I call for everyone’s attention, telling them to start warming up. I sit down with Irene, Jisoo, Jihyo and Chen, and we quickly put people in similar-ability groups, based on the notes that the four of them have made whilst speaking to them; potential flyers, bases and spotters, and tumblers. The routines aren’t too different – just to test their dancing ability, and to see if they have the kind of body control needed for their different positions.

Once we’ve grouped them, Irene reads out the groups, the flyers with Lisa and Seulgi, bases and spotters with Kai, and tumblers with Momo, the rest of the squad supporting. I take a seat at the desk, making notes on people who catch my eye (they’re all wearing little name stickers, so I send Jennie over to find out their names). Jiwon, the pretty sophomore from last week, is really good – her dancing is great, and she’s light on her feet, the perfect flyer. I’m already certain she’ll make the team, because she’s super smiley and energetic too (I wave at her when I catch her eye, and she waves back excitedly, huge smile on her face). Watching them all learning the dances, making notes, evaluating them, it gets me in the zone. Focusing on this, I’m in my Captain mindset, having completely forgotten about the stupid disruption earlier. There’s definitely some potential here, and I have no doubt we’ll do really well at Nationals this year – I’ll be pissed if we don’t come first (and I’ll also be the first Captain in ten years that doesn’t lead us to victory, which is a pretty big deal).

Once they’ve learnt their dances, we split each group in half so there are less people to focus on, and they perform the dances to us. They’re all quite good – there’s a couple people who, bless them, will definitely not make the team, and I feel bad, but I have to be ruthless. It’s my job to make sure I give us the best chance at winning. We give them a little break after they’ve performed, and we all sit together to compare notes. We’ve pretty much all put the same people down, but we can’t make any final decisions until we watch them do their Cheer moves. ‘Okay, is everybody ready?’ I ask after getting their attention. ‘We’re going to have a look at your moves now. So they’re pretty basic, nothing too strenuous. Can someone show them what they’ve got to do?’ I say, turning to face the squad, and before anyone can speak, Kai says, ‘y/n, you should. You’re the captain after all.’ I return his mischievous grin with a hard stare, but the others all give various agreements, pushing me to show them. ‘I haven’t even warmed up,’ I mutter, everyone laughing.

‘Okay, we’ll start with a basic standing split. So, you just lift your leg, whichever your better leg is, and bring it right up like this, with your arm in front of it, and hold it there for a few seconds,’ I say, my left leg up against my body, my right arm holding my foot above my head. It’s a little painful because I haven’t warmed up, but I’ve done this move enough times that it’s pretty easy. I hear applause a little distance away, knowing it’s those stupid boys, and then everyone trying out starts clapping too, making me drop my leg and laugh embarrassedly. ‘Okay, thanks, guys, you can stop now,’ I say lightly, and everyone starts laughing. I show them all of the other moves – a full split, a pike jump, a toe touch jump, a hurdler jump, a front flip, a back flip and an aerial, getting applause for each movement, triggered by our idiot spectators. ‘So we’ll call you up one-by-one, unless you’ve asked us to go with someone else, and we’d like you to a show us a clasp, a high V, a T motion, and then go into the moves that you’re confident with. Show us your personality – we want bright and bubbly people on the squad, so don’t be afraid to chant or whatever, if you want to,’ I say as I take my seat behind the desk, Irene, Chen, Jihyo, Jisoo and Jennie sat with me, the rest of the squad sat around on the grass, enjoying the warmth and just watching the proceedings.

After a couple of people, it starts to get repetitive, but I remain focused, knowing I need to pay attention to differentiate between the good and the great. Jiwon is fantastic – she’s making the team without a doubt. Once they’re all done (nearly two hours later), I call them all over to sit beside the desk. ‘Thank you all so much for coming, and well done. What you did takes a lot of courage and you should all be so proud of yourselves, whether you make the squad or not. We’ve got your details from earlier, so we’ll be in contact within the next couple days to let you know if you made it. Thank you, and you are free to go,’ I smile, all of them letting out expressions of gratitude as they get up, heading to the bleachers to get their stuff and go. ‘Jiwon!’ I call, the girl turning to look. ‘Can I have a word?’ I say, the girl telling her friends to wait for her as she walks towards me. I head over to her, and we meet in the middle of the pitch, with no-one around. I don’t want anyone to hear and accuse me of favouritism.

‘Hey, y/n.’ ‘Hi, Jiwon. You did a really good job, definitely shone through. You’re fantastic,’ I say, and she smiles shyly. ‘Thank you. I have been cheering for a long time, though, so I did have an advantage,’ she says humbly, and I wave it off. ‘Don’t give me excuses – just accept the compliment. Anyway, I probably shouldn’t say this, but you caught a lot of our eyes, Jiwon. I’m pretty certain you’ll make the squad. First practice is next Saturday, 2 ‘til 4, and we’re just gonna do an introductory session, get to know one another and have a proper look at what everyone can do. Make sure you’re on time, and ready to try out some stunts. And work on your pike jump over the week – your fingers were literally millimetres away from your toes. A little practice, and you’ll have it perfect. And you were the teeniest bit wobbly in your standing split, so just work on your balance a little,’ I say, and she nods enthusiastically, taking in every word. Whilst I’m speaking, I notice Jimin approaching us, and Jiwon does too, looking flustered when she spots him. But she sees the way I ignore him completely, and does the same, just listening to me.

‘Thank you, y/n, I really appreciate it. Also, can I ask for your advice about something?’ she asks, and I nod, surprised she wants my advice. Jimin is now stood right beside us, but neither of us pay attention to his presence, keeping our eyes on each other. ‘What do you do to warm up for your splits? I warm up, but it’s always painful when I do them, and you did them really well, so I thought I’d ask.’ ‘I do a lot of yoga, actually, which really helps. We always get here around twenty minutes before practice, and the others do laps and things like that to warm up, but I do a bit of yoga, which helps loosen my body a lot. And then, just before I start a routine, I bend in half, and hold my head against my shins for like half a minute, to loosen my legs. It’s a little painful, but it gets your legs ready for the stretch that you feel when you’re in the splits,’ I say, and she listens eagerly to every word. His presence is starting to bother me, especially the way he’s completely silent, a stupid smirk on his face. ‘Thank you, y/n. I’m gonna head off now, but thanks for the advice. Are you going to KPN’s party tonight?’ she asks, and I sigh, thinking back to the text invite that Jackson from Kappa Phi Nu sent out a couple days ago. ‘I’m not sure. I was gonna just head to the gym for a late-night workout but Jennie’s trying to convince me to go,’ I explain, and she nods. ‘Well, I hope you do come. It’d be nice to see you there,’ she says, and I smile at her, touched. And then I lose my patience, turning to him with annoyance, and he grins, draping his arms around our waists.

‘My two favourite girls,’ he says with a grin, making me want to slap him, and we both push his arms off us in disgust, moving away from him slightly. ‘Look at you two. Best friends now, huh? If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other, so I think a ‘thank you’ is in order,’ he says smugly, my eyes widening at him as Jiwon shoots him a dirty look. God, I love this girl. ‘Fuck you, Park,’ I say without thinking, and his eyes sparkle, mischief in his grin as he replies, ‘I already did, babe, keep up.’ And then he reaches into his back pocket, pulling his hand back out with something black and lacy hanging off his finger. My favourite bra. ‘Remember? You left this?’ ‘Park!’ I hiss, grabbing it from his hand and panicking for a moment, not sure where to put it (my cheer kit doesn’t have pockets) before I tuck it into his front pocket hastily. It’s too late, though, because everyone in the area who was watching saw it, laughter rippling around us. ‘I would’ve brought your pants too, but they were ripped, so I figured there was no point,’ he says, and I give him an angry stare, jaw hurting from how hard I’m clenching it. He just grins back, Jiwon looking between us for a few seconds before she says, ‘my friends are waiting for me, y/n, so I’m gonna go. I hope to see you later.’ ‘Okay, Jiwon. See you. Remember to work on your pike jump, and your standing splits. If you get here early, we can do some yoga together,’ I say, trying to push down the humiliation as the girl nods with a smile before she goes to join her friends who are watching us. Everyone’s watching us.

‘Your standing splits were good,’ he says, and I sigh, rolling my eyes. ‘I’m literally giving you a compliment!’ ‘I don’t care, you fucking dick.’ ‘Wow, never mind. I was gonna say that I could put your flexibility to good use, but forget it,’ he says, failing to hold back his grin, and I narrow my eyes at him. ‘Why the fuck did you come, Park? I thought I made it clear last week that I’m not interested in you,’ I say harshly, hurt momentarily appearing on his face before he masks it with a smirk, making me feel a little guilty. ‘We always come to watch try-outs. Entertainment for a couple hours. And it doesn’t hurt seeing you in this kit either,’ he says, taking the hem of my skirt into his hand, fingers momentarily skimming against my thigh, and I slap his hand away, feeling exposed in my kit all of a sudden. It’s quite revealing – a short blue skirt with a white border and a long-sleeved blue cropped top with shoulder cut-outs, with our school name written across the chest in white. It’s super cute though, even more so with the white pumps and frilly white ankle socks, and the blue and white bows on our ponytails. The boys wear the same colour scheme, blue and white t-shirts and shorts.

‘I swear to God, Park, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit today,’ I say tiredly, and he pouts, eyes still sparkling with amusement. ‘You were last week.’ ‘Things change. You can go now,’ I say pointedly, and he grins, taking a step closer to me, so close I can see every flaw on his face that he doesn’t have, and places a gentle hand on my waist. ‘I’ll go, but one last thing. I’ve gotta go drop my shit off in the changing rooms – Coach said we all have to, ready for next week – and I’ll wait in there for… hmm, shall I be nice? Okay, ten minutes. If I know you as well as I think I do, you’ve been thinking about me, and what happened last Saturday, all week long. I have. And I want a round two. I’ll wait for ten minutes,’ he says, voice low and face serious, before his whole demeanour changes, smile stretching his lips, hand falling from my waist as he takes a step back. My lips are parted and face warm, eyes locked with his, and my obviously affected appearance makes him let out a chuckle. ‘Ten minutes, angel. If not, I’ll see you tonight, at KPN, and you can get your bra from me there instead,’ he says with a smile, before turning and walking away, leaving me slightly stunned.

‘Close your mouth, babe, you’ll catch flies,’ Jennie says drily, and I turn to look at her, trying to compose myself. ‘He just asked me for a round two in the changing rooms,’ I whisper, and she gasps loudly, catching the attention of everyone around us. ‘Shut up!’ I hiss, and she claps a hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry, sorry. I’m just… shook. Are you gonna go?’ she asks, and I hesitate to answer, his dark eyes in my mind, my underwear embarrassingly damp. ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Bitch, stop kidding yourself – you want to, so just go,’ she says, but before I can reply, Kai joins us. ‘Um, y/n, there are a couple people waiting to ask you some questions,’ he says, and I sigh, looking over his shoulder to see some people hovering. I quickly rush over to them, listening to their questions (which are so unnecessary, might I add? Why do you need to know where to get the uniform from, or the date of Nationals this year, if you’re not even on the squad yet?) and answer them as quickly as I can, trying to be polite, but impatient, worried that my ten minutes will run out.

As soon as the last person’s done, Jennie grabs my arm and whispers, ‘it’s been nine minutes. I’ll pack stuff up, you just go.’ ‘Thank you, you’re the best,’ I whisper back. I rush off, speed walking across the pitch before someone can stop me, in the direction of the changing rooms. When I reach the door, I push it open slowly, listening out for any voices. And then I wonder – is this a prank? Is this payback for me leaving him last week? Are they all gonna be waiting there to jump out and laugh at me? But, no. He wouldn’t. Surely, he wouldn’t stoop that low? ‘Jimin?’ I whisper, hearing nothing back, and I venture in. ‘Jimin?’ I say a little louder, walking down the main aisle slowly, looking between the rows of lockers on either side of me. I call his name again, and when I reach the end of the lockers, stepping out into the open changing area, a wooden bench running around the walls, I feel a pair of hands push me up against the last locker, the metal clang echoing loudly around the room as I try to get my bearings, blinking to see Jimin stood in front of me, his body pressed up against mine.

‘You took eleven minutes, you fucking tease,’ he whispers, hand appearing at my throat and tightening instantly, my mind momentarily thinking back to last week, when he left bruises the shape of his rings around my neck. ‘Didn’t mean to. Got held up,’ I breathe out, and he pushes my head back at an unnatural angle, his dark eyes, blown wide with desire, locking with my own. ‘How can I believe you, after you left last week?’ he spits out, and I feel my stomach turn; I didn’t think he’d be that bothered, but it’s obvious he’s angry that I left him. ‘Never said I’d stay,’ I reply, with a small grin, and he growls angrily, pushing up against me even harder. ‘You’re the first girl that’s ever left without me telling her to. Trying to play me at my own game?’ he asks, amusement creeping into his voice, but he’s mainly angry, veins corded tight and body tense, fist curled and jaw clenched. ‘No. I just don’t like you,’ I reply, voice strained because of his hand tight at my neck, head beginning to go dizzy, and he lets out a humourless laugh.

‘Sure. Of course you don’t. Let’s see how much you don’t like me,’ he says, free hand pushing one of my legs out wider, so he has space to put his hand up my skirt. His finger slides beneath my tight safety shorts, and he lets out a laugh when he feels how wet my underwear is, making me look away from him in embarrassment. ‘Look at me,’ he demands, my eyes flitting back to his as he pushes my pants out of the way, swiping a finger along my dripping wet slit. I let out a shaky breath, and he chuckles. ‘I think you’re lying to me, angel. I think you actually do like me. A lot,’ he grins as he pulls his hand from my skirt, lifting his finger, glistening with my arousal, to my mouth. I keep my lips pressed shut, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Don’t make me punish you. This isn’t a repeat of last week – there’s other things I want to do to you,’ he says lowly, a thrill running through me, but I’m still as stubborn as last week. ‘I’m not here for a round two. I’m here for my bra,’ I exhale, and he rolls his eyes with a little laugh, his hand tightening at my neck. ‘You can earn it.’ ‘What is it… with you stealing my… things?’ ‘I didn’t steal anything. You left your bra when you did your little walk of shame. So it’s mine now – it’s been in my room for a week, with your tight jeans and your pretty top and those cute heels, and that little bag, with your keys and lip-gloss and pads in it. And because it’s all mine, I want you to earn it back,’ he replies before leaning down and pressing his lips to my ear, his beautiful scent flooding my senses.

‘Let me fuck your tits,’ he whispers, making my stomach clench with the thought of it, before he pulls back from me, searching my face for any kind of reaction. ‘And they say romance is dead,’ I whisper dryly, and he laughs, a startled laugh, as though he wasn’t expecting a joke from me. It makes my heart flutter a little, which then makes me want to slap myself. ‘Is that a yes?’ he asks with a mischievous grin. ‘No. It isn’t,’ I reply, and he sighs before letting go of me. ‘Fine. Let’s just talk then, if you don’t wanna fuck,’ he says neutrally, sitting down on the bench opposite me, and I’m disarmed at his sudden 180. ‘Sit down, y/n,’ he says, motioning to the bench and, for once, I listen to him, sitting down. He leans back against the wall and runs a hand through his hair, legs spread, thick thighs on display. Last week, the lighting from his bedroom lamp was low and sultry, but the lighting in here is bright and cold, and he still looks fucking gorgeous.

