#my brat summer has come to an end it is now rise and fall of a Midwest princess autumn.

[looses-gooses]

Here’s that drawing I was talking abt btw. I also did the rest of her albums too under the cut. I’m particularly fond of crash.

[iamapoopmuffin]

Powerpuff Girls episodes explained badly

Monkey See, Doggy Do: Everyone is a dog and/or naked.

Mommy Fearest: The girls try to turn some lady they just met into their step-mother and regret it immediately.

Insect Inside: Bugs are gross. Or are they?

Powerpuff Bluff: Cosplay for crime reasons. And to look cute.

Octi Evil: Bubbles trusts in her plush toy when it suddenly starts talking to her like one of those imaginary friends that tells you to burn things. It goes as well as you'd expect.

Geshundfight: There's too many people on this earth, we need a new plague.

Buttercrush: 1 1/2 year old develops crush on 17 year old who uses her crush to manipulate the shit out of her.

Fuzzy Logic: You don't touch another man's banjo. Ever.

Boogie Frights: An endless disco party ends in Bubbles turning off her targeting computer and blowing up the Death Disco Star

Abracadaver: Zombie magician comes to town and does zombie magician stuff.

Telephonies: Crank calls lead to the one moment in the entire cartoon my family constantly quotes, literally any time anyone says 'him' in any context. Also we learn how HIM stays so fit!

Tough Love: HIM farts on the entire city and it makes everyone hate the Powerpuff Girls.

Major Competition: Pretty much the exact kind of thing I'd expect Jeff Bennett to voice comes to town, kicks a puppy and gets praised.

Mr. Mojo's Rising: Mojo reveals he is both the Professor's former pet and the technical other parent of the Powerpuff Girls.

Paste Makes Waste: Be careful who you bully in kindergarten because they might eat a radioactive fly and become giant glue monsters.

Ice Sore: It's a hot summer's day and gee whiz, Blossom sure blows!

Bubblevicious: Bubbles is hardcore.

The Bare Facts: Your typical 'no-one's account is fully accurate as they piece together the story' story, but with crayon drawlings and a naked old dude.

Cat Man Do: Evil cat possesses the professor and does evil cat things.

Impeach Fuzz: Fuzzy becomes the perfect mayor. Crime is down 100%, the Powerpuff Girls now get called to catch pigs.

Just Another Manic Mojo: Mojo Jojo's morning routine ft. annoying children.

Mime For A Change: Clown steps into oncoming traffic, gets covered in bleach, causes an environmental disaster and ruins everything.

The Rowdyruff Boys: Rule 63 the episode.

Uh Oh Dynamo: Kaiju vs murder robot. The city loses.

Stuck Up, Up And Away: Spoiled brat tries to buy superpowers, like Batman.

Schoolhouse Rocked: Teenagers who were abandoned in a dump before ever going to school meet a truant officer who becomes the first person to ever care about them, then go to school and get expelled on the very first day.

Collect Her: This is you, you obsessed freaks.

Supper Villain: Man gets sick of pancakes for breakfast and lives out secret supervillain fantasies. (Second most quoted line of the show in my family is here.)

Birthday Bash: Happy birthday, here's some death. Also why the hell is a 5 year old girl in a prison where every single other inmate is a grown man?

Too Pooped To Puff: When completely exhausted from their constant hero work, the girls tell the city to put a toaster in a bathtub full of water.

Beat Your Greens: These kids are so reluctant to eat the only good green vegetable that vegetable aliens arrive to teach them to stop being pussies.

Down n' Dirty: Buttercup refuses to bathe and it's fucking disgusting.

Dream Scheme: In The Sand Man you play as Sophie Grundler, a girl suffering from insomnia. Exhausted and unable to sleep, Sophie wanders into town to discover everyone else has fallen into an eternal sleep. Wait, wrong sand man-

You Snooze You Lose: Mojo falls asleep, loses some schematics and goes completely batshit insane. Then the girls eat gum that was in Junior's mouth earlier. Then probably get sick from Amoeba Boys germs again.

Slave The Day: Billy, who we thought was dead, pledges allegiance to the girls and Blossom yells at him.

Los Dos Mojos: Bubbles is Mojo now. But twice as hardcore.

A Very Special Blossom: Blossom turns to a life of crime.

Daylight Savings: Actual consequences to these small children having to go out at all hours to fight crime.

Mo Job: Mojo and Princess build a gun and shoot children with it.

Pet Feud: The Professor genetically engineers a neopet that eats everything.

Imaginary Fiend: A child's imagination is a dangerous weapon. And may tell the child to set the school on fire.

Cootie Gras: A kid who never bathes decides to play kiss chase. When that grosses people out, he gets used as a dangerous weapon.

The Powerpuff Girls Best Rainy Day Adventure Ever: The Powerpuff Girls play The Powerpuff Girls.

Just Desserts: Man's supervillain fantasy is adopted by his entire family.

Twisted Sister: The girls create a new sister who is severely disabled and then promptly dies.

Cover Up: Security Blankie the episode

Speed Demon: Back To The Future but scarier.

Mojo Jonesin': Mojo deals crack to toddlers

Something's A Ms.: Sedusa has sex with the Mayor so she can steal shit.

Slumbering With The Enemy: Mojo goes on RuPaul's Drag Race and infiltrates a child's sleepover.

Fallen Arches: Old People Fight Club!

The Mane Event: Blossom gets a new haircut and gets bullied. I like her hair like that though.

Town And Out: The Utoniums move to a new town with real world consequences for senseless property damage.

Child Fearing: Mojo babysits and regrets every decision that led him to that moment in life.

Criss Cross Crisis: Mandatory body swap story from hell.

Bubblevision: Bubbles has sudden sight loss issues and gets ripped to shreds for it. Also there are ants.

Bought And Scold: Princess' dad buys the city and she legalises everything, then gets robbed.

Gettin' Twiggy With It: Neglected trailer park kid abuses a hamster.

Cop Out: American Police officer attempts to kill three children. Nobody is surprised.

Three Girls And A Monster: Well, they aren't adopting it, but they aren't murdering it either.

Monkey See, Doggy Two: Everyone's a dog again except the girls, so they can beat the shit out of things still.

Jewel Of The Aisle: Cereal mascot tries to rob diamond.

Super Zeroes: Cosplay 2 electric boogaloo. Also who the hell trusted Blossom with a car?

Candy Is Dandy: What happens when you introduce sugar to children who aren't allowed sugar.

Catastrophe: Don't shove cats up your arse.

Hot Air Buffoon: The Mayor goes into the sky and punches people.

Ploys R' Us: The Professor sleep steals and the girls profit from it.

The Headsucker's Moxy: BRAINS BRAINS IT'S ALRIGHT, I'LL EAT THEIR BRAINS TIL THEY'RE ZOMBIFIED

Equal Fights: The Powerpuff Girls get brainwashed by a TERF.

Powerprof.: Embarrassing dad becomes superhero just to spend time with embarrassed children.

Moral Decay: Buttercup steals teeth and sells them on the black market.

Meet The Beat Alls: Mojo, Fuzzy, Princess and HIM form a band and live in a yellow submarine.

Him Diddle Riddle: HIM canonically has the power to end the entire world with a flick of his wrist but instead spends his time making the girls solve riddles to inconvenience them for shits, giggles and not having customers Karen their way out of paying for flapjacks.

Film Flam: Fake director tries to take advantage of impressionable young girls and it takes their dad in drag to stop him.

All Chalked Up: Butterfly HIM teaches Bubbles art therapy and then brings the therapy to life.

Get Back Jojo: Back To The Future again

Members Only: Big manly men have their masculinity threatened by little girls, then a giant dick joke from space voiced by Mr Krabs kills everyone.

Nano Of The North: Tiny robots eat your clothes

Stray Bullet: Squirrel with huge nuts becomes super squirrel after small child force feeds him chemicals

Forced Kin: Mojo has beef with some shiny silver dude

Knock It Off: Dexter's estranged uncle or something comes to town, makes a shittonne of artificial children to sell for profit and many of the children die.

Helter Shelter: Bubbles kidnaps a baby whale

Power Lunch: Teenagers with terrible diet have stomach issues.

Superfriends: New kid in town falls victim to peer pressure.

Keen On Keane: Girls, seriously, have you not learned your lesson about setting your dad up on dates with random women yet?

Not So Awesome Blossom: Blossom has an anxiety attack and loses all self confidence.

Power-Noia: The girls eat cheese before bed and have weird nightmares.

Monstra-City: Segregation is right.

Shut The Pup Up: The girls consider beating a dog to death.

Toast Of The Town: Babysitting an old guy who wants toast.

Divide And Conquer: A glorified maths lesson featuring amoebas.

Burglar Alarmed: The girls try to silently deal with a burglar because daddy is tired.

Shotgun Wedding: Fuzzy tries to marry Professor Utonium, then has sex with a pile of mud.

Save Mojo: Vegans ruin everything.

Substitute Creature: Ms Keane is sick and the girls learn they're racist against green people.

The Boys Are Back In Town: Oh yeah rule 63 is back and spikier.

Pee Pee G's: Mojo breaks into the girls' house and pisses on their bed. He faces absolutely no consequences for this.

Boy Toys: Boys don't like girls, boys like cars and weapons.

Seed No Evil: Frozen caveman steals sunflower seeds. This one feels like a really shit fever dream.

City Of Clipsville: The show runners take the absolute piss out of every fanfic writer in the fandom.

Lying Around The House: A lie gains sentience and fucks shit up.

Bubble Boy: Bubbles steals Boomer's clothes, identity and family.

A Documentary: Guy stalks children and tries to record videos of them.

Girls Gone Mild: Karens ruin everything. Again.

See Me, Feel Me, Gnomey: Jack Black a gnome creates communism through the power of music

Curses: The girls learn how to swear.

Bang For Your Buck: Kids compete in a life or death struggle to earn enough money for ice cream.

Silent Treatment: Silent movie kidnaps man and steals his voice.