‘Who did you tell?’ he asks, and I know he’s asking what I’ve been wondering all week – who actually knows the full story. ‘Who did you tell?’ I ask, purposely being difficult, and he rolls his eyes, grin pulling at his lips. ‘Hobi and Tae are the only ones that know the full story. Jin, Yoongi, Joon and Kook know vaguely. Now tell me who you told,’ he says, and I’m surprised he’s kept it only to his closest friends – I thought for sure the whole frat would know. ‘y/n. Who did you tell?’ Nayeon, Lisa, Mina, Irene, Dahyun, Yeri, Jeongyeon, Seulgi, Sana, Jisoo, Chaeyoung, Joy, Momo, Wendy, Jihyo, Tzuyu and- ‘Jennie.’ ‘That’s it? Just Jennie?’ ‘And.. a couple of the other girls.’ He raises an eyebrow, obviously not believing me. ‘Did you tell them everything?’ ‘Only Jennie knows about me leaving when you… wanted me not to,’ I say, and he nods, looking a little embarrassed, and I feel so guilty, but I had to. ‘Why did you do it?’ he asks quietly, and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. ‘Because… we’re supposed to hate each other, and we had sex, Jimin. I couldn’t share a bed with you after that, I just… couldn’t.’ ‘Would it really be so bad if we didn’t hate each other?’ he asks, and I sigh, not wanting him to ask these questions, not wanting him to entertain this possibility. Because Jimin’s the type of boy to want what he can’t have, and as soon as I let him have me, more than just physically, he won’t want me anymore.

I get up and walk over to him, his eyes on me, and when I’m stood right in front of him, in between his legs, I drop to my knees. ‘y/n,’ he says slowly, as though he wants me to wait, but I can’t talk about this right now. ‘Shut up,’ I say before pulling my top over my head and throwing it behind me, leaving me in my bra. He’s quickly distracted, eyes lost in my chest, and I can see the bulge in his jeans growing already. I lift a hand to his crotch, palming him over his jeans, and his head falls back, a little moan falling from his lips. ‘Please, y/n, don’t tease,’ he breathes out, and I clench involuntarily at getting him like this. ‘Take your jeans off,’ I whisper, and he quickly unbuttons and unzips them, holding himself up from the bench and pushing them down with his underwear, just enough to free his cock. He’s only half-hard, but he’s already big, girthy and long, making me lick my lips at the sight of him. He tugs on his length a couple times to get himself fully hard, letting out little grunts, and I feel more arousal dampen my underwear. After a few seconds, I push his hands away, taking his length into my hands, and he shuffles forwards on the bench, giving me proper access to his cock.

I collect my saliva up on my tongue and spit at his dick, the saliva landing on his tip and slowly dripping down his length. I use my hand to spread it out before I take his swollen head into my mouth, kitten licking the tip before swirling my tongue around him. He pulls my bow out of my hair and grabs my ponytail, but restrains himself from trying to control my movements, letting me take my time with him. I don’t wait long before I’m taking him as far into my mouth as possible, before slowly bobbing my head up and down his length. ‘God, angel, your mouth is so fucking good. So good for me, such a dirty girl,’ he praises, head back against the wall but eyes on me, and when I look up at him through my lashes, he grins down at me. I hollow out my cheeks, trying to get my lips around the base of his cock, but my jaw is already hurting from my mouth being around his thick length. ‘Get me all the way in, baby, I know you can,’ he prompts, and I try my hardest, gagging around him, and it’s so fucking messy, saliva around my mouth and dripping down my chin. He decided to help, pushing my head even further down, and when my nose hits his skin, his abdomen contracts, a heavenly moan of my name falling from his lips.

Once I deem his cock sufficiently wet, I remove him from my mouth and reach behind me to unclasp my sports bra, pulling it off, feeling satisfied when his eyes are locked on my breasts. ‘Stand up,’ I say, and he does so, quickly, moving aside to let me sit on the bench. I perch on the edge, knees together, and Jimin stands in front of me, one leg on either side of mine. ‘Push your tits together for me, angel,’ he says, and I do so, the boy moving even closer to me. I feel his head against the bottom of my breasts, wet and hard, before slowly pushing up, breath catching in his throat as he goes as far as he can, his pink tip emerging through my cleavage. ‘Fuck, that feels good. Hold them tighter, babe,’ he says, and it starts to hurt when I do so, but the pleasure on his face as he thrusts, fucking my tits aggressively, more than makes up for it. I spit down into the valley of my breasts, for better lubrication, and he lets out a moan, thrusting even harder. And then he lifts a hand, landing a slap on one of my breasts. ‘Um, ow,’ I say, and he lets out a little chuckle, his thrusting not faltering for a moment. ‘So soft. Best tits I’ve ever seen,’ he says, landing a slap on the other, and I stop myself from slapping his balls because I don’t want to kill his vibe. And he’d probably enjoy it, the kinky bastard. I look down to see precum leaking from his tip, and I lean down, meeting one of his thrusts with my tongue, licking his precum, and he lets out a moan. ‘God, yes, baby. So good for me,’ he grunts, before his thrusts start to slow, until he eventually moves away from me.

‘Love your tits, angel, but I wanna cum in you instead,’ he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up from the bench. ‘Put your clothes back on,’ he says, my eyes widening in confusion. ‘What? Why?’ ‘Because I’ve always wanted to fuck you while you’re wearing your cheer kit. Hurry up and put it on before I decide to leave,’ he says pointedly, and I feel guilt surge through me as I grab my bra from the floor, pulling it back on, and turning around for him to clasp it for me. He does so, taking ages (it seems he’s better at taking bras off than putting them on), and then I pull my top back over my head. As soon as I’m redressed, he pushes me up against the nearest locker, winding me, before his hand strays down to beneath my skirt. ‘You gonna take these booty shorts off before I rip them off you?’ he says, plump lips against my neck, and I push him off, quickly pulling off my safety shorts (these are the only pair I have at the moment – I ordered a pair online and they’re due in a couple weeks – so I really don’t need him ripping them). ‘They’re safety shorts, not booty shorts,’ I mutter, as I kick them off, and he doesn’t waste any time in pushing me up against the lockers again. He presses his lips to mine in a tame kiss (he doesn’t even use his tongue), mouths moving together for a few seconds before he pulls away, sinking to his knees.

‘You’ve been on your knees for me twice now, baby, so I think it’s time I repaid the favour. And I believe I promised to eat your pussy with my… pretty lips,’ he says, quoting my words from last week, and my stomach turns as he grabs the front of my underwear. He violently pulls at them, tearing them away from my body, and I refrain from kneeing him in the face for ruining a second pair of pants. He pushes my legs apart before pulling one over his shoulder, his face inches from where I need him. ‘Jimin… please,’ I whine, and he chuckles, expelling warm air across my dripping wet core, making me shudder. ‘See, baby, you’re being so good for me today, saying my name, and begging like a good girl. And good girls don’t get punished, don’t get spanked until their ass is raw. Good girls get rewarded,’ he says before his head disappears beneath my skirt and I feel him lick a slow bold stripe across my slit, my hips jerking at the feeling, pushing my core closer to his face. He swirls his tongue around my clit, and I let out a whimper of his name, making him chuckle as he grabs onto my waist to hold me in place. ‘So fucking sweet, angel. Best pussy I’ve ever tasted. Could eat you all day.’ He laps at me like there’s no tomorrow, my hands gripping onto his strong shoulders and head thrown back against the lockers. He brings his fingers to my clit, rubbing slow circles, at the stimulation at my bundle of nerves paired with his long, quick licks have me moaning out his name, my stomach already tightening with the threat of an orgasm.

And then he pushes a finger between my folds, pumping in and out of me as I clench around him. ‘Gotta stretch you out for my fat cock, baby, take it like a good girl. Stop clenching, babe,’ he murmurs soothingly against my inner thigh, his thick finger quickly being joined by another. ‘Ah, Jimin, feels so fucking good,’ I moan out, and he hums in response before attaching his lips to my clit, sucking at the bundle of nerves before adding another finger, three thick digits stretching me out. ‘Such a good little slut for me, angel. You take my fingers so fucking well,’ he says, lips still against my clit, and I feel my high nearing quickly, moans and whimpers escaping from my lips every few seconds. He’s so good with his mouth, his plump lips wrapping around my clit and sucking harshly, before he licks along my folds, fingers still pumping into me, curling against my spongy spot every few seconds, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. And he knows it, the pace of his fingers ever increasing, his lips and tongue attacking my core with passion.

And then we hear the door of the changing room open, followed by a group of loud male voices, laughing and joking. Before I can even register it, Jimin’s on his feet, scooping me into his arms and practically sprinting into the shower area, rushing into one of the cubicles. He puts me down carefully, a hand over my mouth, and I feel my orgasm fading away because of the fear of being caught by his teammates. And in my mind, the logical thing to do is to be silent and wait for them to leave, right? But Jimin isn’t logical, and he pushes me up against the brick wall, pumping his cock in his free hand. He removes his hand from my mouth, tapping my left leg before tapping his shoulder, and I get the message, putting my leg up over his shoulder, despite thinking that this is a terrible idea. And then he puts his hand back over my mouth before slowly sliding into me, his huge cock stretching me out painfully, filling me up completely, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to moan out his name, my head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. ‘What was that?’ I hear one of the boys say, the others asking what he’s talking about, and I feel panic fill me. But along with the panic is arousal at the idea of being caught, my pussy gushing around him, and he smirks, slowly thrusting into me, the curve of his dick allowing him to hit my g-spot (I’m certain Megan wrote Captain Hook about him).

I hear footsteps nearing us, before they stop abruptly. ‘Oh, my God,’ I hear a voice say quietly, before more footsteps can be heard. ‘What?’ ‘Look.’ ‘Whoa. Is that…?’ ‘Yes. One of the cheerleader’s bows.’ Panic strikes through me, and Jimin just grins, continuing to fuck me slowly, making me feel every inch of him. ‘And those are the shorts they wear, right?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘And are those… pants?’ ‘Yep. And they look ripped.’ ‘Is someone fucking in here?’ ‘No, we’d be able to hear them. They’re probably gone.’ ‘You think?’ ‘Yes. And I don’t wanna double check. Let’s just go.’ I feel my fear ebbing away as the footsteps get quieter before the door opens and closes. We’re both silent for a few moments, just to make sure they’re gone, before Jimin pulls all the way out of me, slamming back in. I let out a loud moan against his hand, which he moves to rest at the base of my throat, cock hammering into me ruthlessly. ‘Look how wet you are for me, baby. My little bitch likes the idea of getting caught with a fat cock inside her, huh? Does the idea of being walked in on turn you on, babe?’ he asks, and all I can do is nod, moans falling from my lips every few seconds as he slams into me, the drag of his cock against my walls making me weak.

‘Taking me so well, angel, letting me fill you up and stretch you out so good, baby,’ he praises, voice strained with effort, as he pounds into me, my mind completely blank of anything, of everything but him. I feel my orgasm nearing, my walls clenching around him, but that doesn’t stop him plunging into me, hard, his balls slapping up against my ass, one hand gripping onto his shoulder whilst the other is splayed against the cold wall. My leg is beginning to hurt being up against his shoulder, especially because all my body weight is resting on the toes of my other foot (I can’t get my whole foot on the floor), but he seems to be enjoying it, able to go deep into me at this angle, his tip hitting my cervix. ‘Look how flexible you are, baby, stretching for me like a good little whore. Gonna put your flexibility to good use all the time, babe – I’ll help keep you in shape for Cheer,’ he promises, fingers straying to my clit as he speaks. And then I feel him twitching inside me. ‘Are you close?’ I ask, and he nods, eyes fluttering shut, and I reach down to cup his balls, trying to push him over the edge. ‘Ah, fuck, feels good, y/n, your pussy’s so fucking good. Gonna cum, gonna fill you up like a good little slut,’ he breathes out, and I tighten around him, his head falling back as he lets out a loud moan of my name, hot cum shooting out of his cock, painting my walls. He continues thrusting, hips stuttering as he works himself through his orgasm, and I stay clenched around him to prolong his high.

Once he’s done, he pulls out, and puts me down carefully, taking a moment to get his breath back before tucking his softening cock into his underwear, zipping himself back up. He looks up at me with a grin, his hair messy, face still glistening with my arousal, eyes dark. ‘Good talk,’ he grins before turning and walking away. ‘Um, Jimin?’ I call after him, stepping out of the cubicle with shaky legs. ‘Yes, y/n?’ he asks, turning to look at me, eyes sparkling with mirth. ‘I didn’t…’ I trail off, unsure of what to say. ‘What? You didn’t cum?’ he asks, and I nod, my stomach twisting with hurt when he smirks and says, ‘I know, angel. Only good girls get to cum. And good girls don’t leave in the middle of the night after being asked to stay.’ My mouth drops open at the thought that he’s not going to make me cum, and he grins even wider, before taking a little pity on me. ‘I’ll tell you what, baby. Come to KPN tonight and come find me, and I’ll make you cum as many times as you want,’ he says, but I’m still furious. ‘You’re not being serious?’ ‘Deadly.’ ‘Jimin, please,’ I say, and he just grins back at me. ‘You might wanna clean yourself up. Got my cum dripping down your leg,’ he says, and I look down to see his thick white release slowly trailing down my skin. I curse under my breath, and when I look back up, Jimin’s already out of sight, whistling a merry tune, before I hear the changing room door open and close behind him. And when I slowly walk towards the lockers, I realise my bow, safety shorts and ripped pants are gone too. And he still hasn’t given me back my favourite bra.

I head over to the sinks to clean myself up, cursing at him the entire time. ‘Fucking bastard, and his stupidly big fat fucking cock, stealing all my stuff and leaving me high and dry with his fucking cum dripping down my fucking leg. Didn’t even give me any fucking aftercare, fucking dick,’ I rant angrily as I take my hair out of its messy ponytail, running my fingers through it. Luckily, I haven’t sweated off any of my makeup, the fading marks from last week fully covered, but it’s still clear I’ve just been fucked. And the fact that I don’t have anything on under my skirt isn’t helpful at all – thank God it isn’t windy today because otherwise, I’ll be flashing everyone. Once I’ve deemed myself okay to leave, I push open the changing room doors, looking side to side to make sure no one’s around before I slip out of the door, quickly making my way to mine and Jennie’s accommodation, trying to ignore how desperate I am for a release right now. And not just any release – one on Jimin’s cock. But that’ll have to wait for later – I’ve got a party to get ready for.

‘Jennie! y/n!’ Yeri exclaims when we walk into the kitchen through the back door, throwing her arms around us in a hug. ‘Hey, Yeri,’ we reply, hugging her back, and when she moves away, her eyes widen. ‘Jen, you look good, but y/n! You look good, girl!’ she exclaims. ‘Oh, thanks, Yeri,’ Jennie says sarcastically, but she doesn’t mean it – Jennie always opts for comfort over fashion at frat parties, usually wearing mom jeans, or a loose t-shirt dress (which she rocks by the way – no one pulls off the casual aesthetic like Jennie). And I never dress up too much, sticking to a simple outfit and dressing it up with heels and jewellery. But today, I decided to go all out, dressing to impress in a tight little black dress, hem around my upper thighs, ruched with a bardot neck (I had to forgo a bra, and used tit tape instead to make sure they don’t sag). I’m in a pair of black sparkly heels, much higher than last week’s, with a silver choker, silver hoops and a thin silver bracelet. Jennie has on a shoulder bag, big enough to fit my things in it, so I didn’t bother with a bag, my phone in my hand and my lipgloss, oil blotting sheets and keys in Jennie’s bag. ‘Thanks, Yeri. But look at you! This top is so cute!’

We greet all our friends, Jeongyeon pushing cups into mine and Jennie’s hands (I’m not sure what it is but it tastes nice), before I take a seat between Tzuyu and Lisa at the kitchen island, instantly getting into a conversation about Cheer. KPN parties are always really laidback – people wear whatever they want, drink whatever they want, and I never feel uncomfortable here, or pressured to act a certain way. I can just be myself, and enjoy the night with my friends. ASP’s the opposite in the sense that there’s always pressure – to look good, to end the night with someone, to give everyone something to gossip about.