Sweet 'n' Sour: Plushies rob entire city and get away with it because they're cute. Also they hate children.

Prime Mates: Brainless monkey ruins everything. Just like Twitter.

Coupe D'Etat: Sentient car is a homewrecker.

Makes Zen To Me: Buttercup joins a peace cult.

Say Uncle: The girls adopt a sasquatch and Utonium does not recognise his own brother.

Reeking Havoc: How do you fight a giant fart? Asking for a friend.

Live & Let Dynamo: Kaiju Robot is back and is committing crimes for fun.

Mo' Linguish: Mojo teaches a class at an adult education centre. Sadly it is not street dancing for self defence.

Oops, I Did It Again: Normal little girl AU

A Made Up Story: In which makeup is evil

Little Miss Interprets: Bubbles ruins a surprise party

Night Mayor: Another weird cheese dream but this time it's the Mayor dreaming about having relations with pickles

Custody Battle: HIM and Mojo have a messy custody battle in the middle of Townsville and both lose.

City Of Nutsville: Bubbles swallows a bee and squirrels kill everyone.

Aspirations: Sedusa takes advantage of a group of teenagers who have been abandoned by their mothers and also never gotten laid while also turning them into criminal masterminds.

That's Not My Baby: The girls find an abandoned baby and decide caring for it will convince their dad they're ready for a hamster

Simian Says: Mojo takes over the show

Sun Scream: PSA: Wear sunscreen.

City Of Frownsville: Man with terrible depression develops machine that cures his depression by giving it to everyone else

West In Pieces: Back To The Future 3, the wild west one

Crazy Mixed Up Puffs: Oh god they've fused

Mizzen In Action: Pirates of the Caribbean but less interesting

Roughing It Up: The Professor takes his kids on a camping trip and becomes rival dads with Fuzzy

What's The Big Idea?: The girls are made giant and it's a whole mess.

Nuthin' Special: Buttercup has no unique abilities. Any she had before are no longer unique.

Neighbour Hood: Children's TV show demands money.

I See A Funny Cartoon In Your Future: Gypsy and goose steal things along to a terrible rhyming narration.

Octi-Gone: Bubbles holds a fancy dinner party hostage to solve the mystery of the murder of her plushie, the one that told her to burn things.

[jackalsinthekitchen]

pop report #8 (today's top hits, 9/24/24)

today's top twenty – short n' salty

A whole Brat Summer has come and gone since we last left off. I tumbled belatedly down Charli’s rabbit hole in January, when I was looking for something to flatter a high, and she ended up blowing my world apart. I’d slept on her a decade ago, when she was both sugar and spice – everything nice, really – in hits which have aged varying degrees of well. Yet her 2015 union with PC Music was what put the form to her urge to soundscape – unlike the DMT-addled Todd Rundgren of fifty years ago, of whom she’s a fan, she’s nothing if not collaborative. When I first played brat, besotted as any sane person would be by the effervescent “360”, I found its music too metallic and its melodies overly astringent. Mea culpa – now no less an authority than our next president [knock, knock] has validated her cultural primacy.

So you won’t catch me complaining anymore – it couldn’t have happened to a more visionary icon. But of course, the year belongs to neither Charli, nor the victor in the battle of the quarter-century (not talking about Beyoncé v. Swift, who I think it’s safe to say overdid themselves into a draw this time out). Armed with little more than a wand, a rabbit, and a kabuki-meets-Cyndi Lauper aesthetic, the Midwest Princess finally completed her year-long rise this fall. Meanwhile, in Chappell’s shadow, the Last Straight Femme has put a bow on a fascinating saga that kicked off with “Drivers License”, while Olivia takes sour selfies abroad. And the season of the sticks is long over, with the cabal of bros who once threatened to turn 2024 into the Year of the Dude proving one-hit wonders – or if not one, at least a lot less than F-1 trillion.

But the bro atop half of Today’s Top Hit, Bruno Mars, is a different breed altogether – like his duet partner, one L. Gaga, a star so massive he’s transcended this plane, if not the material world. The languidly soulful waltz “Die with a Smile” sounds to me like an AI dream about “Beautiful Things” being less annoying, and as with everything else America can’t stop listening to (including “Beautiful Things”), someday soon I’m sure I��ll love it. But it still turns on vocals which grind into sincerity, yielding more sawdust than sparks, and presumably won’t unite a wedding dancefloor like “Uptown Funk” or “Bad Romance” ages from now. I suppose each artist thought they had to remind us that they were alive, and forgive my cynicism that the song is doing so well on branding power alone (well, and maybe those outfits).

Tate McRae is another one who feels greedier for the public than vice versa, but it’s ok – “It’s ok I’m ok” is a bit more than OK, the rapid-fire rap hook and sudden wash of synth atmospherics disrupting its relative self-repetition. It's another one that promises to grow over a slow fade; I’d say pop hits are fading slower than ever, but really, it’s always been this way. It does boast some brevity, said to be the soul of something in limited currency – its brisk two and a half minutes feel closer to 75 seconds. Lasting as long is #3, a single about lingering, Short n’ Sweet (ha)’s attention-seizing opener “Taste”. Whereas Olivia’s overtures to authenticity made her so compelling, Sabrina leans into the prefab, and it’s fab every time, fam. Its throwback feel is one of its chiefest virtues – it’s a dead ringer for the Divinvyls, and who doesn't dig the Divinyvls?

The fun of Chappell Roan is which of her big hits you can’t escape at any given moment – only “Pink Pony Club”, which is basically a standard now, is falling behind the rest of the pack. #4 on today’s TTH is “Good Luck, Babe”, its chorus such a pristine flourish of frosting it’s always good for getting through, coming out or kissing off. It’s the first in a trio of queer victories down the list, followed by Charli’s zero-melody banger “Guess”, feat. Billie E, whose subsequently-slotted “Birds of a Feather” is to “we can’t be friends” (#21) as Sour is to Short n’ Sweet. Here’s a girl who writes like she earned both her Oscars. This sapphic streak goes up in flames with the Weeknd, a painfully-straight whose strongest hits sound super gay anyway. After The Idol, the flames are all he can dance in.

#s 8-12 are five stalwart inescapables – that me espresso, H-O-T-T-O-G-O, J.J. Abrams’ nepo baby keenly cornering the “wounded submissive with an acoustic guitar” half of the Taylor Swift market (her vocals softening Olivia’s bratty diction with Billie’s volume control – “I Love You, I’m Sorry”, not as good as “Risk” but still good), Hozier cornering the Adam Levine market (it’s not my aphrodisiac, but the sky still splits open at that wailing instrumental break), errybody in the bahr gittin’ tyup-seh. Then the crisp, honeyed “Apple”, one of a handful of excellent hooks (not to mention lyrics) I missed like a dumb bitch when I was being a brat about brat. Benson Boone’s “Slow it Down” (no one asked you to, BB) sounds extra hoary directly after – though yet again, he builds up to something more worth your while than you expect from the first minute.

Depending on how you look at it, no two bros need more or less help than Post Malone and Morgan Wallen. But for their stab at the song of the summer – per Billboard, it worked – six additional bros lent a hand (though, credit where due, one of them is named Ashley). “I Had Some Help” is solid, and as with all decent-plus generic pop hits gets better or worse depending on the weather in your town or head. Still, the main takeaway is that both men would love to be Sabrina Carpenter, if not Chappell Roan. Next in line is the only member of the Tortured Poets’ Department that doesn’t sound asleep, "I Can Do it With a Broken Heart", a missile aimed directly under Joe Alwyn’s skin – the same summer the latter decided it would be a canny career move to play a rapist in Yorgos Lanthimos’ hasty surrender of his newly-acquired feminist cred.

After Tommy “Temporarily” Richman’s programmatic percolator “Million Dollar Baby” – his album will be called Coyote, though he might’ve just as easily gone with I, Robot – comes a new one for the stomp-clappers Noah Kahan pulled out of the woodwork: Myles Smith’s “Stargazing”. Anyone who’s ever wondered what Chris Martin would sound like fronting Mumford & Sons will be free to turn their attention elsewhere. Then there’s an arresting little club-designed mystery I haven’t heard before – “Move”, by two white guys (Adam Port and Stryv) and a Black vocalist (Malachiii) gently cashing in on a bourgeoning Afrobeats bubble (on this hemisphere, anyway – it’s an embarrassment of riches on the other). It’s a big hit in Belgium, Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Austria – shades of ABBA, who never crossed the color line in their lives.

I’d call #20 the secret song of the summer – while many of us are feeling hot to go and so Julia, there are still plenty of shitty vibes to go around, not to mention shitty men (this writer included). Justice doesn’t get more poetic than “Please Please Please” hitting the top in a surging crop of penis-pop. While Sabrina’s triumphs are often trifles, “Please” nails an almost unprecedented level of sexual-politics profundity without a speck of strain or waste (I’d be shocked if it featured more than three instruments). Sure, Olivia’s righteous rage always hits like a tonic, but something about Carpenter’s straight-to-the-point disappointment feels a great deal more potent. Imagine if Lesley Gore, not to mention Aretha Franklin, had had “I beg you, don’t embarrass me motherfucker” at their disposal. Even then, neither would’ve delivered that last word with the same score-settling perfection. Morgan Wallen and Post Malone will always have some help. 2024’s pop queens don’t need any.

[teklarn]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓅𝓉. 𝟥)

character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader (x eijirou kirishima) 

a/n: ok but like ty for all the notes on my last post??? i get so excited whenever there’s a new notification. ALSO, the best time for me to accept requests is from now to sept. 5! i’m currently on summer break, so i will have plenty of time to write from now until then. 

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!!

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: angst

warnings: mutual pining, cursing, aged-up to third years, bit of a love triangle, romantic tension, one-sided pining, i gave the reader a quirk, kirishima gets jealous EHWJEH

word count: 2031

lol wow things are finally beginning to pick up heehee

please excuse any typos! i edit to the best of my abilities, but it’s easy to miss lost of things 

part 1, part 2 , part 4 

- - - 

you dabbed bakugou’s nose. he winced as you tapped it. “sorry,” you breathed out, switching the tissue in your hand for a clean wipe. 

“i’m fine, dumbass.” 

“then why’d you ask for my help?” you teased, wiping at the blood on his upper lip. 

his cheeks dusted with red, eyes averting to the side. you smiled softly, victorious in his silence. 

nighttime was settling in nicely, the sun bleeding orange into the clouds. 

“look back at me,” you said. gently, you took his bruised jaw in your fingers, adjusting his head so he was facing you. you brushed your fingers along his swelling cheekbone. purple blossomed beneath bakugou’s pale skin. “kirishima was pretty rough out there, huh?’ 

“i’m proud of the guy.” 

you smiled, tilting your head. “you? proud of someone? really?” 

he chuckled. “knock it off, dumbass.” a grin spread across his face, however it was gone when the pain hit. he winced, trying to ignore the sting his smile brought with it. 

you let out a laugh. “just relax, bakugou.” you resumed dabbing away at the excess blood on his face. there were flecks of dirt scattered over his forehead. 

he caught your wrist in one of his soft, large hands. 

your smile faded, and you swallowed, pushing down the rising emotions fluttering into your chest. “yes?” you responded to the silent question his eyes were asking. 

his grip on your wrist loosened, and he let go, letting his arm fall back to his side. 

“everything okay?” 

he didn’t break eye contact as he grunted a reply. “mhm.” 

“alright. i’ll be right back, okay?” 

“‘kay,” he said. 

you stood with a groan, knees sore from all the training you’d been doing lately. you gently shut the bathroom door behind you and rinsed the bits of dirt off the towel, scrubbing away any imperfections stuck between the fibers of the fabric. 

your cheeks were boiling with heat as the ghost of his touch on your wrist lingered. what was that? did he mean to tell you something? 

you wrung out the newly washed cloth and returned to your seat across from bakugou. 

bakugou’s eyes flickered as you began scrubbing the dirk from his forehead. 

“ah,” he gasped out. 

“you’ve gotta stop wincing, bakugou,” you teased. “you’re making me think i’m doing something wrong.” 

“you’ve gotta stop being so rough, y/n.” he took your wrists and pried them away from his face. 

you set the towel down on the table, letting it rest on a paper towel so the excess water could drain out. 

“well, i think the issue is that you haven’t let me set your nose properly.” 

bakugou squinted, unsure. “alright.” he spread his legs, leaning forwards to make your job easier. “do as you wish, y/n.” his voice dropped, eyelids lowering seductively. 

the heat returned to your cheeks, flushing out your confidence from before. instead of replying with an equally snarky comment, you took his face in your hands. “this is going to hurt.” 

“not so much if it’s you.” 

you scoffed. “are you flirting with me, katsuki bakugou?” 

his lips quirked up—just a tiny bit. “stop dreaming, y/n.” 

you ignored the comment and traced your fingers over the bridge of his nose. “on three?” 

he nodded. 

“one—” you cracked the bone into place. 

“ah, shit!” bakugou recoiled back, covering his nose with his hands. “damn brat.” 

“it would have hurt more if you knew it was coming.” you shrugged innocently. 

“at least i would have been prepared.” 

“whatever you say.” you gestured for him to come back to his previous position, and bakugou did as instructed, hands dropping from his face as your hands came back around to cup his cheeks. 

being recovery girl’s grandchild had its benefits. for example, an easy way to get into yuuei off of recommendations. while your quirk wasn’t usually one people would associate with fighting, it came with unexpected pros with how it developed. 

you’d earned the ability not only to heal but to ruin as well. using your quirk, honing it properly, you could twist someone inside out with ease, however, healing was something you were more skilled with. 

a green glow was being emitted from your palms, white orbs flowing into the air and landing on bakugou’s skin. you could tell, under his skin, the bone was fixing itself, beginning to reshape into the flat bridge. 

bakugou sniffed. 

“hold still,” you said. 

“does your healing always make your patients itchy?” 

“it’s just your body healing. stop moving.” the green light receded into your palms. 

you met bakugou’s eyes as you pulled your hands away. you were leaning closer than necessary, out of your seat, knees slightly bent. you could tell his hands were shaking just a bit as they trailed down your arms, starting from your fingertips which were still hovering around his face. 

his hands found their way to your waist. bakugou tugged you closer. barely an inch closer, but it felt like the two of you were inseparable at the moment. 

“y/n?” 

you jumped, and bakugou’s hands fell back to the sides of the seat he was in. you swallowed as kirishima popped up at the doorway. 

you wiped your palms on your shirt, nodding for kirishima to enter. “yes?” 

the redhead walked in warily, hands up and pace slow. “i hope i’m not...interrupting anything. am i?” 

you shook your head. “not at all. we were, um. we were just finishing up.” you picked up the cloth intended for wiping bakugou’s face. “do you think you could finish up by yourself?” 

he took the cloth from your hands. “yeah, sure.” he pushed himself up and was out of your room, waving his thanks. “i’ll pay you back so i don’t owe your ass, got it, y/n?” 

“Alright.” 

bakugou shut the door behind him, leaving you and kirishima alone. 

“so, what was that about?” 

your eyes flew wide. “what was what?” 

“don’t act oblivious, y/n. you two looked at each other like you hung the moon in the sky.” 

you bit your lip, hiding the smile that was brought about upon reminiscing about the recent seen. “it wasn’t anything, kirishima. don’t worry about it.”

“i’m worrying. you know bakugou.” 

“that’s something you’d say about someone with dating experience, and a bad reputation regarding it. bakugou is—” 

“just like every other guy out there? it’s the twenty-first century. there are not many decent people left out here. do you really think he’s any different?” 

“well,” you said, shaking your head, “personally, i see he’s changed.” 

“two years isn’t going to erase all the past shit he’s done.” 

“there’s a thing called forgiveness.” you quirked an eyebrow at him, tilting your head down as you began cleaning up. “plus, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. we can both agree that hero society created toxic standards for all aspiring pros.” 

kirishima clenched his fists. “he’s bad for you.” 

you tossed out a few wipes into the garbage. “sorry?” 

“he’s...not good for you.” 

“i appreciate you thinking nobody is good enough for me, but at the end of the day-” 

unknowingly, kirishima was hardening his fingertips. his nails punctured the soft skin of his palms. “i don’t mean he’s not good enough for you, but that’s another truth, too. he’s just not good for you.” 

you turned, smiling brightly. “and since when did you know what was good for me?” you laughed, eyes closed. “why are you trying to dictate my decisions-” 

when you opened your eyes, you found kirishima standing closer, brows furrowed angrily.

your expression lowered into something angry. “what’s the matter?” 

“i just...i can’t.” 

“can’t what?” 

kirishima was one to be slow to anger. he always had been. you can’t recall a time you saw him angry or pissed except for when bakugou had been kidnapped by the league of villains. 

“kirishima,” you scoffed, “are you genuinely pissed over this? what? is this because i got mad at you because i scolded you for breaking bakugou’s nose? if anything, i don’t think i was wrong for-” 

“that’s not it. that...that isn’t it, y/n.” he stepped towards you. kirishima closed the gap between you both, pressing your back against the wall, trapping you there between his arms. “that isn’t it at all, y/n.” 

you swallowed. “then what is it, kirishima?” his eyes met yours, serious and stern. 

your chest tingled. 

he brought his fingers to your chin, angling your face with ease to get a better look at you. “call me eijirou.” 

“what?” 

“just once. please.” 

“why-” 

“once.”

“...what is it, eijirou?” 

the pause felt like an eternity. “it’s you, y/n.” 

“it’s...me? what about me? did i do something wrong?” 

he chuckled softly, but there was no humor in his longing smile as he stared down. “you’re so oblivious.” 

you could hear his heart beating, getting faster with every sentence he pushed out. 

“you’re so clueless, y/n. it’s kind of pissing me off.” 

“what am i doing to piss you off?” you snapped. 

he tongued the inside of his cheek. “like i said.” he flashed you an award-winning grin. “clueless.” kirishima pushed himself off the wall and left the room, the door shutting hard, but not slamming shut. 

you were left breathless, the hint of his cologne still lingering in the space before you. 

you’d avoided kirishima and bakugou for the rest of the night. 

- 

what kirishima had wanted to say was nothing like what he said, but he knew everything would come out all wrong if he’d try to say anything. 

his mind would have jumbled all his words, and he’d look like a crazy, insane lover. 

bakugou wasn’t bad for you. not at all. you two were perfect for each other. you both had thick skin for silly rebuttals towards one another. you brought out the fun side of the blonde, and he worked you to your best. 

kirishima was just your best friend. he hated to be the one who had fallen with nothing to soften the blow that was surely coming soon. 

his ears burned nearly as red as his hair. a shudder passed down his back, the feeling of your jaw pressed between his thumb and index finger still imprinted there. 

“i can’t fucking stand to see you around him.” 

kirishima made his way to the common room, finding bakugou looking for snacks there. kirishima scoffed as his friend emerged with an apple in hand. 

it was not like he hated bakugou. not at all. he didn’t think that pining for the same girl would ruin their friendship. he was just angry that you chose him. 

kirishima respected your decisions. he wouldn’t ever try to get in the way of anything if you and bakugou made that kind of decision. he just wanted to be near you. 

perhaps he should leave the situation alone. leave you alone and just forget about how his feelings were nagging at him every day. 

he should forget how you were the first thing on his mind every morning, and the thing he thought about when he fell asleep. 

you were everywhere. should he forget that too? 

- 

bakugou tossed his apple into the air. he clapped his friend on the back, taking a bite out. “go to sleep, idiot.” 

“don’t call me that.” 

bakugou turned, startled that kirishima wasn’t taking bakugou’s shit today. “you good?” 

“i’m fine, but i’m not an idiot.” 

bakugou’s body tightened. “alright.” 

the pair stood awkwardly for a moment before kirishima sucked in a sudden breath. “what is y/n to you?” he asked. 

bakugou raised an eyebrow. “what?” 