‘y/n! You came!’ Jackson exclaims when he sees me, pulling me into an expensive smelling hug. ‘Hey, Jackson!’ ‘I was about to make a comment about how late you are, but you look really good, so I’ll let you off,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes. ‘Since when do you have to arrive to parties at a certain time?’ ‘You wouldn’t know, y/n, you’re always fashionably late,’ Tzuyu teases, and I cover my face with embarrassment – never have I arrived at a party before my friends (there’s just something about being there before the party has properly started that makes me want to cringe). ‘Anyway, what are you ladies drinking?’ ‘Diet Coke,’ Tzuyu says as she holds her cup up, Lisa drinking the same. ‘I’m drinking whatever the hell this is – Jeongyeon gave it to me,’ I say, and Jackson takes the cup, sipping from it, before his eyes widen. ‘Yo, this shit slaps. Where’s Jeongyeon? I want some,’ he says, turning away in search of her, and I call after him, ‘get me some more too, please!’

‘So… y/n,’ Lisa says with a knowing grin, making me raise an eyebrow at her. ‘Yes?’ I ask, she and Tzuyu exchanging an amused glance. ‘This dress is nice,’ Tzuyu says with the same knowing look as Lisa, and I look between them suspiciously. ‘Thanks,’ I say slowly, their smiles widening even more. ‘Who are you dressing to impress?’ Lisa asks, and I realise where this conversation is going, letting out a laugh. ‘Ah, you two. Can a girl not dress for herself?’ I grin, both of them raising their eyebrows. ‘Of course. But the timing’s a little suspicious. Not hoping for a round two, are we?’ Tzuyu asks, and I bite my lip embarrassedly. ‘What if we already had round two?’ I say quietly, both of their mouths falling open. ‘What?’ Lisa exclaims, drawing the attention of those around us, and I shut my eyes despairingly. ‘Keep your voice down, stupid!’ Tzuyu exclaims, Lisa murmuring an apology, still looking at me with wide eyes. ‘When?’ ‘Earlier, after practice. I met him in their changing rooms,’ I say, both of them looking even more shocked with each word. ‘Oh, my God! You two are, like, stuck in your own little forbidden and scandalous romance!’ Lisa whispers, and I shoot her a hard look. ‘It’s not a romance. He’s still, like, the most annoying and stupid person I’ve ever met. I mean, he literally left without making me cum, on purpose. He said if I showed up here tonight, he’d make it up to me,’ I whisper, both of them gasping quietly. ‘No way!’ Tzuyu says, and I nod. ‘So you’re gonna have a round three?’ Lisa asks, and I shrug. ‘I’m actually not sure. I don’t know whether I came so that I could leave with him, or so that I could piss him off by getting with someone else,’ I say, both of their eyes lighting up. ‘Get with someone else,’ they chorus, and I let out a gentle laugh.

Before I can reply, Jackson reappears with two cups in hand. ‘It’s Fireball Whisky with cream soda,’ he says, and I blink in surprise, not sure whether to be impressed or disgusted at Jeongyeon’s weird concoction. He takes the empty cup from my hand and hands me a new one, and I thank him as I take a sip. It really is good, and I know I need to be careful not to drink too much – I’ll forget just how strong whisky is and then find myself hunched over the toilet in a few hours, vomiting it all back up. ‘Are you guys gonna just sit here and chat all night? This is a party! We’re supposed to be having a good time,’ Jackson says, and I exchange a glance with the girls. ‘We are having a good time,’ Tzuyu replies mildly, and Jackson rolls his eyes. ‘So you’re not gonna come dance?’ he asks, and we all shake our heads. As much as I do love getting lit, it’s nice to just have a gossip with the girls sometimes. ‘Maybe later,’ I say, and he frowns, shaking his head. ‘You guys are boring.’ ‘Go find Joy, she’ll dance with you,’ Tzuyu suggests, and Lisa nods before adding, ‘and Dahyun. Come find us in a couple hours, and then we’ll dance with you too.’

Jackson quickly disappears, calling out for Joy and Dahyun, and the spot where he was stood is quickly occupied by a boy who I recognise as Chan, one of the boys on the team and a KPN brother. ‘Hi, Chan,’ Tzuyu says, the boy giving us a smile. ‘Hi, guys. You’re all cheerleaders, right?’ he asks, and we nod, confused as to where he’s going with this. ‘Do you wear these, like… little black shorts under your cheer outfits? Like super small, tight, black shorts?’ he asks, and I realise, dread flooding through me as we all nod. ‘They’re called safety shorts,’ Lisa says, and Chan nods. ‘I thought so. We saw a pair earlier, in the changing rooms, with one of the bows you guys wear, and some… underwear. Ripped. So I was just… curious, I guess,’ he says, Tzuyu and Lisa both turning their gazes to me. ‘Um… Chan, I’d be really grateful if you didn’t mention that to anyone,’ I say embarrassedly, the girls stifling laughs as Chan’s face falls with shock. ‘Oh! They were yours?’ he asks, and I nod, totally humiliated. ‘Who was, um, with you when you came in? There was just a couple of you, right?’ I ask, and he winces. ‘There were a few of us, actually. But it’s fine, I’ll tell them not to mention it to anyone. Your secret’s safe with us, y/n,’ he says with a grin, and I give him a weak smile. ‘Thanks, Chan.’ ‘No problem. Before I never mention it again, I just have one question,’ he says tentatively, and I close my eyes briefly, nodding as I brace myself. ‘Were you… in there when we went in?’ he asks, and I take a deep breath before nodding, his eyes widening. ‘In the shower cubicles, right?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘I thought I heard a banging noise,’ he says, and the girls burst out laughing. ‘No, no, it’s because I hit my head on the wall,’ I explain over their laughter, even more embarrassed now. ‘Sorry,’ Chan says, and I wave it off. ‘It’s fine, it’s my own fault for fucking in a public place,’ I say bluntly, and he lets out a gentle laugh.

The girls are still laughing when Chan leaves with the promise of never mentioning it again, and I shoot them dirty looks. ‘Are you gonna stop laughing any time soon or should I just go?’ I ask venomously, and their laughter gets even louder, making me roll my eyes. ‘Fine. I’m going,’ I say, pushing myself off my seat and leaving with my phone and drink in my hands, their laughter continuing behind me. I decide to venture into the living room, but regret my decision the second I walk in and lock eyes with Hyunjin – Chan’s whispering something to him, and he bites down on his lip when he sees me, obviously holding back a laugh at the irony of seeing me as Chan fills him in. I turn on my heel, instantly heading back into the kitchen and ignoring Hyunjin’s loud laughter behind me. But when my eyes meet Lisa’s and she bursts out laughing again, Tzuyu laughing too, I make a decision – I want to go home. I know none of them mean anything by it but it’s really… getting to me. I don’t like that nearly every conversation I’ve had in the last week has come back to Jimin – in fact, I hate it. I’m more than my sexual escapades, whether or not they’re with my worst enemy. I came here to have a good time with my friends tonight – not to speak about my sex life.

‘Mark,’ I say, catching the boy beside me offguard. ‘Oh, hey, y/n. You okay?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘I’m great. You?’ ‘I’m good, thanks. What’s up? You look… stressed.’ ‘I’m okay, I just… have you seen Jennie?’ I ask, and he nods, taking me by surprise. ‘I saw her go out the back door a couple minutes ago, with Seulgi and Nayeon,’ he says, and I grin at him. ‘Thank you, Mark, you’re the best!’ I exclaim, not giving him a second to reply before I quickly head towards the back door, ducking through the doorway before anyone else can speak to me. There’s a group of boys stood near the door, passing around a joint, and I quickly head past them, eyes skimming over the surroundings to see if the girls are here. I spot their three dark heads close together, looking at something on Seulgi’s phone, and I rush over. Nayeon spots me first, concern on her face as she watches me head towards them. ‘What’s the matter, y/n?’ she asks, the other two girls looking up at hearing my name. ‘I… I’m gonna leave,’ I say, all three of them looking at me in surprise – you usually have to drag me away from a party. ‘Why? You look hot, girl! You can’t waste this look!’ Seulgi exclaims, throwing an arm around my shoulders, and I give her a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Seulgi, but I just… I’m fed up of being teased about Jimin. Maybe it’s God punishing me for sleeping with him, but for fuck’s sake, isn’t him being an idiot punishment enough? I don’t need everyone bringing it up every two fucking seconds,’ I complain, the three of them exchanging amused glances.

‘Oh, babe, it sucks, but you’ve gotta be thick skinned. You have to remember that you have publicly hated him for as long as we’ve all known you, pretty much. The fact that you’ve slept with him is, like, a big deal. It’s hot gossip. Of course people are gonna want to talk about it, and you are gonna get teased. You can’t let it get to you, or people will do it even more,’ Jennie says rationally, and I know she’s right, but I still don’t want to accept it, pouting. ‘I know, you’re right, but I’m already in a bad mood now, and I just wanna go home,’ I say, and I know I’m being immature, but I don’t care. I notice Nayeon’s eyes wander from me to over my shoulder and then she says, ‘well, someone’s coming over, and I don’t whether he’s going to make your mood better or worse.’ I sigh, wanting to cry, and I can feel Seulgi holding back a laugh. ‘Shall I tell him to fuck off?’ Jennie asks, and I shake my head – I don’t have the energy to fight with him today.

‘y/n,’ I hear his stupid voice say, before he appears beside me. He’s dressed in all black, tight ripped jeans and a black button-up shirt, the top two buttons undone and revealing tanned and freckled skin, with a leather jacket over the top of it. He’s wearing silver jewellery again, rings, earrings, bracelets and a necklace, and he looks really fucking handsome, like always. He looks me up and down, his eyes nearly falling out of his head at my appearance as he sweeps his black hair back with one hand, before he looks at my face, the shock being replaced with concern. ‘You okay?’ he asks, and him caring about me makes me want to run a mile – he’s supposed to hate me, not worry when I’m upset and annoyed. ‘I… don’t know,’ I say tiredly, not quite sure what to say, and he looks even more concerned at that. ‘Shall we… give you guys a minute?’ Jennie says, and I look at her in surprise. She just looks back at me with a sad smile, and then I realise; she’s knows that there’s more to this, to me and… Jimin, than just two people who fucked even though they hate each other. And so do I, the thought terrifying me. His feelings are involved, and maybe mine are too, and I already know this is gonna get messy, messier than it should. But I don’t really have it in me to put a stop to it right now. I think I must have hurt him a lot when I left him last week (the thought of him waking up to an empty bed when he thought I would be there beside him makes me feel sick to my stomach) and I don’t ever want to hurt someone like that again. Even if it that someone is Jimin, the most annoying, stupid, selfish, egotistic, infuriating, big-headed person to ever walk the Earth.

I stay silent, and Jimin takes that as a sign to nod at the girls, all of them giving me little hugs before they head back up towards the house. The few people that are outside are watching interestedly and I want to just tell them to all fuck off. I used to think I’d love being the centre of attention all the time, but I’ve definitely changed my mind. ‘What’s the matter, y/n?’ he asks gently, and I sigh, not meeting his eyes as I think, not sure what to tell him. He stays quiet as he waits for me to speak, which leaves us in a heavy silence. ‘I… I’m just fed up. All anyone’s been speaking to me about is you and I don’t like it because there’s more to talk about to me than my sex life, and I hate that people are always staring at me now and probably thinking all these things about me when they barely know me and everyone’s making me regret sleeping with you but I don’t want to regret it because it was good and I enjoyed it and it was with you, but I don’t know why that’s making me not regret it but I kind of do know because I don’t think that I see you the same as I used to anymore, which is something else I hate because I’m supposed to hate you, and I do but I also don’t think I do, and I’m so confused, and I just want to go home,’ I say miserably all in one breath, and he looks a little taken aback, but nods when I’m finished speaking. ‘I… I’ve been thinking a lot of the same things the last week, and I’m confused too. So if it’s any consolation, I know how you feel,’ he says, and somehow… it is consolation. I already knew his feelings towards me had changed, but hearing that he feels all the other stuff too, it does make me feel better. But I’m a stubborn bitch.

‘No, actually, I’m not sure you do know how I feel. Because I didn’t make it harder for you. I didn’t show up somewhere solely to piss you off, and laugh with my friends to make you feel self-conscious, and be all smug and amused and rude to you, and pull your underwear out of my pocket in front of everyone to embarrass you. So no, Jimin, you don’t know how I feel,’ I reply angrily, unable to help myself, but it’s true – he made this all a hundred times worse at try-outs earlier, and I am angry at him for it. I wait for him to get angry in return, to point out that I probably didn’t make it any better for him by being a bitch, but I’m pleasantly surprised when he just nods, his head dropping sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to, I promise – I never intended to piss you off or to make you feel self-conscious or to embarrass you. I tend to… not think before I do things, and I guess my pride was hurt that you left so I wanted to just save face. And I shouldn’t have… left you earlier. I was just being petty and wanted to get back at you. I’m really sorry,’ he says earnestly, and I’m shocked into silence for a few moments, before I nod.

‘Okay. I accept your apology,’ I say, and he smiles. ‘I’m glad. Now… shall I take you home?’ he asks, and I blink in surprise. ‘What?’ ‘You said you wanted to go home so do you want me to take you?’ he offers, and I hesitate for a moment. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Because I’m supposed to hate you, and you’re supposed to hate me,’ I whisper, and he raises an eyebrow, taking a step closer to me. ‘Like I said earlier… would it really be so bad if we didn’t hate each other?’ he replies quietly, and I’m silent. ‘I don’t… I don’t know. It’s kinda… scary to think about. And it’s just easier to hate you. And…’ I trail off, and an amused smile appears on his stupid face. ‘You’re too stubborn to not hate me when you’ve hated me for so long, right?’ he says, seeing right through me, and I nod sheepishly. ‘We really need to work on your stubbornness, because I can see a future for us, y/n. If you could just give in to your feelings for me, we could pursue something together,’ he grins, but there’s no humour, no amusement in his voice at all, his honesty nearly winding me. He throws an arm around my shoulders and slowly walks us back up to the house. ‘A future? For you and me?’ I echo, and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘Yeah! We’ll get married as soon as we finish Uni, have a load of kids, and they can become footballers and cheerleaders to follow in our footsteps,’ he says, and I choke, making him let out a loud laugh. ‘Okay, maybe not as soon as we finish Uni. I’ll make that sacrifice.’ ‘Thanks.’ ‘Of course, angel. Anything for you.’

The second we step into the house, all eyes in the kitchen look up at us. ‘Can we help you?’ Jimin asks evenly, daring them to say something, and they’re all silent. ‘Thought so,’ he mutters, leading us over to where the drinks are as conversation resumes around us, albeit much quieter now. Jimin eyes the dozens of bottles covering the countertop before his eyes flit to the cup in my hand. ‘What you drinking, babe?’ he asks quietly, and I hold my drink up for him to try. ‘You trying to roofie me?’ he grins, and I let out a little laugh. ‘It’s Fireball whisky and cream soda. Jeongyeon’s concoction,’ I say, and he grimaces before trying some, his face instantly changing. ‘Oh, wow, that’s good,’ he says, reaching for the whisky bottle to pour himself some. ‘Did you just arrive?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘I literally got here, walked into the kitchen, saw you weren’t in here, asked Mark where you were, and he said you were outside. I was coming to apologise,’ he says, and my heart warms. ‘To be honest… I should apologise too,’ I say, and his mouth drops open. ‘I can’t believe my ears. Is stubborn y/n finally discarding her pride?’ ‘Shut up, stupid,’ I laugh, shoving him gently, and he grins. ‘You don’t have to apologise, angel. You were scared that we didn’t hate each other, so you left, and then you were a bitch to me so that I’d hate you. That’s it. Don’t worry about it,’ he says, and I nod, grateful that I don’t have to apologise.

‘Okay,’ he says once he’s poured his drink, ‘shall we get away from all the staring?’ I raise an eyebrow, and he laughs. ‘I didn’t mean that, but if you’re down. I still owe you from earlier,’ he says lowly with a smirk, and my breath catches in my throat. ‘Um… maybe later. Let’s… see what’s going on in the rest of the house,’ I say, and he nods, grinning at my flustered state. And then he takes my hand into his, our fingers laced together, and a little shock runs up my arm at the contact. I nearly slap myself – he was rearranging my guts earlier, but I’m getting butterflies at him holding my hand? Really?