“they’re obviously something to you.” 

“listen, they were just helping me out. didn’t think you’d get offended from them fixing my broken ass nose.” 

“that’s not what i mean. i walked in on you two, and you were about to—” 

“i wasn’t going to do jackshit.” bakugou tossed his apple away, too angry to eat anything anymore. 

“yes. don’t lie to me.” 

“i’m not lying. where is all of this coming from?” 

kirishima huffed out a frustrated breath. he shouldered past bakugou. kirishima uttered words he hated himself for saying. “leave me alone.”

- - -

tag(s): if u want to be tagged in any continued fic of mine, pls let me know! i don’t have a taglist, but please @ me and ask to be on the taglist! thank u <33 

@heizenka 

@insomniac-nerd-posts-things

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 7

Summer

Chapters: Six | Seven

Master List

Warnings: Fluff, Fluff and more Fluff

Word Count: ~2.74k

Inspiration: Don't Go - Exo

A/N: And with this chapter, I conclude this series. Thank you for all the love you all gave my baby project!

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall, @badbitxhbuckybarnes , @sweet-assh0le

‘Why am I nervous? We've done much more than just kiss. For fucks sake! I'm the mother of his child.’

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down before pushing the cart from behind your truck towards the large glass doors of the café. You had offered to take today’s batch of bread and pastries to Levi’s to snag a chance to see him, much to Mikasa’s annoyance.

“Oi, brat! You’re late.”, Levi remarked without looking up from his laptop when the bell above the door rang with your entrance, expecting her to have finally arrived.

“Levi, I’m so sorry! I made an impromptu decision to come here instead of Mikasa and -”, you emerged from behind the lofty stack of boxes.

Your hair was up in a messy bun, you were panting from hauling the weight and the resultant perspiration made you glow. Your continual rambling about why you were late, instantly gave him a feeling of Déjà vu, hurling him eight years back in time to the morning when he first laid his eyes on you.  Mirroring that day, he couldn’t focus on anything you were saying, gawking at you with unblinking eyes given how stupefied he was by the sight before his eyes and the sound of your voice.

“Levi? Are you listening?”, you waved your hand in front of his face, disrupting the mental movie playing in his head.

“Huh? Oh, y-yeah. Hi.” he shook his head vigorously and blinked a few times to bring himself back to the present.

Both a blushing mess, you stood by the entrance to the cafe, smiling at each other like two smitten high-schoolers.

“Are you finally back together?”, a shriek from the opposite end of the seating area made your ears ring.

The cacophony was loud enough that Erwin’s head immediately peaked out of his office; his face riddled with confusion. Both your necks snapped towards the source - Hange was running in your direction with the brightest grin on their face. Every head in the room was turned towards you. Eren and other new members of staff at the café, Armin, Jean, Sasha and Connie were slack jawed with their gaping eyes fixed on you after being subjected to this abrupt and unnecessary announcement. One look from Levi sent them scrambling back to work.

“Fucking four-eyes.” he mumbled as they came closer.

“I knew it! You lovebirds couldn’t stay apart for long!”, they squealed with joy enveloping you both in an spontaneous group hug, not giving Levi an opportunity to flinch away.

“Shhh! Calm down, Hange! We’re not back together. Yet.”, you tugged on their hands trying to free yourself from their clasp.

Levi's eyes met and stayed on yours when you uttered the last word, the way his heart fluttered at the sound of it clearly reflecting on his face.

Yet.

“But you were together last night. You have both put in way too much effort in your appearances today. And the color on Short-stack's cheeks can be spotted from Mars! What am I missing here?”, they observed, unaware of the heat rising within their two friends thinking about their final moments together at the Ackerman home yesterday.

Always the perceptive one, Hange. They weren’t entirely wrong. You did spend forty minutes in your closet hunting for the one floral lemon-yellow dress that Levi loved seeing you in; piling on deodorant while simultaneously cursing the hot summer. You picked your reflection in the mirror apart for way too long, fiddling with the necklace he bought you ages ago while rehearsing what you would say to him.

By the looks of it, he did too. He looked oh-so handsome today. Granted, he always did. But today was different. He wore your favorite navy-blue button-down shirt with slate grey slacks, sleeves folded to reveal his toned fore arms, and the top two buttons left open to aid with the sweltering heat; or was it because he knew that it made you weak in the knees when he wore his shirts that way? And his cheeks and ears were definitely a brighter shade of pink than the raspberry compote on the cheesecake you brought.

He stood pinching the bridge of his nose, his breathing starting to speed up. You figured it was his attempt at suppressing the strong urge to smack the grin right off Hange’s face.

“Hange, I promise, I’ll give you all the details later. But for now, Levi and I have things to discuss.”, you pulled him away before he could act on his impulse.

Taking a seat at the table by the large bay window, kissed by the morning sun, you watched the city slowly rise awake with your cheek resting on the palm of your hand. Levi, who was walking back from the kitchen with a cup of tea for himself and a caramel latte for you, stopped in his tracks to mentally frame this image. It was as if you were a different person than who he met over the last two days.

There were no signs of the anxious but adoring mother from yesterday nor the bewildered, pained ex-wife from the day before; you were the same clumsy, moody, garrulous, as well as kind, selfless and mesmerizing woman he fell madly in love with when you walked in through the doors of this very place eight years ago. How could one person flood his heart with a barrage of different emotions this way?

You acknowledged him with a soft ‘hi’ accompanied by a smile when he sat down on the chair opposite to you, nervous about the forthcoming conversation. You stole occasional glances at each other while sipping your beverages, hesitating to be the one to say the first word.

“Do you hate me?”, he asked out of the blue, his gaze locked on his cup.

“No! Why would you think that?”

“Uh- you obviously had a chance to think about what I said to you after going home last night. Why would you possibly want to still see me?”

“Well, I’m here, aren't I? I want to work on us if you’re willing to try as well, Levi. I want to see where this takes us.”, you smiled, placing your hand on his.

"Me too."

.

.

Four months later

The day of Suki and Furlan's wedding was finally here. The venue was set, guests had arrived and you were busy helping the bride get ready for her special day, having spent all morning with her, Isabel and the other bridesmaids in the bridal suite, chatting away in excitement and anticipation for the day ahead.

“Honestly speaking, Suki, I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off you if I were Furlan”, you teased while draping the veil into her hair, causing her to bury her face into her palms.

“You’re one to talk! Levi has been looking for reasons to see you all morning. I had to turn him away thrice already. I'm pretty sure he is going to murder me after the wedding is over.”, Isabel shot back with a smirk.

The last four months had been nothing short of a whirlwind. After that morning at the cafe, having breakfast with Levi turned into a routine. He brought Luna along on most days, and the three of you spent time chatting and admiring the toddler’s antics over tea and scones while sitting at your usual table by the bay window. Sometimes you’d have her accompany you to the patisserie to give Levi a much-deserved break.

Everyone there was enamored with the little firecracker. Her Uncle Miche had always been her favorite because the gentle giant ferried her around the large kitchen on his shoulders. Bertholdt and Reiner would happily comply to all the orders their mini boss belted out. Annie, although a little awkward around her, listened intently to her endless stories; Mikasa secretly pampered her with numerous treats even after several warnings from you, and Nanaba would fuss over her all the time and try to keep the little one all to herself, earning protests from the others.

The evenings varied between taking Luna to the park or the pier, or just spending time indoors at your place or his. You even celebrated her fourth birthday two weeks ago. All your friends and family, along with some little friends the birthday girl had made at the park were invited. You spent a beautiful evening in the backyard of your house around a bonfire, with a delectable meal and wonderful company.

Levi especially made sure you knew that you were being wooed by taking you out on date nights every now-and-then to the finest of restaurants, walks on the beach, to the drive-in theater a few miles outside your town, or star gazing from your favorite spot up the nearby hill. You both were working through your differences and had barely had any disagreements during the time spent together. Things were slowly falling in place; in fact, this newly re-built relationship with him felt much stronger than ever before.

The flashback ended when the wedding planner knocked on the door indicating it was time for the ceremony to begin. You, Isabel, and the other bridesmaids ushered Suki to her designated spot, making sure her dress, hair, make up and flowers looked perfect.

.

.

Standing at the altar by Furlan’s side as his best man, Levi was relieved that he would finally be seeing you soon after being apart all morning. Lately, the two of you spent most of your time together; and this sudden separation had him feeling restless.

On cue, the two harpists seated on either side of the rows began to play heavenly tune of ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perry, a prompt for the bride’s party to start making their way towards the altar. He watched patiently as bridesmaids accompanied by groomsmen walked down the aisle, waiting for you to finally appear. He almost forgot to breathe when your form eventually entered the nave, walking a short distance behind Isabel and one of Furlan’s friends.

You wore the emerald gown from your encounter with him at the store four months ago, and looked a million times more beautiful this morning. Your usually open hair was tied into an elegant loose braid with some curly strands framing your face. The sun rays falling on your silhouette from the towering stained-glass windows of the church made you look like an angel descending solely upon him. He finally began breathing again when you smiled at him and mouthed “breathe”, after taking your position at the altar.

Levi only peeled his eyes away from you when Luna’s giggles reverberated off the stone walls as she waddled down the aisle, scattering petals of baby pink roses, about the same shade has her chubby cheeks, on the ivory carpet. You wiped a stray tear rolling down your face as you both proudly watched her play the part of a flower girl with utmost perfection. Upon making it to the end, she ran to you and buried her face in your gown, suddenly feeling shy from the cheers and applause she received from the smitten guests.

You instantly scooped her up and held her close, letting her nuzzle into the crook of your neck, cooing sweet words of encouragement into her ears. Levi was so taken by this divine scene before him that he failed to notice the bride's much awaited walk down the aisle; surprised to directly find Suki standing at the altar, facing Furlan with her lips curved into the widest smile before his attention found you and Luna again.

He lost track of how long he was marveling at his two perfect girls for, until he felt an elbow harshly crash into his ribs, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“Is this revenge for your wedding?”, Furlan frowned.