He leads me into the living room, several pairs of eyes turning to us, but he completely ignores them, so I do too. ‘You wanna stay in here?’ he asks over the loud music, and I shake my head. He nods, continuing to lead us through the room into the front hallway. The layout is the same as the ASP house, so Jimin knows his way around, leading me through the hallway and pushing open the door to the other living room, where it’s considerably more chill. The haze of weed lays heavy on the air, music gently pulsing through the room, and there are a lot less people in here, majority the boys on the football team with their girlfriends. ‘Oh, y/n, Chan spoke to me, I…’ Felix calls to me before his eyes land on Jimin behind me, his words trailing off when he spots our intertwined hands. ‘Yeah, it’s… yeah,’ I say, a little embarrassed, and Felix just nods, holding back a laugh when Jimin looks between us. ‘What did Chan speak to you about, Lix?’ Jimin asks, and I cringe. ‘They’re the ones that walked into the changing rooms earlier,’ I say under my breath, and he lets out a little noise of realisation with a nod, a smirk playing at his lips as he looks at Felix, the boy looking endlessly amused. ‘Oh, are you guys talking about how we walked in on you in the changing room?’ Jisung calls out tactlessly, and I close my eyes, gathering myself, as laughter ripples around the room. ‘You know what? Let’s just leave,’ I say tiredly, more laughter following my words, and Jimin nods, bidding goodbye to his friends with a smug grin as he leads me out of the room.

‘Shall we sit outside?’ he suggests, and I nod, letting him pull me through the front door. I shut the door behind us, and when I turn back, Jimin’s sat on the front step, looking out onto the front garden. It’s surprisingly empty, and it’s quiet out here, the only noise coming faintly from inside. I sit down beside him, pulling my dress down, and Jimin notices, a greasy smirk appearing on his face. ‘I swear to God, Park, I will not hesitate to throw this drink at you,’ I say, and he laughs, eyes disappearing behind their lids. ‘I was just gonna say that you look really nice. That dress really suits you,’ he grins, and I eye him suspiciously, holding back a laugh. He holds his hands up, feigning innocence, and I let out a gentle laugh, taking a sip of my drink. ‘Did you wear it for me?’ he asks, and I nod without looking at him. ‘Good choice. I like it,’ he replies, reaching for my hand, and I can’t help the small smile on my face as he laces his fingers with mine, our hands resting in my lap.

We both fall into a comfortable silence, and it’s really nice. It’s like all the other stuff falls away and doesn’t matter anymore, and we’re just a girl and a boy sat on the front steps of a frat house, taking a moment away from the party under the night sky, holding hands and drinking whisky and soda. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I think that this is what true peace is like; when things are quiet and simple and easy, and nothing’s bothering me, nothing’s complicated or confusing, nothing matters. It’s almost too good to be true.

The door behind us opens after a few minutes, both of us turning to see Jeongin and Changbin, two more boys on the team, and Jimin grins widely when he sees them. I turn to face the front garden again, my back to the boys with my hand still in Jimin’s, both resting in my lap. ‘Boys! How are you? Ready for first practice next week?’ Jimin asks them, and I roll my eyes amusedly – football is their livelihood, and Jimin’s in his element talking about football, even more now that he’s been promoted to Captain. ‘Looking forward to it, Captain!’ Jeongin exclaims, hyping Jimin up even more. ‘Before we get distracted with football, we thought we’d let you know that, um, Rosie’s been looking for you. She asked us where you were and we said we didn’t know so we could buy you some time, but she’ll probably find you soon,’ Changbin says, and I freeze at the mention of his ex, Jimin wincing. ‘Um, okay, thanks, guys. I’ll, uh, speak to you later,’ he says, dismissing them, and they quickly disappear with a ‘bye’ thrown over their shoulders before the door shuts.

‘Why is Rosie looking for you?’ I ask amusedly, knowing exactly why she’s looking for him. She and Jimin have been in an on-again-off-again relationship for a long time, but he ended it for good at the end of last year, and stayed true to his word. According to the rumours, they don’t even talk anymore, just walk past each other without a word, and they haven’t slept with each other again. But she’s obviously got wind about me, and is jealous. ‘Um, yeah, about that. There’s probably something I should tell you,’ he says hesitantly, and I feel my body go a little cold as I turn my eyes to him – maybe there is a different reason she’s looking for him. ‘I… may have… slept with her… on Tuesday,’ he says, and the words don’t really register with me for a moment. ‘y/n?’ he says, eyes full of worry and I blink, realisation washing over me.

He slept with her. Four days ago.

I remove his hand from mine, and he flinches when I do so, retracting his hand slowly. ‘What… were you thinking?’ I ask, and he just blinks for a moment. ‘I was thinking that you hated me because you left and I was hurt so I found comfort in someone else,’ he says, tone neutral, but I can hear the defensiveness coming through. And, okay, maybe that is a good enough reason. But I’m still angry. Do I even have a right to be angry? ‘But your ex? Jimin, I-’ ‘Yes, y/n, my ex. I don’t really think you have a right to be angry. You left me. You knew my feelings for you were different to what you first thought, and you left anyway!’ he exclaims, voice rising, and I roll my eyes, letting out a humourless laugh. ‘I wasn’t obligated to stay just because you liked me!’ ‘But you liked me too!’ ‘I’m not sure I did, Jimin, and I’m still not sure about it! Besides, you literally said like fifteen minutes ago that you understood why I left and that I didn’t need to apologise for it!’ I point out, and he scoffs. ‘I do understand, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less, y/n. I was hurting and she was at the ASP house picking up her hair clip that she lost at the party and one thing led to ano-’ ‘So she just happened to be at the house, picking up a hair clip, three days after what happened between you and me? You don’t think she planned that?’ I say incredulously, unable to believe how dense he is. ‘So what if she did? To me, it was meaningless sex, to get my mind off you. I don’t think you have a right to be angry.’ ‘I don’t think I do either, but I still am!’ I exclaim, and he rolls his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. ‘You’re not angry, you’re jealous.’ ‘I’m not jealous, Jimin, don’t be ridiculous,’ I scoff, even more pissed off now. ‘You are.’ ‘If I said, ‘let’s go upstairs and fuck’ right now, you would be down, so what have I got to be jealous about?’ I ask lowly, and his eyes darken. ‘Fine. You’re not jealous. You’re angry I slept with someone else because you like me. Don’t even bother saying you’re still not sure because that’s the only reason for you to be angry. And in that case, I understand. And I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,’ he says calmly, and I don’t say anything, looking away from him.

After a few moments, he reaches for my hand tentatively, gauging my reaction before lacing our fingers together again. ‘You don’t have to apologise. I’m just being silly,’ I say, and he chuckles, moving closer to me. ‘I’ll apologise as many times as you need me to. I really do like you, y/n, and I kinda have for a while. I don’t want to fuck up whatever this is happening between us. And I know you’re still reluctant and you still want to hate me or whatever, but I don’t mind waiting until you’re ready. I’m happy to take time to win you over,’ he says softly, and my heart warms a little. The contrast between this Jimin and the Jimin from last week really is insane. There are so many sides to him, it’s hard to keep track. ‘Sorry,’ I say, and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘You don’t have to apologise for getting angry that I slept with my ex, even if we didn’t make any commitments to each other. I understand,’ he says simply, and I can’t help the smile on my face as I shuffle even closer to him, our sides pressed together and my head resting on his shoulder.

And again, it’s nice. But it really is too good to be true. The door behind us is wrenched open before we hear, ‘Jimin?’ I sigh, Jimin turning to look at Rosie. ‘Rosie,’ he replies, voice neutral, and I turn around, our eyes meeting. ‘Hi, Rosie,’ I smile at the girl. I’ve never actually had a problem with Rosie – we run in the same social circles, she’s a Cheerleader, and we’ve never been close but from what I know of her, she’s okay. ‘Hi, y/n. Do you mind if I speak to Jimin for a moment?’ she says sweetly. ‘Of course,’ I reply with a smile, not moving a muscle, and Jimin sighs. ‘y/n, please,’ he says, and I turn to him, annoyance unfurling in my chest. ‘Okay,’ I say coldly, dropping his hand from mine and rising up, brushing past Rosie into the house.

What is wrong with him? Has he got no common sense? The logical thing to have done is obviously to not speak to her – what could she possibly have to say? All she’s going to do is try to get him back. And he’s really stupid enough to ask me to leave? Am I a dickhead? I let out an angry sigh, deciding that I’ve had enough. He’s been spouting all this shit about how he doesn’t want to fuck this up, and then literally like two fucking minutes later, he’s having a private conversation with his ex. This is like ‘To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before’ but in real life. He’s Peter, Rosie’s Gen and I’m Lara Jean. Somehow though, I feel like I won’t have the same happy ending.

‘y/n!’ I hear Jennie call from the other living room, where she’s sat with Jihyo and Irene, and I sigh, heading in. ‘What’s happened?’ she asks, and I roll my eyes, the attention of everyone in the room on me. ‘He apologised and we made up but then he asked me to leave so he could have a private conversation with his ex,’ I say, and they all gasp, confirming that I’m not a crazy bitch and that he shouldn’t be having private conversations with his ex. ‘Oh, girl, you better not forgive his stupid ass,’ Jihyo says, the other girls in the room nodding and giving various agreements, and the boys are all quiet – they obviously feel a sense of loyalty to Jimin and don’t want to talk bad about him. ‘I feel so pissed, but I also feel like I don’t have a right to be pissed,’ I say, and the girls all frown, disagreeing instantly. ‘You do have a right to be pissed. You should go throw your drink over his stupid head,’ Jennie says angrily, and I hold back a laugh.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I sigh helplessly, perching on the arm of Seungmin’s armchair. ‘It’s a red flag, y/n. End things here – don’t let it go too far otherwise you’ll get too attached, your feelings will get deeper and stronger, and it’s just not worth it. Him and Rosie are always messing around and it’ll probably be like that for a long time – she’s a nice girl but she’s got Jimin wrapped around her finger and she knows it. If he tries to move on, she’ll stop it. It’s not worth you getting involved in that, because you shouldn’t have to compete with his ex,’ Irene says softly, everybody listening to her, and I know she’s exactly right; I might… maybe… kinda… sorta… like(?) Jimin now, but he’s not worth competing with another girl for. If there’s even a choice for him, I should walk away. I deserve someone who wants me and only me. ‘God, you’re right,’ I wail, throwing myself back against the armchair and lifting my hand to my face despairingly, a little laugh running around the room at my dramatics as Seungmin pats my arm comfortingly. ‘I know he’s our friend, y/n, but he’s also kinda a dick when it comes to girls, and we all know it. I mean, he was literally bragging to us yesterday about what happened between you guys,’ Minho says, and I feel my focus shifting entirely to his words when he says that, my entire body tensing. ‘What did he say?’ I ask calmly, though I can feel my anger slowly rising, along with the tension in the room. ‘Well… um,’ Minho begins hesitantly, before sighing, ‘we all went to ASP last night for KPN and ASP Pizza Friday, and we were speaking about going to watch you guys at the try-outs. JB mentioned that, as the new captain, you might get pissed if we showed up, and then the conversation turned to you and Jimin last week.’

I’m in total shock; he blatantly lied to me earlier, by telling me that he’d only told his closest friends. The thought that all those boys were sat together last night, talking about me, makes my stomach turn. ‘What did he tell you guys?’ I ask shakily, despite not actually wanting to know. ‘Um… everything,’ Minho says, and my heart drops. ‘Everything?’ ‘Yeah. Everything,’ Chan confirms, voice gentle, and I can feel tears pricking my eyes. ‘Wow. Okay. So not only is he a dick, he blatantly lied,’ I say flatly, the room completely silent other than the low RnB beat pulsing from the speaker. ‘I’m gonna go. Sorry for, uh, killing the vibe,’ I say quietly, pushing myself up from the arm of Seungmin’s armchair and heading towards the door, multiple people in the room calling after me.

I quickly dart up the stairs, dodging past the couple making out on the landing and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Part of me is numb, in complete shock, and doesn’t know how to react. Another part of me is unbelievably hurt that he completely lied to my face, and that he asked me to leave so he could talk to his ex. Privately. Another part of me is totally humiliated that he told the boys everything, my pride completely ruined now. And the other part of me is annoyed at myself for being so hurt about a boy who, this time last week, I hated and would’ve rather fought than fucked.

‘y/n, it’s me,’ I hear Jennie’s voice from the other side of the door, and I unlock it to let her in. She pulls me into a hug, and I have to scrunch my eyes shut to stop myself from crying, pushing my head into her neck as she rubs my back comfortingly. ‘He’s so trash, babe. So trash. You deserve so much better,’ she says soothingly, and I try my best to fully believe her words, but it’s hard when I’m also trying to hold back my tears.

Before I can even speak to her, Jiwon’s head appears around the door, her eyes widening when she sees how upset I am. ‘y/n! Sorry for just walking in but are you okay?’ she asks, eyes big with concern, and my heart warms. ‘Ugh, yeah,’ I say, Jennie and I moving apart, and I tilt my head back, blinking furiously to get rid of my tears. ‘It’s just Jimin. He’s such a dick. I’m done with him,’ I say, the words coming out of my mouth before I even think of them, and I realise that, yes, I am done with him. I’m not wasting my time on him anymore.

‘Good. You deserve better. I mean, I knew he was a dick when he literally grabbed me on the way up to his room last week and dragged me along behind him. He made me think he was attracted to me, but he obviously just wanted to make you jealous,’ Jiwon says, and it makes me hate him even more. I didn’t even think about how hurt she must have been when she realised he was just using her. ‘God, he really is a dick,’ I spit, face twisted up in disgust, and Jiwon lets out a gentle laugh. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t see that sooner.’ ‘I knew all along. There was a reason I hated him so much – he’s always been a self-absorbed, egotistic, arrogant douche, but now… he’s even worse in my eyes.’

‘Shall we head back downstairs, get you a drink, dance? Or… shall we head home? We could have a little girls’ night – we’ve got a couple bottles of Echo Falls in the fridge, Clueless and Mean Girls on Netflix, and I have a few face masks. We could invite some of the other girls, too. And you could join us, Jiwon. We could get drunk, order pizza and talk about how much of a bastard Jimin is,’ Jennie says, the three of us laughing. She’s really sold the idea – it sounds like a lot of fun – but it’s late already. It’s better if I just head home and go to sleep. I actually feel exhausted after the events of today; it’s been an emotional rollercoaster, and I’m literally craving my bed right now. ‘That sounds fun, Jen, but maybe we could do that another night. I could do with just sleeping tonight,’ I say, and she nods, smiling gently.

‘Shall I order an Uber?’ ‘You stay,’ I say, and she frowns. ‘Why would I stay? You’re upset – I’ll come back with you.’ ‘No, honestly, I’ll be fine. You stay, enjoy the party. You haven’t even spent any time with Namjoon,’ I say, and she rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t care about spending time with Namjoon right now. You’re my priority. I’m coming home with you,’ she says firmly, pulling her phone out of her pocket, and I exchange an exasperated glance with Jiwon, the other girl incredibly amused.