Levi blankly stared at him, having no clue what he was talking about

“Ring, Levi!”, the fuming groom growled.

Oh, right. He pursed his lips in embarrassment melting under the scrutiny of the baffled guests while he handed over the ring that was in the safety of his blazer’s pocket. His eyes darted towards an alarmed Suki and silently apologized to her. Then his gaze moved back to you, an impish smirk on your face as you stared back at him, knowing exactly what was going on in his mind.

Fuck! Furlan was not going to let this go for a long time.

Luna had lost interest in the festivities midway through the nuptials and had fallen asleep in your arms. After the ceremony, when everyone began to make their way outside the chapel, Levi swiftly moved over to walk beside you and offered to carry the snoozing toddler. You groaned after her weight left your body, stretching your sore shoulders and aching back .

“Stop that. You have no idea how hard it is to control myself from jumping your bones, especially when you look this gorgeous.”, Levi whispered in your ear, snaking an arm around your waist.

You glanced around awkwardly making sure his words did not fall on any prying ears and gave him a quick smack on the shoulder, trying to suppress the heat creeping up your neck.

.

.

Time skip – Evening

The wedding reception was underway. You sat at a table sipping lemonade, watching the newlyweds grooving to the beats of music being played by DJ Zeke. Levi swapped his usual glass of Macallan for a cup of ginger lemon tea; His reason being that his throat was sore from carrying out best man duties. But you knew he was just being supportive of your goal to stay off alcohol.

Erwin and Hange sat by the bar, socializing with Furlan’s Boss, Mr. Pyxis while Luna was busy playing duck-duck-goose with some new toddler friends she made at the venue. Levi needed to be physically restrained from ambushing Isabel who he had discovered slow dancing with the same groomsman that walked alongside her at the ceremony. Miche and Nanaba were spotted in a rare public embrace, dancing leisurely to the slow music; and your army of helpers consisting of Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Sasha, Connie, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie took the lead on setting up tables as yours and Levi’s patisserie and café were the official caterers for the evening.

The choice of DJ Zeke's next track brought a sparkle to your eyes. Your smile spread from ear to ear when ‘Fly me to the Moon' by Frank Sinatra emanated from the speakers. You sang along and began swaying cheerfully in your seat to the melody.

“Remember, Levi? This was the song we had our first dance to at our wedding.” you reminisced; a nostalgic smile spread across your face.

“How can I forget?”, he asked.

His eyes were unfocused, lost in memories of his own. He remembered how ethereal you looked in your white wedding dress. How your diamond jewelry shimmered under the spotlight, how you whispered honeyed words into his ears when he felt exceptionally uncomfortable dancing in public, how warm your hands felt wrapped around his body, how your breath tickled his neck. He’d give anything just to go back and relive that moment.

You gaze was still lost among people enjoying themselves on the dance floor when a stretched-out hand entered your line of vision. Your eyes followed it to land on Levi’s face. A quirk in your eyebrows wordlessly asked him what this action meant.

“Let's dance.”, he said.

“You, Levi Ackerman, are willingly asking me to dance? Did someone spike your tea?” You smirked, earning an eye roll from him.

“Oi, brat! Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

“May I have this dance with you, my love?”

You accepted and the pair of you headed towards the dance floor. He gently pulled you close to him and firmly held on to your hand. His other hand wrapped firmly around your waist and you rested yours on his shoulder. You both moved to the slow rhythm in perfect harmony, as you drowned in those gorgeous blue-grey eyes. It felt like the world around you had dissolved and it was just the two of you and the music.

“You look nice today. I see you bought the same gray suit you hated with a fiery passion.”, you teased.

“How could I not after you said you liked it?”

You looked over his shoulder to Suki and Furlan flashing you a wide grin from across the dance floor. And so did Hange, Miche and Nanaba from over that the bar. Erwin gently raised his drink in your direction. The heat from the from the sudden metaphorical spot light you stood under was cooled by the kiss Levi planted on your cheek.

“Did I tell you how lucky I feel to have you?”, he whispered into your ear as while brushing strands of hair off your face.

“I could stand to hear it more often.”, You hid your blush by resting your forehead on his shoulder, feeling too shy to keep his gaze.

“It's true. You’re the most beautiful woman is this room tonight, scratch that, you’ll be the most beautiful woman anywhere, any day; and I get the honor of calling you mine.” he cooed, drawing gentle circles on your back with his fingers.

“You’re awfully talkative today!”, you lifted your head again to reveal a contagious coy smile spread across your lips.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve always been talkative.”,

“Come with me.”, he moved you off his chest and tugged at your hand.

“Where?”, you asked in utter confusion, and a bit of annoyance at the wonderful moment being ruined, just to receive silence in response.

Levi quickly glanced over to find Luna munching on garlic bread sticks with Erwin and Hange, as he guided you away from the venue and towards the lake nearby. The ripples in the water gleamed under the moonlight, resembling liquid silver. Warm yellow light from the lamps on either side of a wooden dock dimly illuminated the path that led to a gorgeous gazebo that stood at the end, its ceiling sprinkled with fairy lights that defined the intricate floral carvings in the wood. You stood in the center of the structure and slowly spun around, marveling at the work of whose ever brilliant hands built it.

“Levi, this is stunning!”, you said gazing in all directions, running your fingers over the sophisticated engravings.

“Yes, it is.”, Levi agreed, his eyes not on the architecture, but instead on the human embodiment of radiant sunny day that stood by his side.

Not remotely expecting anything to outshine the sight before you, your vision was captured by an extravagant display of red, green, and gold against the dark blanket of the night’s sky. You jumped when the sound of the first soaring explosion caught you off guard. An arm slid across your waist and a kiss was placed on your temple. You were enamored by the shattering sparks of the fireworks, eliciting frequent oohs and aahs, until a voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“Marry me.”

It took you a few seconds to fully register what you just heard. But when you did, overwhelming feelings of joy rendered you speechless; fingers absentmindedly running over the carved railing of the gazebo, stunned orbs darting between the brilliant sky and the love of your life.

This time Levi had to remind you to breathe.

Your eyes and lips both turned into wide Os, and you slapped your hands to cover your gaping mouth when he slowly lowered himself to kneel before you, opening a little black box containing the same gorgeous ruby ring from all those years ago, which he sneaked out of your nightstand during one of his visits.

“I know that you said you wanted to take this slow. But the last four months with you have been the most precious of my life, where I got a glimpse of what having a perfect family would be like. I learnt the hard way, what I lost when I lost you and you gave me a second chance at finding happiness when you decided to come back. I promise to love and protect you every single day for the rest of my life, and even after. You complete me, love, and you complete our family. So, will you do me the honor of being Mrs. Ackerman, again?”

“Levi...”, your trembling voice was barely audible.

“Yes.”, you breathed, letting the floodgates finally open when he slid the ring on your finger.

He got back on his feet and engulfed you into the tightest embrace as you wept joyous tears into his shoulders.

“I love you so much!”

“I love you too!”, moving to look into your eyes, he cupped your face with warm hands.

And finally, his lips found yours.

It felt... like home;

Like laying in a cozy bed after a long day of work, like the warm chocolate sauce on a cold scoop of ice-cream, like wearing a fuzzy sweater on a crisp autumn evening, like walking barefoot on the beach at sunset, like taking a cool shower on a blazing summer afternoon, like everything you ever needed.

After being torn apart from the one person who made your life perfect, you were finally back in the soothing confines of his strong arms, resting against his able chest, ready to fall apart; all while the fireworks in the sky mirrored the fireworks in your hearts.

“Mama! Papa!”

You were awoken from this surreal euphoria by the most beautiful squeal you had ever heard. Both your heads turned towards the source of it – a tiny figure running towards you with all her might while all your near and dear ones including the newlyweds watched from a distance, cheering merrily.

“They knew?”, you gasped, sobbing and sniffling from the joyous tears.

“Yeah, pretty much everyone but you knew.”

Luna flew into Levi’s open arms when he bent down to receive her. The three of you merged into one blob of a positively smothering family hug, only pulling away to pepper each other with more kisses. Levi held his two girls close. His sun and moon were now back together in the sky of his life. He looked into Luna’s crescent shaped eyes and whispered,

“Moon beam, Mama’s coming home.”

[softlyjiminie]

cherry glosses n car washes | j.j.k

⇢ pairing(s): goth!jeon jungkook x sorority sister!reader.

⇢ word count: 7K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: pwp, smut, fluff, college!au, sorority!au.

⇢ summary: in the blistering heat of the summer sun, a bikini carwash is the last place you’d expect to find tattoo bearing, black sweater wearing jeon jungkook. but then again, no one expected to find him dating everyone’s beloved sorority queen YN LN either. in all honesty, he only really came to support her…but most definitely in more ways than one.

⇢ warning(s): please read! brief fight scene, heavy smut, pwp, switch!jungkook, switch!reader, oral sex (male receiving.), oral fixation, fingering, handjobs, heavy!exhibitionism, dirty talk, overstimulation, male masturbation, cumplay, creampie, unprotected sex - please wear protection!