As soon as Jennie’s ordered the Uber, we head downstairs to bid everyone goodbye. The second I step into the kitchen, Jin and Jungkook appear in front of me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. ‘Don’t say a word, because I swear to God, I won’t hesitate to kick you both in the balls,’ I threaten angrily, and their grins soon disappear. ‘Have you been crying, y/n? What’s the ma-?’ ‘Don’t say a word!’ I exclaim, pushing past them to say goodbye to Wendy, Lisa, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, the three of them giving me tight and comforting hugs – it seems that word’s already gotten around to the girls about Jimin and I. Then, in the living room, Nayeon, Seulgi, Mina, Jeongyeon, Jisoo, Momo, Joy and Sana all stop dancing the second I walk in, smothering me in hugs, and I know for sure that word has gotten around. And then, in the other living room, Jihyo, Irene, Yeri and Dahyun all give me big hugs too, and it really does make me feel better. Girls say it a lot, but it’s true – as long as you have your girls around you, you really don’t need a man. Any KNP or ASP boys that I walk past get the cold shoulder – they were all present when Jimin told them the dirty details and, despite some of them being my friends, close friends, not one of them thought to tell me. The only person that gets a goodbye from me is Minho; the rest of them can fuck themselves.

When I reach the front door, my hand shakes for a moment and I hesitate, Jennie putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. I take a deep breath, rolling back my shoulders and raising my chin a little, injecting as much confidence into my body language as possible before I aggressively turn the handle, pulling the door towards me forcefully. They’re still sat on the front doorstep, Rosie where I was sat just half an hour ago, and they both jump when they hear the door open. And even though they react instantly, I still spot Jimin’s hand retracting from Rosie’s, leaving hers empty.

My eyes flit back up, in front of me, and I carefully walk through the gap between them, ignoring them both completely. ‘y/n? Are you leaving?’ I hear Jimin ask, but Jennie puts a hand on my back, the both of us continuing to walk up towards the road and away from him. ‘y/n! Wait!’ he calls after me, and then I hear his footsteps behind us, making my blood boil – can he not take the hint? ‘What, Jimin?’ I demand, whirling around to face him, and he hesitates in his steps. ‘y/n-’ ‘No, Jimin, don’t ‘y/n’ me. What the fuck do you want?’ ‘I… you’re angry at me,’ he says quietly, and I let out a harsh laugh. ‘Great observation, Jimin! What else will you come out with? The grass is green? Or the sky is blue, perhaps?’ ‘Okay, you don’t need to be so bitchy to m-’ ‘Bitchy?’ I practically scream, marching towards him, and he recoils away from me. Good. I’m glad he’s scared.

‘I think I’m well within my rights to be bitchy to you, you fucking bastard!’ I shriek, and he flinches, confusion all over his face. ‘What did I do, y/n? I… let me fix it,’ he says, and I let out another humourless laugh. ‘Fix it? You want to fix it?’ I ask hysterically, voice shaking, ‘You might’ve been able to fix the fact that you asked me to leave so you could have a private conversation with your ex, but that’s a very strong ‘might’, because I am not a choice, Jimin! You don’t get to mess me around! I’m number one, or I’m nothing to you at all!’ ‘Okay. Okay, I understand, and I’m sorry. I won’t do something like that again,’ he says earnestly, desperation in his eyes, but I can’t muster up any sympathy at all. Maybe I am a bitch, like he told me so many times last week.

‘No, you’re not going to do something like that again. Because you’re not going to have the chance, Jimin. We are done. That’s it,’ I say, and any hope that was in his eyes completely disappears, the light draining away. ‘What? Why? I thought you wanted… to give us a go,’ he says quietly, sounding… lost, and confused. It only makes me angrier – he’s not gonna get away with playing innocent today. ‘I did. Before I found out that you went and blabbed every single detail of last week to every fucking frat boy in ASP and KPN last night! Did you somehow forget about that, or did you purposely leave out that detail when I asked you earlier?’ I scream, body shaking with fury, and the second he registers my words, the colour disappears from his face, and he looks like he might throw up. He doesn’t say anything, and I give him the chance, but he doesn’t even bother to deny it, just stares at me in shock and the last shred of my hope that maybe Minho lied, that he exaggerated, or that maybe Jimin only told a couple of the guys disappears. ‘Yeah. That’s what I thought too. So forgive me for being such a bitch,’ I spit at him, and he opens his mouth to speak, no words coming out.

‘Go on. Say something. You’ve had plenty to say all night. So let’s hear it,’ I prompt sarcastically, and he just blinks before he whispers miserably; ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘Sorry? You’re sorry? Oh, well, that’s okay! Everything’s solved now, huh? That just makes everything fine!’ I shout, and his head drops, eyes on the ground. ‘Not only did you tell everyone, you lied about it! So how can I pursue something with you when you’re already lying to me? I can’t trust a word you say!’ ‘I… I’m not defending myself… but you lied to me too, y/n. You told me that you told Jennie, and ‘a couple of the other girls’. But we both know that was a lie,’ he says slowly, stuttering as he speaks, and I’m dumbfounded, in complete and utter shock.

‘You… you don’t understand. I told the girls, my closest friends. We tell each other everything. I’ve been there for them through everything, and they’ve been there for me through everything. You told two entire fraternities of immature and idiotic man children! You don’t think there’s a difference between the two? I bet they congratulated you, right? On getting the girl that hates you into bed? Asked what I was like? What my body looks like? Whether I had good head game, or good pussy? Saw me as just a slut, another conquest, another notch in your belt? Two entire fraternities objectified me last night, and you can’t even try to tell me otherwise, because I can guarantee that every girl in this damn university has had an experience to prove that you frat boys are disgusting. So you can fuck yourself, Jimin, and don’t ever compare me telling the girls to you telling those idiots again,’ I spit out angrily, and he’s completely silent, confirming everything I’ve just said. ‘I’m done with you. Don’t ever speak to me again,’ I hiss before turning on my heel and marching to where Jen stands outside the Uber, smiling at me softly.

‘That was amazing. I’m so proud of you,’ she says when I reach her, and I smile back as she opens the car door, letting me climb in first. I slide across the seat, Jennie following me in, and when she shuts the door behind her, I feel my heart pulse with hurt, eyes filling with tears. And as the driver pulls away from the house and I turn to look out of the rear window, being met with the sight of Jimin stood there, watching the car drive away, his eyes shining with tears, I can’t hold back my own, sobbing as if my heart would break.

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loveactionsspeaklouder · 4 years ago

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we belong together - kylian mbappé and julian draxler fanfic

8| Cry for Help

november 2023| paris

After his meeting with Adam, the next few weeks dragged for Kylian. He tried to stay away from Molly, and he was successful; he was thankful Rosalie was starting to spend more time at home, she had noticed the change in her fiancé. Kylian would smile more when he wasn't around his former girlfriend, it still broke him to see the person she had turned into and he could only keep blaming himself.

Molly was also thriving; Adam didn't know how, but he loved having the other version of her back. She was more confused that she didn't have to pretend to be in love with him, she actually was enjoying the time they had spent together. She never truly got over her break-up with Adam, so being back with him was natural for her.

Kylian couldn't get the conversation with Adam out of his head; he knew he needed to get answers, he just didn't realise those were the answers he would receive. But he still felt like there was things hidden that nobody knew about, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. He couldn't bare seeing Molly like this anymore, he knew deep down, she was still in there.

....

november 2023| paris

Molly slowly sipped on the glass of wine in her hand; it was very rare she didn't have at least one glass every night. It calmed her down and she needed that a lot recently, but she wasn't sure why. With how drilled she had her emotions, she realised she was slowly starting to lose herself and she was scared. She finished the last sip, just in time to catch the doorbell ringing. She sluggishly opened the door to her apartment, rolling her eyes as they landed on Kylian. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Very funny," he laughed. The smirk on his face was evident as he strolled into her apartment, briefly kissing her lips as his body passed hers. "I wanted to see you."

Molly huffed and again, rolled her eyes. She felt her thighs grow warm as she gazed into his eyes, she couldn't help the butterflies that started to form in her stomach. What has gotten into you? She shook her head, a cynical smile finding her lips. "Aw, did somebody miss me?"

"Always," Kylian softly smiled. She mockingly laughed, she realised if she rolled her eyes one more time, they would physically roll out of her head. He walked around her apartment, gazing at some of the work on her table. He watched as she rested her arms on the kitchen counter and turned to face him. "So, what were you and Julian talking about today? Looked cosy."

"That's what this is about? You're jealous," Molly sniggered. "I can't believe you were watching me. That's risky."

"I'm not jealous," he growled. Her sneering smile remained as he neared her, placing a hand on her hair and pulling it slightly, forcing her to look up at him. She closed her eyes, feeling him attach his lips to the exposed skin on her neck. "I can't stop watching you," he mumbled, his lips on her earlobe. "You know I want you."

Molly dismissed his final words, changing their position; she stepped closer to his body, which was now sat on the chair, standing between his legs. "Where have you been the past few weeks then?" she hissed. "Are you worried about Julian?" her hands found the edge of Kylian's pants, she slowly slid her fingers inside, wrapping them around the hardening bulge between his legs. "Are you scared I might do something with him again?"

"Don't tease me, Molly," he warned. He allowed her to continue touching him, drawing in a quick breath. "Do you ever think about it?"

"About what?"

"The past. Me and you."

"No," she lied. Truthfully, she thought about it every day. She didn't know why, but when she was on her own, her mind would travel back to the moments she shared with Kylian. And Julian. She felt sad, but also happy at the same time. She started to feel like herself, the woman she once was, before all the heartbreak she had endured. "I don't like to think about the person I used to be."

"Why not?" Kylian questioned. She rolled her eyes at him; every time they were together, he would always question about how she had changed. "I loved that person."

"So, you don't love me now?" Molly smirked, straddling his lap. He rapidly shook his head, she laughed and stroked his cheek. She licked her lips and rested her forehead on his. She closed her eyes and breathed in. She opened her eyes and gazed into Kylian's, he was shocked; her eyes showed emotion, they showed love and adoration and it was all for him. "I can't stop thinking about you either."

"I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere." He attached his lips to hers, in a longing and passionate kiss. It was a kiss that Molly had pushed away, it was meaningful and affectionate, unlike the affair they were experiencing. It was the one thing she promised she wouldn't do and now it was all happening. She was starting to feel.

She stood up and walked over to her door. "Adam will be home soon, you need to leave."

Kylian followed her and bit his lip, he kissed her cheek and watched as she relaxed under his touch. He lingered his lips a few seconds longer, before whispering in her ear. "I'm sorry, I'll see you soon."

....

december 2023| paris

Adam knew he had to call Kylian, he knew it was his only option and he wasn't bothered if it upset Molly. He was worried about his girlfriend, she hadn't moved from her bed in two weeks. She had refused to; go to work, see friends, speak to her family and even as far as not let him enter their bedroom, despite his relentless pleas. He hadn't seen her like this before; when her father died, she was upset, but she still powered through, even though it broke her inside.

"How bad is it?" Kylian questioned; he knew when he received the call it was serious, Adam would never willingly ask him for help with Molly. "I haven't seen her at work and nobody knows what's going on. She hasn't spoken to anyone."

"I haven't seen her like this before," Adam exhaled. He ran his hands over his head and eyed the Frenchman. "She's in the bedroom. The doors unlocked, so you can go in. Please help her."

Kylian nodded and waited a few seconds before walking into the bedroom. He heavily sighed when he saw Molly's body curled up in the duvet, he instantly knew what she wanted. Before she left Paris, he would catch her in these situations; if she was tired from work or life, she would always find comfort in her bed, tightly wrapping the blanket around her toned body. He knew she was in pain and fully understood how to help her. He moved into the space next to her and softly wrapped his arms around her body, he heard her exhale and move closer towards him. He kissed her neck and tenderly traced circles on her thighs with his fingers.

They stayed in that position for thirty minutes, neither saying a word. Molly felt herself calm down and relax under Kylian's grasp. She turned around and rested her forehead on his; moving a hand to his cheek to gently stroke the skin, before quickly connecting their lips. "Thank you."

Kylian's eyes glossed over, he tucked a strand of hair behind Molly's ear. "I told you, I'm always here for you," he whispered. He reconnected their lips into a passionate kiss, pulling her body on top of his. He didn't care that Adam was in the next room, the only thing on his mind was comforting the brunette. "Come back to me, Moll."

She shook her head and rested it in the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around his body. "I can't," she whimpered. Kylian froze and realised Molly was crying, he thought back to his conversation with Adam. She doesn't cry and when she does, you know she's hurting. He gulped and cupped her cheeks. He gazed into her eyes, why isn't she looking at me? he pondered. Molly knew she couldn't look him in the eyes; all the work she had done was starting to crumble, she was afraid of the consequences it would cause. She was always the smart one, the one who played to win. She was damn good at it, she was the best. But then she started to take her eye of the ball, and just like that, the rules of the game changed. She was no longer playing to win, this was a new game, now she was playing for her heart. "I'm scared."

"Look at me," Kylian demanded. She intertwined their fingers and rested them in her lap, obeying to his command. "I know your still hurting and I am so fucking sorry for being a part of it. But you can't lock up all that emotion, it's only making you worse and I hate to see you like this. Please let me help you, I lo—"

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Kylian's ringtone, he glanced over and saw it was Rosalie. Molly smiled and rolled back onto the bed, playing with the hem of her top. She watched as Kylian walked into the bathroom, closing the door and leaving her with her thoughts. Can I go back to him? What about Adam? Why do I overthink everything? She released a scream, allowing the pillow to muffle the sound.

Molly eyed Kylian as he returned from the bathroom, she watched him sit on the edge of the bed and place his head in his hands. She wondered if he would ever leave Rosalie for her. She moved closed to him and slowly traced her fingers over his arms. He raised his head and loudly exhaled. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. "Is everything okay?"

"Rosalie's pregnant."

....

a/n: i know i promised an update yesterday and i'm sorry, but this is a good one yeah?? SO, rosalie is pregnant, what does that mean for molly and kylian's affair?? and also, where is julian? ooo!!

love you all as always, speak soon xxx

#Kylian Mbappe #julian draxler #fanfiction #fanfic #football #psg #Paris Saint Germain #Football Fanfiction #football imagine #imagine #kylian mbappe imagine #julian draxler imagine

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august-unhinged · 4 years ago

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Routine

Setting: modern day, unspecified Alpine university town Genre & tone: some kind of evil unhealthy romance-porn. Tone is light with dark undertones, and ditches the light halfway in. Themes: desperate approval-seeking, power imbalance, student/professor, established relationship Content: transmasc main character, m/m Kinks: servitude, rope bondage, forced orgasms, noncon, forced anal sex, praise and degradation, sadism/emotional sadism, masochism/emotional masochism, forced cheating Content warnings: Noncon. Painful sex. Unsafe kink practices. Power imbalance. Manipulative/abusive relationship. Trans person as the victim, cis men as the enactors of violence.

Word count is ~10k, there’s 3k words of setup. If you want to skip straight to the porn, scroll until you see the paragraph starting in bold.

Killian’s alarm rings every morning at seven. It rings, and he hates it with every fibre of his being for a moment before he comes to and realises where he is. It really is a blessing, he reminds himself every morning. Killian wakes up on a cramped campbed that ruins his posture, simultaneously cold and sweaty on the mornings when the mountain chill threatens at the window panes, and feels nothing but gratitude for his surroundings. The pale beauty of the alpine city sprawling below them is breathtaking, but it’s the house he’s in that really gives him pause. Because he wakes in Felix’s office. On a roll-out mattress behind the Professor’s desk. At the feet of his master, even unconscious.

He has this thought process in the time it takes for him to reach over and turn off his alarm. It used to take him ten minutes to snap out of the daze - but he quickly learned that Felix doesn’t tolerate daydreaming. Killian mutters the Lord’s Prayer as he pulls on his slippers; he’s grateful for rising another morning and for where he’s risen. He pads softly into the kitchen, floorboards becoming tile under his feet as he steps into the day’s routine.

Today is slightly different, though. Killian’s heart’s trilling in his chest, resistant to his efforts to not get his hopes up again. The past couple of months had been a litany of scattered anniversaries. There was the first time Killian had been to one of Felix’s parties, the first time Felix had read one of Killian’s papers (and said it was ‘fine’!), the first time they sat and smoked and got unreasonably high until dawn broke the clouds while Killian listened adoringly to Felix’s every word. None of these were tangible, though - hardly an accepted marker of the progression of a relationship, either. But a year ago today was when Felix casually handed Killian a key to his apartment alongside a vague explanation that it would just be easier for Killian to be able to come and go as he pleased, rather than having to interrupt Felix’s day whenever he needed something. It was an offhanded exchange that still made Killian’s heart flutter for weeks after. He is hyper-aware of the gift in his possession at all times. No matter where he keeps the key it seems to burn through layers of fabric, the cool metal branding his skin in a hopeless reminder that Killian belongs.

He sets the water to boil and sits at the counter to go through Felix’s diary. Chapter review at 11 - a pushback of a pushback, but Killian is still bracing himself for an early morning announcement that Felix has something far more important to do. Donors’ lunch at 1pm, where Killian will be ever-presently taking notes. And lectures in the afternoon. Killian always memorises Felix’s diary a week in advance but looking at it with the kettle quietly rumbling in the background always frames his day with a sense of purpose. He pencils in some notes under the donor’s lunch - names and how to remember them, jokes not to make so they’ll still give us lots of money - Felix can’t possibly be expected to remember it all. Killian puts the diary on the left of the breakfast tray so Felix can read it while he eats, fills a glass with orange juice so it won’t be too cold to drink by the time he brings it through. The kettle’s finished boiling and he fills the cafetière - a spoonful and a half of the good stuff, which sits on the shelf in front of Killian’s instant. He drops two slices of granary in the toaster and hunts for a knife.

Routine.

He thrives on it.

That being said, he’s changing it up a little today - as the coffee steeps, he steams the milk in an attempt to recreate something he saw in one of the local coffee shops Felix hates but Killian secretly enjoys. He’s in his own head, dancing to an imperceptible tune, trying to figure out how to pour it right to get the shape on top of the coffee-

And the toast pops up. Killian jumps, spilling the milk on the counter, the floor, and himself. ‘Fuck.’ The cup now contains nondescript beige liquid and a smattering of foam - it’s hopeless to begin to contemplate starting another, because Killian always times breakfast perfectly to-

Felix’s alarm starts ringing insistently, and with a heavy sigh Killian marmalades the toast, piles everything onto the tray slightly more haphazardly than usual, and brings it to Felix.

Killian misses when he could watch Felix at peace. By the time Felix is awake and Killian comes to greet him, the Professor’s face has already settled into the practiced disdain that morning brings him. ‘Morning,’ Killian calls as he opens the door with his elbow, doing his quick inhale-and-hold-it in case there’s a pretty twink in Felix’s bed.

There’s not. And breathe.

Killian sets the tray down on the bedside table and stays silent, waiting. Felix appraises the tray with a cool gaze.

‘Killian,’ he says, with enough leeway in his tone for Killian’s heart to begin pounding. ‘You know I take my first coffee of the morning black.’ He’s reproachful, less sympathetic and more pitying.

‘Quite right, Professor,’ come the automatic words as Killian picks up the cup and returns to the kitchen to start the whole tedious process again. Even tediousness has a special significance here, though. Everything Killian does, he does it for Felix.

Killian has felt even more in a daze than usual today. By the time he gets back to Felix’s place, he’s frustrated with himself. He made a fool out of himself in the chapter review, nodding along but not really listening, which became apparent after one particularly unforgiving stretch of silence where Killian was supposed to be talking. ‘We may as well leave it there, then,’ Felix had said, his tone final. They broke half an hour early.

Killian doesn’t want to go home. The simplicity of the phrase is enough to make him stop in his tracks halfway up the cobbled hill to the apartment. When did it become ‘home’? It technically isn’t - Killian still pays rent to a student-sized cardboard box twenty minutes from campus, where he returns in shifts to wash his clothes and pick up mail. But he hasn’t spent a night there since Felix gave him the key a year ago. It feels alien to sleep alone in his flat, surrounded neither by the familiar leather-and-papers scent of Felix’s office, nor the comforting knowledge that Professor is breathing quietly in the next room. The idea that he’s still sleeping in the old flat and that this was all a terrible fever dream wakes Killian up at least once a week. Killian shakes his head fiercely, as though to shake all unwanted thoughts out of his brain. He’s being ungrateful. If he’s reluctant to go to Felix’s because he’s made a tit of himself, well… he shouldn’t have made a tit of himself. He shrugs. Simple enough. Killian continues up the hill and ignores the part inside him that implores him to turn away.

It’s dark by the time Killian unlocks the door - on his walk there the streetlamps were just beginning to flicker on, breaking the dusky early-evening monotone. To his surprise, when he gets there, lights are on in the apartment. He had been expecting to be alone this evening. It’s useless to try and quash the hope that Felix has remembered, that he’s planned something, so Killian reluctantly allows himself to foster the damaging expectation that Felix would ever consider the relationship worth commemorating.

‘Hello?’ Killian calls towards the bedroom light, uncertain. The door opens and Felix steps out. He’s still in the suit he’d been wearing at work but his hair, usually tightly pushed back, is now falling in front of his face and his glasses are tucked into his jacket pocket. With the warm glow of the soft bedroom lighting behind him, filtering through the salt-and-pepper strands around his head and bringing out the warm hazel in his eyes, he looks divinely formed.

‘You’re back earlier than anticipated,’ Felix replies disapprovingly.

‘I could say the same about you,’ Killian says, attempting to be jovial. He drops his satchel by the door and bends to untie his laces.

‘I was hoping you’d spend the evening going over what we discussed earlier today.’ Killian worries at his lip.

‘I did this afternoon, Felix. It just took less time than I expected.’

‘Ah. Possibly because you spent our meeting daydreaming?’

Killian might be a silly romantic, but it gives him butterflies when Felix uses the first person plural when it’s just them in the room. It makes Killian feel like he’s a part of something worthwhile. Something bigger. ‘You’re doing it again.’

‘I’m sorry, Felix,’ Killian sighs. ‘I’m having an off day.’

‘Well, you won’t be able to afford that luxury in the future, Killian. So I suppose it’s best you have your “off days” now.’

This is Felix telling Killian he’s forgiven. He’s crossing to the kitchen now, busying himself with something Killian can’t figure out. There are cupboards that are functionally Killian’s to use, and Felix is inexplicably looking in them. ‘There’s marking on the desk, by the way. I need it before noon tomorrow.’ Killian grimaces internally.

‘Right - do you mind if I start later? I need to eat. Sorry.’ In the bustle of the donor’s lunch and the ever-present need for notetaking, he’d completely forgotten to eat and was now uncomfortably ravenous.

Felix tuts impatiently, as though at a slow child. ‘I’m cooking tonight, Killian. You have thirty-three papers to mark. Off you go.’

‘Oh. Right, okay. Yeah, I’ll just go and… do that.’ Killian hides the surprise in his voice as he answers but allows the confusion to stay on his face. It’s not that Felix can’t cook, it’s just that he has at least two meals out a week anyway, and it’s easier to delegate now Killian lives with him. Killian’s heart is fluttering again. He leaves the office door open a crack and crosses to the record player in the corner before he starts working on the papers. Well-practiced, he squats in front of the vinyl cabinet below the record player and slides out the fifth from the left - a jazz recording, one of Felix’s favourites. Reverently, he lifts the lid on the record player and sets the album A-side up, gently placing the needle onto the record’s outermost rim. The volume is already at the perfect setting for Felix to have it as background music, and Killian holds his breath.

No complaints from the kitchen.

For the first time that day, he allows himself to smile.

Dinner is gnocchi, brown butter, and sage. Killian scarfs it down, utterly and blissfully unaware of himself until the moment he drops his fork onto the plate and Felix clears his throat. For reference, Felix is less than a third of the way through his plate by this point. ‘Keeping your head firmly in the clouds is hungry work, I see,’ Felix gently mocks, and Killian laughs - breathy and embarrassing.

‘Hah, yeah, funny how that is, isn’t it,’ are all the words that tumble from his mouth before he reminds himself how to keep it shut. ‘How was your day?’

‘The lunch was frightfully tedious - it’s a constant source of horror to me that I must attend lunch after lunch to explain why the arts are worth funding ad nauseam. They’re trying to frame knowledge as a business, Killian, through the structures of client and customer and value for money - it’s reprehensible. To be frank, anyone who requires an explanation as to why the pursuit of knowledge is man’s only truly selfless act is not someone with whom I would engage anywhere other than a business lunch. Hopefully they won’t bother us for at least another year.’

Killian has been nodding furiously along the entire time - there’s just something about hearing Felix talk, in memorising every modulation in pitch and tone, that’s more relaxing to Killian than almost anything else in the world. ‘Write that down, by the way.’

‘About the pursuit of knowledge?’

‘That’s the one. Good boy.’ Felix always says these things so casually, like he doesn’t know what it does to Killian - namely, his mouth gets dry, his heart starts pounding, and a powerful ripple of heat shocks through his body. Felix is carrying on like he doesn’t know or care, though. He’s looking across at Killian’s notebook - full to bursting with Felix’s wit and opinions. ‘I am rather astute, aren’t I,’ Felix muses aloud - more to himself than Killian, really.

‘You really are, Professor,’ Killian murmurs, awestruck. He’s noting down what Felix has said in a half-daze.

‘Is that blue ink, Killian?’ Felix asks sharply, and Killian’s face contorts very briefly into a frown.

‘It is. I’m sorry, I can’t find my black pen for the life of me.’

‘Blue ink is for degenerates,’ Felix sighs, fixing Killian with a particularly withering look. But we are degenerates. Killian bites back the reply, hoping Felix can’t make out the defiance in his eyes. ‘You’d best carry on with your marking,’ Felix says pointedly, and Killian understands. He’s been dismissed.

By the time Killian emerges from the office it’s gone ten and his brain is exhausted. He’s done just under half the essays - more thoroughly than he needed to, probably - only relenting when his eyes started losing focus. Killian knows he’s tired when it takes him five minutes to piece together one sentence from the sea of quoted Greek and tiny little numbers, and is grateful that he’s forced himself to stop. As he stands to head through to the kitchen, he’s faintly aware of his head spinning, of every bone in his body grumbling. But beneath that, there’s an uncomfortable tension - a pulling together of muscles, a rush of connection at each synapse. His mind might be tired, but his body is very much awake.

He lets his breath out in an angry little huff and decides to have a bath, hoping to soak out of his skin any intention of not falling straight to sleep. The coldness of the kitchen tile radiates through his socks, grounding him to the present despite the discomfort as he gets ready to soak. Pre-bath rituals complete with some green tea now steeping in his favourite mug, he heads to the bathroom. There’s a window by the bath that overlooks the capital, high up enough that Killian can bathe without accidentally causing indecent exposure. He loves looking down at the city while wrapped in silky bathwater, dreaming about the thousands of lives bustling in the streets below.

Killian’s so wrapped up in himself, taking his time getting the water temperature right before putting the plug in, finding his favourite lavender bubble bath, that he doesn’t notice Felix’s presence until the Professor knocks on the bathroom door. Killian nearly jumps out of his skin, dropping the lavender bottle in the bath in the process. ‘Oh, shit.’ He laments.

‘...Are you quite alright in there?’

‘Yeah,’ Killian responds as he hurries to unlock the door, wiping wet hands on his shirt. He turns away from Felix once the Professor’s been let in, immediately dropping to the floor to mop up the splashed water with the bath mat.‘Yeah, I was just gonna grab a bath, then I dropped the bottle in and the lid’s still on but the water went everywhere, so right now I just need to-‘

‘You’ve been very clumsy today, haven’t you, Killian?’ Felix interrupts. It’s not really a question. Killian’s frantic movements slow, stutter, then halt entirely. He knows the tone and he nods, still kneeling, eyes on the slowly filling bath. ‘First the coffee, now this.’ Killian holds his breath as Felix sits on the edge of the bath and - after a moment that feels eternal - tangles his hand in Killian’s hair. Felix’s hand settles there, fingers pressing comfortingly against Killian’s scalp, and he can’t help but whine and lean into the touch. ‘What are we going to do with you?’ Felix murmurs. Again, not really a question. Felix already knows exactly what he’s going to do. He just knows how to tease Killian, press his buttons, work him up with anticipation. ‘Shower, and then join me in bed.’ Felix decides. Killian can’t help but find the affectionate tone under the imperative (or at least, he believes it’s there, and that makes it true enough for him). ‘I have a surprise for you. Tonight is a special occasion, after all.’ Felix gives Killian’s hair a short, sharp tug - a nonverbal reminder to hurry up - and leaves.

Killian whines helplessly again, all thumbs as he reaches into the bath to drain the water, heart thudding exponentially faster while he contemplates what Felix could possibly have for him. He can’t help but ponder the implication - that Felix has remembered, that he wants to show Killian he cares. His knees weaken under him. Absolutely pathetic, he chastises himself. For the next ten minutes, he concentrates on meticulously cleaning himself. He wants to make himself as perfect as possible, a blank canvas for Felix to ruin as he pleases. An involuntary shiver ripples through his body. He loves knowing that Felix has been planning something. That he’s been sitting contemplating new ways to get inside Killian’s mind, under his skin, and touch the raw nerves that he finds there until Killian is almost driven mad with it. The fact that Killian is important enough for Felix to even spend time considering this… surprise, whatever it is, is perhaps the greatest gift of all.

Killian shuts the water off. The sudden silence makes him hyper-aware of his short, trembling breaths. He reaches towards the bathroom cabinet where he had carefully laid his cross after taking it off, but his hand falters. He’s aware of how ridiculous this sounds - how ridiculous Felix would find it - but he wants whatever’s going to happen to be between Felix and himself only. There’s some things that he’s allowed to keep secret, he thinks.

Wrapping himself in a fluffy towel, Killian steals softly across the kitchen floor to Felix’s bedroom. Light spills under the door, which is open ajar - but Killian still feels the need to knock. The space he and Felix share may well be as much his as Felix’s, but the Professor’s bedroom still feels strangely off-limits. Killian doesn’t go in alone. And even when Felix is in there, permission is required to enter.

‘Come in and close the door behind you,’ Killian hears from beyond the door, and follows suit immediately. It’s only once he’s heard the click of the door closing and they’re fully alone together that he looks over at the bed. Felix sits on top of the covers, reading. He puts the book down, takes his glasses off, and appraises Killian slowly. There are two items to his right; a familiar length of black rope, and an unfamiliar box - also black, understated and nondescript. Killian waits for Felix’s permission to sit, which is granted by a wave of the hand. He sits on the opposite corner of the bed to Felix, legs tucked under himself, determined not to wither under Felix’s gaze. ‘Well?’ Felix prompts. Killian is tongue-tied, and can only look helplessly at his Professor as his face reddens - embarrassed at not figuring out what Felix wanted quickly enough. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Felix asks softly, and the tension in Killian’s chest dissipates into something manageable.

‘Y-yes, of course. Sorry,’ he mumbles, inching closer to what he can now be sure is the surprise. He’s slightly taken aback by the weight of the box as he picks it up, and his breath catches in his throat as he lifts the lid to reveal its cargo.

It’s a wand. The head is soft black silicone, perfectly smooth and about the size of Killian’s fist - the body tapers down into a dial and cordless end. The light below the dial is green; it’s fully charged. Killian tries to swallow but his mouth is suddenly dry. He settles instead for an audibly shaky intake of breath before he looks up at Felix.

The smirk on Felix’s face is maddeningly attractive, the upturn of his lip a promise that he knows exactly what to do with Killian’s new toy. ‘Thank you,’ Killian breathes.

‘You haven’t even begun to thank me,’ Felix responds, quick as ever - Killian wishes he had his notebook, because that one was good. He feels heat melting in his abdomen, a dangerous current pulling down at the simultaneous promise-threat. ‘Tell me, have you ever used one of these before?’ Killian shakes his head silently, still in awe. It’s true that he’s never even touched a wand before, but Killian had seen one used on someone else - the unforgiving hardness pressed against writhing and desperate flesh. A flush delicately creeps his way up his neck and across the tips of his ears. ‘It seems as though you know what to expect, though,’ Felix continues, tone low and dangerous. ‘I was going to allow you to feel it on your hand first, but now I see no reason to delay ourselves any further.’