⇢ author’s note(s): hello my loves! happy august! i hope you all are having a beautiful summer! the time has finally arrived for this cheeky fic, read with caution! extreeeme jk spice up ahead. ( thank you to @bangtan-headquarters for allowing me to participate in their Bangtan Boardwalk Collab Event! )

everyone knows who YN LN is. some know you as a daughter, a friend but to everyone at alpha delta pi, you were sister. you were a kind to all, taking care of your peers in your sorority, whether that be during times of hardship or just needing a simple friend to pull through. no person went untouched by your bright light, no person went without your cheery smiles and soft spoken voice, through cherry glossed lips and under peach blush.  you made friends everywhere you went, entrancing them with sparkling eyes and a soft cherry blossom scent— and although you denied it, you were everything everyone wanted to be; smart, pretty, popular— you were living the dream.

but then there was your dream...jeon jungkook.

with dark ink tattoos of guns and roses spiralling down his arms and intertwining with his finger tips, long, thick hair and more piercings than you could count, jeon jungkook was the epitome of college bad boy. your boyfriend was the complete opposite of yourself, trading out any colour for black sweatshirts and heavy combat boots, grazed knuckles and a pierced lip that contrasted with the bubblegum pink shirts you wore every wednesday because your sorority was obsessed with early 2000s movies and yelling ‘you can’t sit with us!’ to jocks across the quad.  

jungkook liked rock music, his motorbike named missy, painting his nails black and writing songs with his little band ( the weeping kittens, which you always found absolutely morbid but loved anyways ) whilst you liked collecting sparkly lipgloss and pretty stationary kits and those sanrio stickers that you liked to put on jungkook’s phone case sometimes. it was a wonder to anyone on campus how you got together, and to say they were intrigued was an understatement.

but you loved him for who he was, even with all of his odd little tendencies; like wearing black in the summer and scrunching his nose up when he laughed too hard, or how he used your hair clips to hold his hair back when he was concentrating. you liked that he quiet in class but loud and giggly with you, soft and sensitive, snarky and sweet. jungkook wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met, not like jung hoseok from your brother frat— who all your friends thought you’d end up with. of course, you’d flirted with the jock once or twice at parties but he hadn’t stolen your heart that night in sophomore year when jungkook stole your kisses in the back of his yoongi hyung’s van.

and although your friends still try to set you two up, jung hoseok will never be your jeon jungkook— there just isn’t anyone else like him.

that’s why you wear his oversized black AC/DC shirt that differs very much from the pink interior of your room, decorated by your roommate in the sorority house on campus. you didn’t have the heart to tell aerum that the feathers above your bed made you sneeze in your sleep, or that her choice of wallpaper sometimes made you woozy and that you’d much rather a less...bedazzled look; so you let her decorate as she pleases, with only a few hums in of agreement when she changes the settings on the LED lights every week. it’s only now that you realise how blistering this summer is, so you have the air con turned up to the max— goosebumps rising on your bare legs as you chat to your boyfriend of a year over facetime about you’re upcoming philanthropy project.

‘a bikini car wash, huh? like in those teen romcom movies you make me watch?”

your boyfriend mumbles absentmindedly—jungkook has his phone propped up against something, giving you a full view of his perfectly toned body as he strums away at his guitar— he claims he’s writing you another song, the lyrics purely focused on your pink skirts and cherry vanilla chapstick, but your concentration slips as you watch his inked fingers tug at his guitar strings...thinking about the way they’d curl around your throat or slip into the warmth of your mouth and press down against your pink tongue.

your lover glances up from playing for just a brief moment, the corner of his red lips twitching up into a brilliant smile when he catches you looking. ‘dollface, you’re staring.’ he whispers smugly, quirking his pierced brow at you and you struggle to hide the warm blush that blooms across the apples of your cheeks and neck.

“no i’m not.”

‘don’t be a brat, you know you are.’

you whine at his scolding tone, rolling over on your disney printed bed sheets because after all, you’re still a little girl... or his little girl as jungkook would put it. he makes a low noise in his throat, finally putting down his god forsaken instrument so he can pay attention to you, before sitting back in his seat expectantly. “are you sure you don’t wanna come? we’re raising money for a good cause!” you try again, jutting out your bottom lip in full pouty mode as you bat your eyelashes up at him. you’d been trying to convince jungkook to come to your philanthropy event for at least a week— the aforementioned car wash that was happening tomorrow— but whenever you brought it up, his gaze would drop and he’d fall quiet. “we’re donating all the proceeds to food shelters...”

‘i don’t know, YN...’

“i even got a new bikini, i wanna show it off for you!”

‘angel...’ your boyfriend sighs, running a hand through his midnight locks with the lightest hints of frustration. you deflate immediately, dropping the topic in favour for not pushing him any further. you don’t mean to upset him, you just really want him there so you can show him off and gush about how much you love him— the thought itself has your pout deepening before you know it. ‘come on now dollface don’t make that face, you know i can’t help myself when you make that face...’

this much is true, you know that no matter what you’re doing, if you make that face— jungkook’s a goner. “meh...” your voice is quiet and muffled from where you’ve shoved your face into the sheets to hide from jungkook, because you know that you’ll melt if you look at him. you don’t know what it was about him, but your lover always had a way of making you feel small in the best of ways. despite his quiet personality, jungkook was very domineering inside and outside of the bedroom, he cared for you like no other, protected you like no other. he wasn’t one to take advantage your kindness and he wasn’t about to let anyone else do the same so perhaps that’s also why you fell for him.

jungkook hums, leaning into the camera to get a better look at you. ‘it’s not that i don’t want to come and support you baby... i’m just worried that you’ll be exposed too much and—’  he lowers his voice, so you feel as if he’s lying right next to, causing you whimper out for him. the boy tuts, a lazy smile painting his lips as he looks at you with all the love in his eyes. ‘—and god as much as i’d love to see you show off your little outfit for me, i’m not so sure i’d fit in with your...crowd of friends...’ you nod your head slowly in understanding, because as much as you loved the girls in your sorority, they had a knack for making jungkook feel like he didn’t deserve you, purely because he was different from your usual type and jungkook was always too shy and introverted to say anything. you hated that he couldn’t feel comfortable around your friends like you could with his— so you couldn’t blame him for not wanting to come around.

“s’ okay googie,” you hum, curling into a ball on your bed as he laughs at your pet name for him. “i’ll just have to show it to you another time.”

‘another time it is, dollface.’ jungkook repeats, pretending to boop your nose through the screen. you talk for a little while longer before the members of the weeping kittens come in and interrupt your facetime call.  the band consists of four members; yoongi the drummer, namjoon the guitarist , jimin the bassist and jungkook, of course, lead singer and guitarist number two. the older two occupy themselves with teasing your boyfriend, poking his cheeks and singing old playground songs ( “YN and jungkook sitting in the tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”) whilst jimin clings to the youngest like a baby and if you hadn’t known better, you’d have thought that the purple haired male was the baby of the group.  

jungkook’s cheeks flush a deep crimson when you decide to play along, wishing him a goodnight that makes his face ripple with cringe. “sleep tight googie-poo,” you coo with a sing song tone, finally sitting up to blow him a kiss. the other members shriek with laughter, ruffling their little junggoogie’s mop of dark hair as you tease him for them to see. “i love youuu!”

‘goodnight angel-bear,’ jungkook says quietly, gritting his teeth has he sinks into his sweater to hide his embarrassment. you know his reaction is more of a result of his hyung’s teasing— he claims he can’t sleep well without saying goodnight in your special way. ‘i love you too...’ he mumbles, giving you a shy smile before hanging up the call, leaving you to fall asleep with an equally wide smile.

“there you go, joongie, hope she’s clean enough for you!”

you grin as you wipe the remaining sudds off of hongjoong’s bright red vintage car that you’re sure he spent all of his college loans on. nonetheless, you take the twenty he offers you from his wound down window and ruffle his matching strawberry hair. “thanks YN-ah,” he giggles, turning away from you for a brief second to tuck his wallet away, he briefly smacks his friend ( mingi ) on the thigh for staring at your boobs — and you can’t blame him, you love those girls — before offering you a bright smile. “you guys did a great job on her.”

you thank him once again, winking at mingi with a sly smile before waving the boys off and waiting for the next customer. the bikini car wash your sorority has set up is booming with business, students from across campus driving in to get their cars cleaned. some of the girls on the committee ordered in pink and white balloons to hang outside your dorm house, with a handmade sign saying ‘alpha delta pi wash!’ painted in pastel shades. your girls are having a great time too, looking stunning in all types of bathing suits that show off their beautiful bodies under  golden rays, splashing each other with soapy water to ease the burn of the summer sun against their skin.

you quite like the little number you’re wearing too, a pale pink two piece with obsidian black accents and panelling at either side. you wave to some of the girls as you head over to your booth to count the cash you’ve made so far, when the familiar sound of rowdy cheers and hollering boys fills the air. barely glancing up from your work, you note the excited squeals of younger members of your sorority— already tripping over their flip flops to get a taste of the frat boys that take over your car wash.

“what does a guy have to do to get his car washed around here?”

rolling your eyes, you close the catch box with a drawn out sigh— picking up your gaze to meet that of jung hoseok’s. he stands half a head taller than you, chocolate brown hair parted and pushed back from his forehead, he wears the typical varsity jacket and baseball cap combo, paired with blue jeans and his signature chunky trainers. you wouldn’t lie and say that hoseok wasn’t attractive because you’d messed about with him once or twice before, but now he couldn’t seem to understand the boundaries of your blossoming relationship with jungkook. “pay thirteen bucks and use some manners?” your question is more of a statement, with you not in the mood to deal with a cocky frat boy who thinks he’s entitled to your service. the brunette looks taken a back, not used to your snarky attitude with him, but today was not a day for you to be messed with, all you wanted was to raise money for a good cause and have fun, not deal with assholes like him. nonetheless, the jock hands you his donation with a smirk as you whistle over one of the girls to help him.

“hyeri, you don’t mind helping hoseok over here do you—?”

“no,” hoseok cuts in, stepping between yourself and the older girl— stopping her from taking the equipment she needs to clean his car. you roll your shoulders, a light sweat dripping between their blades as frustration builds up within your temple— dealing with hoseok is bothersome and all you want is to relax and let lose. the brunette steps closer to you, and hyeri watches with blushing cheeks, the short, red head almost wishing she was in your position— her flustered attitude only inflating the boy’s ego. so entitled. hoseok was so so entitled. thinking that he could get anything he wanted from any girl just because he was pretty, and maybe that was the reason why he liked you so much— because you resisted him. “i want you to do it, YN, wash my car for me princess? please?”

scoffing, you cross your arms and send an apologetic look to the bumbling mess that is now hyeri. “book him a slot for me, love? i’ll let you help?” you ask softly to which she nods her head and runs off to take a note. hoseok smiles triumphantly but his win is quickly shot down by the glare you send him, and if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under. “you know it’s gonna cost you extra for even having me near you, right?”