‘I-I think that’s wise, Professor,’ Killian stammers, so desperate to ingratiate himself to the man who now holds the instrument of Killian’s pleasure-torture.

‘Oh, you think it’s wise, do you?’ There it is - the low growl, almost imperceptible, giving away Felix’s quiet affront. ‘Come here, boy.’

Killian crawls across the bed and, when he’s close enough, resists the urge to fall to his knees at Felix’s feet in supplication. It’s wise to start begging for mercy now, while he still has most of his faculties. Felix cuts his train of thought short as he twists his hand into Killian’s hair, tugging sharply to lift Killian’s head. ‘I don’t need to know what you think, Killian. That’s not what I have you here for.’ The slap round the face Killian gets for his actions is almost gentle - there’s a stolen moment of a caress that Felix gives Killian’s cheek after his hand has made contact with it.

‘Yes, Professor.’ Felix pushes him away and instead reaches for the rope. There’s a moment of untethered panic Killian feels in his chest at the loss of contact which takes most of his energy to quell.

‘Take that towel off,’ Felix orders offhandedly. On shaky legs, Killian stands, and lets the towel fall on the carpet below. Out of the corner of his eye, Felix watches. The soft curve of Killian’s thighs is only magnified by the gentle dusting of hair along the contours of his body. There’s some that gathers on his chest, an expanse of pale skin disrupted by two pink scars. The surrounding skin there is so sensitive - Felix can drive Killian mad by just tracing his fingers up and down the incisions. Felix looks away as Killian moves to get back on the bed. ‘Don’t leave it on the floor,’ he says in a practiced exasperated tone. Killian bends to pick it up and Felix allows himself a rare smile of appreciation. The boy’s skin is still slightly damp from the shower - the way the light catches the beads of water is rather appealing. Felix has finished unraveling the rope by now. Killian sits cross-legged on the bed, awaiting direction. ‘Come here,’ Felix says softly, and Killian crawls towards him, presenting his wrists to be tied. He knows the score and order of things by now; Felix is nothing if not methodical.

But tonight, as Killian should have guessed, is different. Felix frowns. ‘No, turn around. Hands behind your back.’ Killian does so, and feels Felix tug at his hands, pulling his arms into an uncomfortable shape for a moment. He winces just as Felix lets go, and the relief from the discomfort makes the throbbing he feels between his legs whenever Felix touches him all the sweeter. ‘Put them together.’

‘What?’

‘Palms together. Like you’re praying.’

Killian struggles for a moment - Felix’s hands are gripped just above each of his elbows, holding his upper arms firmly in place as the young man flounders in his grip. He can sense the Professor becoming more impatient with each passing second he fails to do what is asked of him, and just as he hears the click of Felix’s tongue preparing to tut, his fingertips press together in a prayer-like pose. His little fingers jut uncomfortably between the base of his shoulder blades, and he gasps out when Felix removes his hands from his upper arms and forces his palms together.

‘There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?’

Killian is trying to summon the will to say that it was, actually, and if this is meant to be fun he has several complaints, when he feels the rope around his wrists. Ah, shit. He tries to see the bright side; at least he can relax his muscles a little when Felix is done. Felix is tying him meticulously, spending much longer than usual, and Killian bites his lip whenever he feels the rope tug tightly against his skin. Felix announces that he has finished the tie by pushing Killian face-down onto the bed. It takes Killian aback somewhat, and he is about to move reflexively when he feels Felix’s hand on the small of his back. The discomfort from the rope is still there, but the longer he lies there with his arms aching, the more the pain is accompanied by another sensation under his skin. Deeper, in his belly and between his legs, and warmer, the heat in him building steadily. Felix gives Killian’s arm a tug, and the rope bites deliciously when he does. Killian cries out softly.

‘Oh, bless.’

Felix’s voice is dripping with condescension. Two of his fingers trace up Killian’s thigh and begin to rub his t-dick lazily. Killian whines, pushing his hips back against Felix’s fingers. He can feel himself throbbing and hard under Felix’s touch already. When they’re out together, Felix need only brush his hand against the small of Killian’s back a handful of times before he’s desperate for him; Killian has felt this need since Felix told him to come to bed. He’s just been waiting for Felix’s sign that he ought to express it. So conditioned, like a good pet ought to be. Felix hums in approval when he sees the wetness dripping down towards Killian’s cock, where the Professor’s fingers still circle tightly.

‘This is why I can never get rid of you, darling boy. It would simply be too much effort to train someone else as thoroughly as I’ve trained you.’ Killian moans at that; a deep sound barely muffled by the pillow, and he feels another gush of wetness between his legs as his pussy flutters and tightens. ‘Oh dear. I do underestimate the effect that statements like that have on you, don’t I, dearest?’

Killian writhes, incoherent mumbles dropping from his mouth at the terms of endearment Felix is lavishing on him. The writhing sends pain shooting from his arms, still tightly bound behind him, but Killian relaxes into the discomfort. ‘I think you’re ready now,’ Felix murmurs, and Killian feels something pressing against his dick, soft but unyielding, curved, and his brain is still processing this new information when Felix turns it on.

The wand is soft at first, but the vibrations go deep, shaking Killian’s core as he eagerly pushes back against the instrument, grinding his pussy happily against the wand’s head. He feels the hand Felix had been touching him with on the back of his thigh, wiping it clean before settling it on the small of his back again.

‘Good boy,’ Felix mutters, and Killian tries to turn to look at him but finds the weight of his own shoulder keeping his face in the pillows. He has a sense of something - Felix’s voice, just for a moment, has dropped from the cadence and tone he uses to praise and into something else, something more calculating. But just as Killian begins to consider this train of thought, there is a click - and then two - as Felix turns the wand up and up again, and Killian bites down against the pillow as moans shudder through his body. The best way he can describe the wand’s sensation is insistent - it ripples through him continuously, and though Felix is shifting it around every so often there is not one moment where the feeling is dampened, not one second of respite from the feedback loop being created between Killian’s legs. Killian has stopped grinding against it because he doesn’t need to, but his hips have started stuttering of their own accord, jumping every so often and snapping back down against the toy.

He is dripping, the wetness collecting in a small pool between his knees on the duvet and serving to make the wand glide against him more easily. Felix has stopped moving it and is just holding it there, right underneath the head of his dick, so that with every involuntary movement of Killian’s body he is pressing the most sensitive part of himself against it. This causes him to flinch, which causes his arms to pull away from one another, which causes the ropes to dig harder into his skin, which causes Killian to whimper and his dick to throb, which means for a moment the wand is that much stronger against him.

‘You’re in quite the predicament, aren’t you. I’m amazed you haven’t come yet, dear.’

Twisting his head as far as he can, Killian grits out: ‘you haven’t - given me permission - Professor.’ The thought hasn’t even crossed his mind. He has learned control of his body, an extension of Felix’s command over him, and it comes so naturally to him now it is difficult to even consider breaking out of it.

‘Oh, of course. Such a good little thing, aren’t you? Go on, why don’t you come for me.’ Felix says it so offhandedly as he turns the toy’s intensity up once more, and Killian keens loudly. Just the act of receiving permission changes so much in an instant; he had been fighting, and now he relaxes into the way the vibrations rumble through him. Felix wants this, he thinks to himself. Felix wants me to make a mess of myself like the stupid little toy I am. He moans loudly, and Felix’s hand lifts from Killian’s back and twists into his hair. ‘I’m thinking of doing this to you more often, you know,’ the Professor mutters, and the feeling of his soft breath against Killian’s ear has his hips desperately grinding down against the toy again. ‘You’re so needy, it’d be far easier for me to force an orgasm out of you every so often to keep you at bay. So you can focus on your true purpose.’

Killian feels tears of gratitude gather at the corners of his eyes. The sensation is building in him now - he can feel it deep inside him, the desperate contracting of his pussy as more of his slick floods out of it, the sliding and shifting of his cock against the strong vibrations of the machine pressed unyielding against him. ‘That’s right,’ Felix coos, petting the back of Killian’s hair. ‘Really savour this one, darling. I understand the more of them I force you to have, the more unpleasant it is for you.’

With a surprised, choked gasp, Killian comes, his legs closing around the toy and frantically pushing it up against himself as his dick throbs and pulses. His pussy tightens, desperate for something to fill it as the orgasm rips through him. He is moaning into the pillow, thrusting down until his cock becomes too sensitive to bear it, at which point there is a groan followed by a long silence, and then higher, whimpering cries until Felix shuts the toy off.

He leaves it where it is pressed against Killian’s cock, though. As he slowly returns to Earth, Killian notes the burn in his shoulder muscles, waiting to feel Felix’s cool hands on the knots, to slowly untie him. But in his post-orgasmic state, Killian is completely pliant and does not struggle, let alone immediately process it, when Felix starts to wrap rope around his ankles. After several seconds utterly silent, Killian twists his head and asks, ‘what you doin’?’

Felix slaps the top of his thigh enough to sting. ‘What are you doing, Professor.’

‘S-sorry, Professor… what are you doing, Professor? What’d you mean about, uh… about forcing me to have… to have more…’

‘Well, it is a special occasion.’ Killian’s heart blooms in his chest. ‘I wanted you to have something to occupy you while I’m gone.’

The tie between Killian’s ankles is finished with a sharp tug, and the Professor moves onto something on his thighs. But Killian’s mind is singularly focused now, his heart floundering against his ribs, his face creased in a deep frown as he tries to figure out what the Professor could mean.

‘While… you’re gone, Professor?’

‘It’s my daughter’s birthday.’ Felix replies simply, before gripping Killian’s shoulder to turn him over, one hand holding the unfinished tie in place as he does so. Killian’s eyes blearily focus on Felix, whose attention is solely on the rope. Killian shakes his head.

‘N-no, it would’ve been in your diary… I would’ve seen…’

The Professor looks up at him at that.

‘That diary is for my work engagements, and personal engagements that happen to overlap with my academic ones. I only tell you what I need you to know, Killian, and I’m sure you’ll understand that I don’t need the assistance of a postgraduate barely out of his Master’s to remember my child’s birthday.’ Felix’s gaze is cool as he looks at Killian. Calm. He’s just stating facts, Killian reassures himself. This is what he’s like. Tears, again, at his eyes, but hotter this time. He can feel his face burning. Felix looks back down.

‘Her mother took her to dinner this year, but Yvette’s invited me to join her and her husband for drinks, hence the late hour. I’ve got no morning tutorials tomorrow; I doubt there would be any harm done.’ Killian nods. Felix didn’t have to volunteer that information, and it would have been no right of Killian’s to ask, but he wanted Killian to know. Felix is so thoughtful, even at times like this. But still…

‘Perhaps I could- you might need- in case you say anything noteworthy-’

Felix chuckles to himself. Killian hates when he does that. Like he’s too stupid to even be in on the joke. But there’s a reason, he reminds himself, always a reason.

‘You think my daughter would appreciate my turning up to her birthday celebrations with my pet whore?’

Killian lets out one shameful sob as his hips jump under Felix’s hands. Felix tuts. ‘Be still, boy. You’re meant to enjoy this.’

Killian cranes his neck up to see what Felix is actually doing. The tie is nearly finished; the toy is now held firmly against Killian’s cock by his own legs, pulled up to sit flush against him by ties that sit above his hips. He is trapped. ‘Felix, what-’

‘I had a look at those papers you marked before I came in to see you. The last handful are sloppy, Killian, and I couldn’t have you trying to mark any more when you’re clearly exhausted and in need of… something.’ Felix’s gaze drops pointedly to the wet spot on the duvet. ‘This will keep you busy, stop you from moping while I’m out and, most importantly, keep you from attempting to finish off the rest of those papers even more pitifully than before. Also,’ and it is at this point that Felix leans over him, and Killian can see how hard he is, his cock straining against his suit trousers, ‘I rather like the idea of you tied up like this, waiting for me to come home.’ He flicks the toy on again, and Killian whimpers.

‘But Felix-’ the older man gives him a sharp look, and Killian corrects himself, ‘Professor, won’t I be… what if it’s too much?’

‘It will run out of battery,’ the Professor responds airily, ‘eventually.’ He pulls at Killian’s shoulder again until the boy is laid on his side, and turns the toy up higher until Killian is gasping for breath, his sensitive cock pulsing already with the onslaught of sensation. Killian feels his muscles throb again as the Professor releases his grip on Killian’s shoulder. ‘Remember to keep wiggling your fingers, dear. I did make that quite tight.’

Killian opens his mouth to thank the Professor for his advice, thank him for going out of his way to do all this to save Killian from himself, to tell him to enjoy his night, but is cut off by the sound of a ringing phone from Felix’s jacket. Felix waves an impatient hand at Killian, having sensed he was going to speak, and picks it up.

‘Hello? Yes, darling, I’m almost there… traffic’s bloody awful, I’m afraid. Taxi driver’s absolutely not helping. He’s not getting a tip.’ He shares a laugh, Killian presumes, with his daughter, and he’d be pleased to see him so happy if it weren’t for the insistent buzzing between his legs, the pressure building before Felix has even left. Felix hangs up. ‘What was it you were going to say?’ Killian swallows.

‘How old is she?’

‘Yvette? She’s twenty-seven today, not that it’s any of your business.’

‘Of course, Professor. I’m sorry.’

Felix sighs.

‘You are pitiful, Killian.’ He turns the wand up one last time and goes to leave. ‘Have fun.’

Killian drops his head to the bed and starts to moan and shudder, relaxing once again into the sensation, trying to ignore the weight in his chest and the anxiety clawing at his stomach and the restless ache in his bound arms. Stopping in the door, Felix takes one look back at him, pale skin turned red and purple between the black ropes, body shifting and rippling under the onslaught, sighs, and turns off the light.

The bedroom door clicks shut, then the front door, the locks fall into place, and Killian is left alone with only the weak light of the toy between his legs to illuminate him.

He sobs his way through his next orgasm, which turns to screams as the toy doesn’t stop, the intensity felt so much more keenly in his tragic and post-orgasmic state. The boy has the decency to bite the pillow under his head as the toy rips them out of him, again and again, and all he can think of is Felix, and what the lesson here may be, and the fact that he’s four years younger than his daughter, that Felix is easily old enough to be his father, but that Felix has never remembered his birthday. When he thinks of this he comes hard and angry, tearing at the pillow with his teeth, and growling and sobbing until - mercifully - the fucking thing dies.

Killian cannot count the orgasms forced from him, but he can feel the number in his pelvic muscles, aching from the shuddering desperate motions he’d been making for hours. His arms and shoulders burn but he has run out of tears, so he sobs dry and resigned into the pillow until he falls into some kind of sleep.

The sleep is not restful; Killian only gets a few minutes at a time, sometimes half an hour, before he shifts unconsciously and sends a pain searing down his spine or his arms. Whenever he wakes, he tries to remember to wiggle his fingers. They’re tingly. He has just dropped off again when he’s woken by keys jingling, and his eyes light up. Felix is home. He hears footsteps crossing the threshold, but they’re heavy, heavier than Felix’s. Christ, he thinks, Felix has brought some musclebound twunk home. Killian lets out a sigh, waiting for the telltale click of Felix’s footsteps. The light clicks on, the front door closes. Still only one set of footsteps in the house, and if he strains his neck, Killian can make out a shadow under the door. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he turns to bite the pillow again to stay as silent as possible. Whimpers of fear are already rising in him, his sleep-deprived mind dragging forward nightmare scenarios to play with the panic.

The footsteps are getting closer. He screws his eyes shut. Tries to will himself out of existence. The door handle turns, and the door swings open. Orange bursts in front of his eyelids as the light switch clicks on, and Killian hears a sharp inhale and a long exhale. Hyperventilating, he scrambles to look; at some point in the night he fell forwards, and he struggles around on the bed to flip over and see this intruder. His thrashing around is useless, and soon he feels broad, warm hands lifting him onto his back. Killian squints up against the bright light, and is shocked to see that he… recognises this man. The man is physically imposing, tall and wide, with the weathered-muscle shoulders of someone past their physical prime but so set in himself that the structures of strength remain, stubborn against the greying stubble on the man’s jaw and the soft curve of his belly. His eyes are dark and glint down at Killian with menace, with glee.

It takes him a second to place, but no, this is-

‘Josef…’ Killian says. The bouncer at the fancy bar downtown where Felix tends to host his… parties. He turns a blind eye to a lot, provided Felix tips him generously at the end of each semester. ‘What are you doing in m- in Felix’s house? Why do you have the keys?’ His mind already begins to run through the infinite horrible possibilities - that the security guard, tired of his job, maybe, had snapped, assaulted Felix and had come here to find what valuables he could before fleeing the country. Maybe he was here to kidnap Killian. Maybe-

‘Felix sends his apologies,’ the man laughs, grinning down at Killian’s bound and aching body. ‘He was just about to head back to you when this kid walked in - exactly his type. Like you, y’know, but… kinda skinnier.’ He tilts his head. ‘Less tired-looking. Had to ID him and all. Anyway, the prof was fretting about you being here, all…’ he gestures to Killian’s predicament. ‘So I told him I’d come back here and take care of you. As a favour. He was very grateful.’ He smiles. Killian feels sick, and tries to concentrate on what Josef said - that Felix was worried about him. It warms his heart a little. But Josef still hasn’t taken his hands off him.

‘I refuse to believe he allowed this,’ Killian stammers, trying indignantly to struggle out of Josef’s grip. ‘He told me he’d be back. He told me he was coming home.’

‘Well, he told me to take his keys and get you out of this. Just in time, too. You’re looking pretty rough back there.’ Now that he mentions it, Killian has to admit that his arms are fucking killing him. Josef reaches into a drawer in the side table, and Killian thinks of protesting before he sees a familiar flash of silver. ‘Right where he said they’d be,’ he says to Killian, holding the safety scissors aloft. ‘Now do you believe me?’ Killian wavers still. ‘Look, you can say no if you want, but Felix looked pretty determined to fuck that guy.’

Killian imagines what this boy looks like. If he knows Felix, Killian doubts he’s over twenty. Probably exactly like him, a fresher wandering about and exploring, waiting for someone to take pity. His lip curls into a small sneer. Not exactly like him, though. Because Felix had said he was indispensable. That he could never get rid of him. He turns to Josef.

‘Then cut me free, please.’

Josef obliges, flipping Killian back over and making short work of the intricate ties binding Killian’s arms together. He hisses in pain as the movement and feeling return to his forearms, his wrists, his fingers, and he allows them to fall uselessly to his sides. Josef then turns his attention to the rope around Killian’s hips and between his legs, and pulls the toy out from between Killian’s thighs. Killian winces when he pulls it away, the head of his cock still so sensitive, the wand making a soft sound as it is pulled from the wetness between Killian’s legs. Last to go are the ties on his ankles. Killian shifts, intending to move, before noticing that Josef is still straddling him at the knees. The man’s body weight shifts up until he is astride Killian’s ass. Had he missed some rope? Killian flexes his arms; no, nothing still wrapped around him, no reason for him to…

He feels a rough hand caress his back. ‘It’s so close to the end of the semester, right… Felix said he thought I should take my own bonus tonight.’ Killian’s blood runs cold.

‘H…’ the sound dies on his tongue, his mouth suddenly dry. ‘He wouldn’t.’

‘But he did, darlin’.’ Killian feels something pressing against the crack of his ass, clad in jeans, rough against his soft skin. ‘Now, listen, I’ve helped you out here. Think I deserve a little something in return.’

Christ, Killian thinks, and his mind jumps to his cross - still where he left it on the bathroom shelf. He is alone in this place. And so he tries, really tries, to fight. But he’s so tired. He’s had less than an hour of sleep, his arms are useless, all pins and needles when he tries to force them to move, and he aches between his legs. He tries to kick Josef, bringing his heels up to catch the man in the back, but the bouncer catches his foot easily and twists it as Killian yelps.

‘Yeah, I thought so… see, I was thinkin’ about not lettin’ you out first first, then I took one look at you and knew, even untied, you’d be too weak to stop it from happening.’

Killian hears the sick metallic crunch of a zipper. Josef moves back between his legs, one strong hand on each of Killian’s thighs. And Killian feels himself leaning into the touch. Felix so rarely touches him like this. His hands always feel so dispassionate, but Josef’s…

No. No, this is wrong; Felix can’t have meant for Josef to do this. They’ve never talked about it. Killian shakes his head. ‘Stop.’ He mumbles.

Josef pushes his legs apart. Killian tenses in fear at the sensation of the fat head of Josef’s cock rubbing against his hole. ‘What’s that?’

‘Stop it.’

‘Ah, you’re all wet still… gotta thank Felix for gettin’ you ready like that. I can just slide right in.’

He does, and Killian lets out a choked cry. ‘Stop it,’ he tries to insist, wriggling pitifully, but the movement just makes Josef groan as he fills Killian’s pussy with his thick cock, forcing the boy’s legs apart farther to gaze down at the way the boy’s hole is swallowing him.

‘You know, fr’a boy who’s tryna tell me you don’t want it, you’re taking my cock awful well,’ he sneers, and Killian winces as the zipper brushes his cock with every thrust the man makes inside of him, but he doesn’t reply.

‘Aw, silent treatment, is it? Tha’s alright. Don’t need you to talk. Just need you to keep your legs open.’ His thrusts are rough and hard, and Killian’s body shifts and rocks with every movement. Killian’s head is turned to one side. He imagines it’s Felix fucking him like this. But Felix’s touches are so different; his hands are cool, smaller than Josef’s, and he rarely holds Killian down like Josef is. He’s usually pinching, scratching, slapping, pulling Killian’s hair; a constant onslaught of attack, physical and often verbal, always designed to make Killian arch his back in a more pleasing way, or take him deeper, or moan differently.

‘Felix…’ Killian whispers, eyes closed, pretending.

‘No,’ says Josef as he rolls his hips hard against the boy beneath him. ‘Don’t do that,’ he says between breaths. ‘Impolite.’ One of his hands moves from its place on Killian’s thigh, round to his front, groping and feeling for his dick. Killian tries to remain impassive, but can’t hide the way he jumps, gripping Josef’s cock tighter as his thumb presses down against the sensitive flesh. ‘You’re here.’ Josef mutters. He starts rubbing Killian’s cock in time with his thrusts. ‘Right here. With me.’ The man’s insistent toying with his cock combined with the rough thrusts into him begins to drag small moans and whimpers out of Killian. He whines helplessly every time Josef bottoms out inside him, a pathetic little mewl that he hates to admit sounds, ever so slightly, like he is enjoying this.

‘Yeah, fuck,’ Josef murmurs, and Killian thinks he’s talking to himself at first. ‘Said you’d be like this. Said it wouldn’t take you- long- to warm up to me.’

‘No he didn’t,’ Killian insists desperately, but Josef’s cock fills him so deeply for a moment that his last word is drawn into a whine. Josef laughs again. His laugh is crackly, a smoker’s chuckle, a laugh that Killian had come to appreciate over time. Not now, though. Not any more.

‘Yeah, he did. Talks to me ‘bout you. Tells me you’re a whore.’ Killian feels Josef’s elbow at the top of his spine as the man puts more of his weight onto him, leaving himself freer to thrust up harder into him. Every inch of the man’s dick ebbs and fuels the ache in Killian’s pussy at once, and his eyes squeeze shut as the man’s nicotine-laced breath tickles his earlobe. ‘Said he’s been thinkin’- ‘bout doing this - fr’a while. Whorin’ you out. Teachin’ you your place.’

Killian’s pussy spasms around Josef’s cock.

‘Like fucking clockwork.’

That’s what makes Killian lose it. How dare he? How dare he have the audacity to say these things, to assume he knows Killian, knows him like Felix does? He twists and wriggles, and the burst of adrenaline combined with the surprise of it allows him to struggle off Josef’s cock and up the bed slightly. There is a silence from behind him, before Josef grabs his hair and pulls his head upwards. Killian yelps in fear. Jesus, did he really think this would be enough?

‘Oh, you stupid bitch.’ Josef throws him back down on the bed, hard enough to make the frame shudder. Breathing heavily, he pushes Killian’s legs further apart.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Killian stammers.

‘Shut it. Need an incentive to keep still? I’ll give you a fucking incentive.’ Josef positions his cock, still dripping with Killian’s wetness, at Killian’s asshole. ‘Whore. Felix said you didn’t have it in you to fight. That you’d agree to it soon as I told you he allowed it. Didn’t say anything about having to teach you a fucking lesson.’

Killian begins to shake his head frantically. It’s rare that Felix fucks his ass, and Killian secretly relishes it because it’s one of the only times Felix really is careful with him. ‘Please don’t. It won’t go in. It won’t, I’m not ready, I don’t know where the lube is.’

‘Keep your fucking mouth shut, boy,’ Josef says, twisting his hand in Killian’s hair tighter as he grunts and pushes the slick head of his cock against Killian’s ass again. He’s pushing and pushing, and Killian is still, breathing fast like a frightened animal. Josef has his elbow screwed against Killian’s spine. There is no escaping it. He just has to wait until Josef realises he can’t fuck him like this. But Josef is still pushing, holding his cock with his free hand, forcing and forcing against the first tight ring of muscle until-

Killian howls in pain. He feels something give, and Josef’s cock, thick enough to have made his pussy feel stretched, sore, bruised, slides into his ass. Josef shoves Killian’s face down into the pillow, forearm on the back of his neck as Killian screams and sobs at the feeling, so alien, tearing through him. His arms are still weak but they are flailing in an attempt to grip onto anything as some kind of tether. He finds the bedpost and grips for dear life. Josef settles himself inside Killian and just as the pain starts to ebb away, Josef begins to move.

It does not feel like Killian remembered it. Josef is so big, and the slow burn of the stretch and endorphins from the pain are morphing into some kind of pleasurable haze, with the punctuation of a loud, low groan from the man on top of him. Josef lets himself fall onto Killian, keeping him still through the weight of muscle and flesh alone, as his cock pumps in and out of him. His stubble scratches Killian’s back. Killian is somewhat aware that he is still crying.

‘Shh, don’t cry,’ Josef mutters, and Killian lets out a moan-whimper at the sensation of Josef’s cock filling and stretching him completely once again. ‘Fuck, so tight. So good. See, you are good, aren’t you. You know how to be good.’

‘Mm-hmm,’ Killian whines.

‘Felix knows what’s best for you, see,’ Josef mutters, and Killian can smell the whiskey on his breath now he’s so close. ‘Wouldn’t’ve sent me here if he din’t know there was somethin’ I could give you.’

His hand slides beneath Killian’s body again, and Killian allows it.

‘Yeah, tha’s it. G’na make you come, baby boy,’ and Killian cringes at the pet name even as his cock twitches under Josef’s fingers. ‘G’na make you come before I fill you up.’

Panic sets in again.

‘Please don’t come in me,’ Killian whispers, ‘please, Felix will be angry.’

‘Shh, shh,’ Josef mutters. He is moving slower than when he was fucking Killian’s pussy, but there’s more weight behind his thrusts, and Killian feels each one ripple through him. There is some deep satisfaction in the way Josef’s cock stretches him open. Killian thinks about how he will look in the morning, hole puffy and abused, dripping with another man’s cum. He hates the sick thrill it gives him to know that Felix will see that. It runs down the back of his neck like a hot knife, and he doesn’t know if the sensation is driven by arousal or fear.

‘I’m gonna come in you, pretty boy.’ His rough fingers rub side-to-side over Killian’s throbbing cock. ‘Gonna fill you up like a whore. Felix must’ve known I’d do that to you. And he knows what you need, don’t he?’

Killian nods. He can’t not.

‘You just lie there n’take it, pretty whore. Take it for Felix.’

Killian allows himself, for a moment, to really think about Felix’s responsibility in all this. He thinks about how, yes, Felix has known Josef for a very long time and, yes, is probably able to make some fairly astute guesses as to what Josef might do to whatever poor thing he was burying himself in. And Felix has decided he needs this.

‘I need this,’ Killian murmurs to himself as Josef thrusts into him. ‘I need this.’ It becomes louder, and Josef nods.

‘Tha’s it. Good boy,’ he mutters approvingly, still stroking Killian’s cock.

‘Need to be good for him,’ says Killian, pressing his hips down into Josef’s hand. The feeling of Josef stretching and fucking his ass open is mixing with the sparks of pleasure Killian feels when Josef’s fingers brush his cock. Mouth open, Killian is panting, arching his back to meet Josef’s thrusts, letting the man rub his cock until he is moaning underneath him.

‘Faster,’ Killian pleads. ‘Harder.’ He’s not even sure what he’s asking for but Josef picks the pace of his thrusts up. Their skin slaps together as Josef grunts in exertion, burying himself in Killian’s ass over and over, forcing the boy’s tight hole open around him. Josef shifts his hand, sliding his fingers into Killian’s wet pussy and pressing the base of his callused palm against Killian’s cock. His movements are imprecise but consistent, his rough hand dragging over Killian’s dick as his thick fingers rub insistently at Killian’s g-spot. Killian can feel himself trapped, Josef’s fingers crowding into his pussy, Josef’s cock pounding into his hole, and all that weight pressed down to force Killian to grind his desperate cock against Josef’s open hand. Killian feels his muscles starting to tense erratically. His pussy clenches around Josef’s fingers.

He needs this.

‘I need you to come in me,’ Killian whimpers.

‘Not till you do first, baby boy.’

Killian thinks of how proud Felix will be of him when he finds out how well he took Josef’s cock, and comes all over Josef’s hand with a shuddering cry. His cock spasms and pulses, he feels his pussy and ass tighten desperately and spasmodically, and he hears Josef groan behind him as that - apparently - is what has pushed him over the edge. Killian feels his ass fill with cum, warm and thick, deep inside him.

Killian muses that he and Felix have never come at the same time as Josef collapses onto him.

He is dimly aware, some time later, of the man pulling out and getting off him, walking away and running the shower in the bathroom. His eyelids are heavy, and he knows sleep is about to take him. Killian smiles softly, thinking about Felix coming home the next morning. Maybe he’ll bring breakfast from the pastry shop they stop at sometimes. He’ll forgive Killian, he’s sure.

‘One minute,’ Felix says to the impressionable young gentleman with whom he’s spent the night and sunrise. ‘I just have to take care of something in the apartment.’ Leaving the boy in the hall, he steps into his home. It reeks of sex. The bedroom door is open, as are some of the kitchen cupboards. Josef had made his way here, he notes with a smile. Peering around the bedroom door, he sees Killian fast asleep, naked, ass in the air, cum dripping down his leg. He frowns. He didn’t recall giving Josef permission to do that. Well, Killian should have known better than to just allow him. They’ll be having words later, Felix imagines. He tears a sheet of notepaper out of one of Killian’s books - there are a few lines of uninspiring poetry tarnishing the page, so he draws a line through them and writes a note below. The black biro block capitals read: ‘Out for breakfast. Lunch seminar as per usual. Do try to turn up somewhat presentably. Professor.’

Replacing the pen in his blazer pocket, Felix grabs his umbrella from the coat rack - the weather is pitiful today - and slips back out of the front door to his young friend. ‘Thank you for waiting, dear boy,’ he murmurs. The boy grins at him. His teeth are crooked. Felix internally sighs.

Killian’s alarm rings at seven. It takes him longer to wake up, as it’s slightly muted through the bedroom wall. But when he does, he wakes aching and alone, eyes blurred and burning with sleep, and cold, so cold, from the mountain air.

#my work #10k #felix and killian

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