“that’s an extra cost i’m will to pay...” the boy hums, smirk finding its way onto his lips once again, as he hands you another twenty before heading back to his car full of idiots. relieved that he’s gone ( for the time being ) you release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding and head off to grab an extra bucket and sponge to clean hoseok’s obnoxiously bright yellow ferrari, but not before you take a second to reapply a layer of your favourite cherry gloss that had faded during the day.

you miss the recognisable sound of yoongi’s truck while your back is turned to the hustle and bustle of your event, so your skin jumps with goosebumps when a familiar pair of arms wrap around your bare waist. “guess who?” a soothing voice whispers into your ear, causing a light giggle to pass between your freshly glossed lips.

“let me think, is it mr. tall dark and handsome?” you tease, squealing as jungkook picks you up and spins you in his arms. before he’s even set you back onto your feet, your boyfriend attacks your face with soft kisses while tugging you into him.  “you came!” you beam, once jungkook finally allows you to pull away— using an inked finger to trace patters on the small of your back. hums of approval sound from the bottom your throat while your stresses melt away, your boyfriend’s presence easily calming you down.

jungkook nods, a small smile tickling the corners of his pierced lips as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and presses your foreheads together. “i realised that i was being stupid,” the guitarist mumbles, lips only inches away from your own— you’re so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin and his own body heat radiating against yours. although your foreheads are growing sticky from sweat ( a result of the intense summer heat ), you don’t mind, loving being in close proximity to your lover.  “i shouldn’t let the fact that we have different friends stop me from showing my support, i shouldn’t be one to judge your events or say i think you’re exposing yourself— because this is your body and your choice and i’m so proud of you, sorry for being a dumb boy.”

you boop his nose, heart melting at your boyfriend’s words and even more when he scrunches his nose under your touch. “but you’re my dumb boy,” you add, teasing him slightly as you lean up to brush your lips against his. from the outside, it would appear that jungkook would always be the one to make you flustered— so it amused you when your larger, much more intimidating boyfriend blushed under the slightest touches from you. he puckers his lips, awaiting your kiss only for you to nip at his earlobe and whisper. “now how may i help you today?”

pulling away, you can see jungkook shyly curling in on himself— beyond flustered by your actions. his brown doe eyes avoid your gaze while his fingers slip into the sleeves of his black sweater as if he’s hiding. “i uh, also came to get yoongi hyung’s truck washed... he’s not happy with the state we left it in last time,” your lover mumbles quietly, and now you understand why he’s acting more shy than usual.

with bubbling laugher, you reach onto your tippy toes to ruffle jungkook’s long black locks— effectively moving them out of place. “i can help with that, koo,” you tease and pinch his cheeks as you return to your normal height. “but i can’t promise it’ll be any cleaner than last time—“ jungkook tugs you into his chest once more, opening his mouth  to speak, when a car begins honking from your left. you huff, pushing your head into your boyfriend’s broad chest while you grip his sweater. “it’s hoseok...i’m sorry.”

jungkook shakes his head, offering you one of his beautiful bunny smiles before he leans down and captures your bottom lip between his teeth. his deep caramel eyes are locked onto yours before he grasps your cheeks and kisses you fully, tongue slotting perfectly against yours as they battle in a light dance for passion. but as soon as the kiss comes, it’s over, jungkook releasing you while you stand dazed to process what happened. your boyfriend was never one for PDA but you definitely notice how he smirks and revels in the cheers you both get, sending heat straight down to your core and making a light slick pool between your thighs. cheeky bastard. the boy salutes you as he lets you go, allowing you to run off to hoseok’s car while someone else books your lover in, before he heads back over to the truck. you make quick work of building up the suds for washing the car, dipping your sponge into the soapy water as you work on the hood— deciding now of all times, would be an ample opportunity to tease him. in the meantime the guitarist makes himself comfortable in the drivers seat of yoongi’s truck, watching you get to work— and it’s not long before he notices little things about you, like how you lean over hoseok’s car a little more, drawing attention to the curve of your ass or how you purposely drench yourself with the crisp, clear and cool soapy water when you ring out each sponge.

suddenly, jungkook’s pants begin to grow tight and his senses kick into overdrive as he becomes increasingly aware of the show you’re putting on for him. the boy knows what you’re doing, from the way you look at him from over your shoulder, to the spark in your eyes and the way you lick your cherry gloss lips. jungkook’s body acts for him, hand sliding down to the buckle of his pants as he slowly undoes it— his cock is half hard in his briefs just from watching you. he hisses when he grabs his length, pumping it slowly. jungkook feels wrong, dirty for touching himself in public, let alone in his hyung’s van but he can never help himself when it comes to you— so he almost whimpers when you lean over to soap up hoseok’s window and give him a full view of your breasts in the little pink bralette  you wear.

the guitarist thanks his luck that his dark sweater covers his dirty work, thrusting he shallowly into his hand— imagining that it’s your cute little pussy clenching around him. the warmth of need bursting in his chest because god, you look so good and he knows you’ll sound better when you’re underneath him. squeezing his cock, jungkook let’s a low groan rumble in his chest— fingertips just brushing at his orgasm.

but the euphoria of his release is suddenly ripped away from him when another girl he recognises as your roommate, areum, from the nights he visits you at the house— knocks on his window. jungkook tears his hands from his pants and gives the girl a smile, driving over to get the truck washed just as you finish up with hoseok. you smile at the job you’ve done and the way the frat member’s car shines as you dry up your hands. right when you’re about to leave to find jungkook, hoseok slips from his vehicle and grabs your wrist so that your attention is turned to him.

“she looks great, YN... thanks for cleaning her up,” hoseok praises you, leaning back against his precious yellow ferrari that you’re sure is loaned ( because realistically what college student could  afford such a fancy car ), you blink, appreciative of his thanks and nod your head but your mind is too hazy from the looks your guitarist lover was giving you earlier. you know he’s beyond turned on at this point and your mouth almost waters from the thought of him taking you right there, right now. “is there any way i can repay you?”

you snap out of your thoughts, tugging your wrist from hoseok’s grip and smiling at him sweetly— hoping that it speeds up your interaction so you can return to your boyfriend. “you already paid.” you mumble bluntly, turning to leave once more before you’re pulled back into the taller male’s grasp.

“why so distant YN-ah? let me take you out to say thanks?”

“let me go hoseok.” you warn, growling out your words. it’s like he couldn’t understand, that he was incapable of realising that you just weren’t interested in him like that anymore. your eyes and heart were set on jungkook, your days flirting and messing about with boys from the neighbouring frat were over and you didn’t care what people thought of your new relationship. yes, jungkook wasn’t  your usual, conventional type but he was yours. your shy, emo, inked, pierced pretty boy.

“just think about it...” the boy pushes for you to consider it, pulling you into him by the hips as the pads of his fingers sink into your naked skin.

“hoseok.” you repeat, your tone much harsher this time as you push him back by his shoulders.

“just let me—“

the wind is knocked out of you before you have a chance to retort, as you’re yanked free from hoseok’s burning grip into a warm and familiar embrace. you immediately recognise jungkook’s sweet, floral scent and cast your gaze upwards, his sharp jaw is clenched, pierced nose is flared and skin shines under the sun from his light perspiration. you’ve never seen him so angry before, at least not in public. jungkook has never been one to start fights or initiate major PDA in front of anyone, so his attitude today... shocks you. “are you dumb, stupid, or is it both?” your boyfriend spits, anger at hot as the sun that beats down on you. his large palms that hold onto your waist tighten and his possessiveness starts to make you light headed with want. you don’t know if it’s the fact that you’re both angry or that jungkook never gets this pissed but you feel the same wetness from earlier begin to gather in your panties. “shit man,” jungkook continues as a crowd begins to gather. “when a girl says to fuck off, you fuck off, especially when she’s taken.”

your pupils blow wide, gaze flickering over to hoseok who’s chest rises and falls with a mix of embarrassment and anger. you can’t tell which is the more domineering emotion. “and what if i don’t ‘fuck off’ what are you gonna do about it freak? we both know she deserves better than you.” hoseok goes for a low blow, eliciting a chorus of ‘ooo’s and ‘fight! fight! fight!’s from the group that surrounds you and his car. your boyfriend clenches his teeth ready to to spit out another comeback when you detangle yourself from his grip and knee hoseok in the dick before giving him a good old sucker punch— watching with a satisfied glossy grin as he doubles over in pain.

“YN, you bitch!” he cries out in pain, and you’re about to swing again when jungkook lifts you by your hips— legs kicking and arms flailing just to get another taste. once you’re a fair distance away, your boyfriend sets you down as you shake out your hand— knuckles barley bruised from the punch and you know that your lover is impressed ( and maybe just a little more turned on ).

hoseok’s frat brothers help him clear up his bloody nose while girls fawn over the poor thing. you’re not surprised when hyeri gives you a disappointed look, punishing you with the task of cleaning the interior of the douche’s car whilst the sorority takes a lunch break. something about repaying him for almost breaking his nose. you don’t mind though, you were far too hungry for something else.

“that was hot,” jungkook mumbles against your neck after everyone’s gone, he’s got you pressed against the door of yoongi’s truck— thigh between your legs and lips barley touching your neck. you moan lowly, feeling your hips naturally grind down against the meat of your boyfriend’s thigh whilst slick gathers at your entrance.   the combat jeans he wears are a rough polyester, only adding to your stimulation but you’re beyond turned on at this point, not caring if anyone sees. not that they will, the car wash is closed while everyone’s on break, so you have time to kill. “the way you sucker punched him like that, god i don’t think my dick’s ever gotten that hard that fast...”

your laughter falls into an airy moan, as your fingers dance their way down from jungkook’s sweaty hair to push at his sweater. you wonder how he’s not burning in the thing with how thick it is, not to mention how black clothes attract heat but you don’t question it, only knowing one thing and one thing only. that you want it off. “don’t lie to me googie,” you whine when he pulls away to rid himself of the ghastly article of clothing— a different type of heat building in your core. “saw you watchin’ me wash hoseok’s car earlier, bet you were painfully hard just sitting there knowing you couldn’t touch me,” you breathe, enjoying the way he twitches in your grasp as you yank him up for a blazing kiss. his strawberry tongue swipes over your lips to taste the cherry they have painted on and the flavour bursts in your mouth as he forces your lips apart and tangles his tongue with yours. when he pulls away, only a trail of saliva connects you both, making you both groan in unison. “were you touching yourself, baby?” you ask breathlessly, forcing your head back against the cool surface of the truck.

“fuck, angel face...” jungkook hisses at your lewd words, hips stuttering when you grab his growing bulge through his jeans. “h-how’d you know?

“i just know you.”

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours once again, fingers diving down to pinch your clit over the panties of your bikini— making you squeal with pleasure. jungkook swallows each and every one of your noises, hands trailing up and down your body until the slide under your bralette where inked fingers pull at your nipples and squeeze at your breasts. the peaks harden under jungkook’s touch, which is surprisingly cool despite the weather and you arch your back into him— desperate for more.

“let me feel you,” he finally says, sounding just as desperate as you and you nod, letting jungkook drop your feet to the ground gently and shove his shirt into the front of yoongi’s freshly cleaned truck. the guitarist is about to open the door for you when an idea pops into your head. pulling jungkook’s arm, you point over to the piercing yellow ferrari on the other side of of the lot outside of your sorority’s house and his face falls. within an instant, the key’s of hoseok’s car are back in your hand (after an hour of cleaning it) and jungkook is lowering you onto it’s hood. “want me to fuck you here, dollface? for everyone to see?”

you nod your head, a series of incoherent babbles falling from between your lips as you stare up your boyfriend with a hazy look in your eye— a look that drives him wild. jungkook strips you of your bralette and takes a breast into his mouth, sucking and licking and biting like a man devouring his last meal. you have no choice but to take what he gives you, closing your eyes to the melody of wet, sloppy sounds as his warm tongue swirls around each bud— contrasting with the cold metal of hoseok’s car beneath you. his freehand tweaks your other nipple before dancing down to between your legs as he pushes your thighs further apart. wetness pours from your burning entrance, causing your panties to stick deliciously to your pussy and jungkook groans around your second breast ( having switched between the two ) before he slides his two fingers past the flimsy pink material to circle your dripping hole.

“please koo, finger me...fuck me!” you cry desperately, writhing against the expensive car that your pussy drools onto.    he groans, wasting no more time as he pushes his tattooed digits into your tight cunt, you whimper as he grinds his palm against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of you— dragging his finger tips against your needy walls as your eyes threaten to flutter shut from bliss.

your boyfriend tuts from your breast, standing straight to lean over you while more of your juices splatter lewdly against the hood of hoseok’s car. “nonono, angel, eyes open, want you to look at me as i stretch you open on this fucker’s car, yeah?” he pants, curling the fingers he has buried in your pussy so that they catch deliciously on that one spot. your bleary eyes focus on one thing and one thing only, your lover. the way that his lips shine under the sun with smears of your cherry lip gloss, and the way that his dark eyes shift to lighter shades of coffee brown in the sunlight— the way his strawberry lips are caught between his teeth as he pleasures you and your heart bursts with adoration. “that’s my good girl...” he mumbles, voice gravelly with need when he notices your open doe eyes.

with uncoordinated movements, you manage to tackle the buttons of jungkook’s pants, pulling his painfully hard cock free from its material confines. he practically whimpers when your burning palm comes into contact with his weighty length, his tip bright red and glistening with need. “feel good baby?” you ask him while doing your best to pump him in time with the thrusts of your fingers, creating the illusion of him being inside of you. jungkook leaks endless amounts of precum, eyes scrunching shut as he grows closer to his orgasm.

jungkook buries his mop of midnight hair into the crook of of your neck, kissing at the skin there. “d-didn’t finish earlier...” he stammers, thrusting his length into your grip. “if you don’t stop i’m gonna cum before being inside you...” he wastes no more time, pushing your pretty pink panties aside and slapping is leaking tip against your glistening pussy— teasing you both even though you’ve been craving each other all day. his strong, tattooed arms hook around your legs, bringing you closer to him as he finally pushes his cock past your entrance— you hiss in unison as his weighty length sits within you and you dig your heels into the small of his back to prompt him to move. “shit...angel, dreamed of this pussy all day...”

“then take it jungkook, take me like you mean it,” you almost scream, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. your nails dig crescent moons into his blemished, freckled skin as he circles his hips and drills is cock into you, tip rubbing against your fiery walls while you clamp down on him. your cunt selfishly sucks him in as you find the strength within you to lift your hips and meet his thrusts— loving the way he feels and the burn of his fat cock stretching you open. the air between you seems heavier, hotter as the sun shines brightly above you— your perspiration clouding the glimmer on the hood of hoseok’s car as mix of your arousals smear across the honey yellow paint. you’re messy, dirty, tainting hoseok’s car as jungkook fucks into you with wanton— chasing the release that’s been building in his stomach all day.

you love it though, the way he wrecks your little hole out in broad daylight for everyone to see if they wanted— the sounds of his hips slamming against yours filling the empty lot in front of your sorority. anyone could come back now and see you taking his cock, and the thought makes your pussy gush with sweet, hot nectar. “your cunt is so greedy, swallowing my cock whole,” jungkook reminds you, pushing his cock into your womb until he reaches the hilt. “you must like me taking you in public huh?” he speaks your thoughts, moaning heavily as you squeeze around his length with every word, your juices wetting him more. jungkook presses down on your tummy and you watch with awe as it bulges slightly— his hips never easing up as he pushes himself impossibly deeper inside of you. “god angel face, would you look at that, look at me inside of you.”

“you’re so big,” you praise from underneath him, gasping as he grinds himself into you— harsh material of his jeans brushing against your sensitive clit. you play a game of back and forth, pushing your hips against each other with every turn until jungkook picks up the pace again, a knot in your stomach begins to form— your orgasm sneaking up behind you as your pussy weeps and cries, painting the front of jungkook’s jeans as well as your pretty thighs. “wanna cum on this thick cock of yours koo, make me cum please please...”

“you’re driving me insane dollface,” jungkook comments through gritted teeth, pounding into you now at a relentless pace— you can feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your walls, causing your jaw to go slack as you drip endlessly. he shuts your pleas up with the two fingers in your mouth letting you taste the remains of your essence. your boyfriend only manages a few more thrusts before you’re falling limp against him with new colours flashing behind your eyes as cream against his cock. jungkook rides out your high, hitting your g-spot over and over and almost reaches his climax when you hear someone’s footsteps against the gravel. eyes widening jungkook pulls your weak frame into his chest, using the discarded keys to open hoseok’s car door before bringing you inside. your heart thumps as you spot a sister from your sorority in the side mirrors, she seems to be looking for something but for now, you remain out of view.

with that in mind, you push yourself out of jungkook’s iron grip— knowing full well that he still hasn’t cum. ignoring your boyfriend’s nervous and confused expression along with the thumping in your chest, you drop to your knees, paying no mind to the burn the gravel causes against them. “YN, what are you—?” jungkook never finishes his question as you brace yourself on his thighs, giving sweet kitten licks to his tip before taking him into your mouth. you won’t need to do much work, he’s already close and you can tell from the way his abs clench and his fingers weave their way into your hair. your free hands pump what doesn’t fit into your hot mouth, as you drool on his cock and spit gathers on your chin.

your boyfriend whimpers quietly in the front passenger seat and you slap his inner thighs when the girl walks past. you spare a glance to the mirrors once more, swirling your tongue around your lover’s length as he strains to hold in his moans. he whispers ‘pleases’ under his breath, begging you to let him cum...so once the footsteps retreat and disappear completely, you tap his thigh once and jungkook immediately bucks his hips. your jaw falls lax as he thrusts into your mouth as if it were your tight heat, desperately chasing the release he’s been waiting for all day. “fuck, fuck, shit!” he curses as your throat tightens around his length, causing him to spill his seed into your mouth. you swallow gratefully, only pulling away to show him the mess he made of your tongue before letting him pull you onto his lap. “such a dirty girl, sucking me off like that with people around...”

“you loved it,” you tease, twirling his long hair between your fingers as he kisses down the valley between your breasts.

“would have loved to cum inside you, more.”

you straddle jungkook’s lap, letting his half hard cock brush against your soaked panties as you grind down on him. “then let me make you cum again; let me ride you.” you state more so than ask, taking his hands into yours and intertwining your fingers. jungkook looks up at you with bright starry eyes, and you lose yourself within their constellations— you loved him, you knew that and no one would change that. the mood slips into something softer and you’re no longer in a rush to ruin hoseok’s car, instead you take your time easing yourself down onto your love’s length as it hardens with each stroke of your hips.

neither of you will last long this time, sensitive from your previous releases but that doesn’t stop you from slowly lifting your hips and bringing them back down to start a steady pace. the length of jungkook’s weighty girth, drags along your velvet walls with each rock of his hips into yours, sending tingles of pleasure down your spend. he lets go of your right hand, using his large inked palm to grab at your waist, guiding you into him in away that makes him whine. he moves onto your ass, squeezing the peachy flesh as you bounce on him, launching you both into new realms of pleasure.

“love that ass baby, how good it looks in this little set,” jungkook whimpers against your sweat slicked skin, closing his eyes to tune into the sounds of your angelic moans and wetness against his dick. “always so pretty for me...”

you swivel your hips in soft circles, clamping down on your lover with each word of praise as he sucks blues and indigos and violets between your breasts, his mouth salivating from watching them bounce with every thrust into your tight heat. he worships you under the golden sun, heated bodies moving together as you both work towards release. “it’s all yours, koo,” you cry, biting your cherry lips— bitten red and swollen from kisses your lover used to soothe your cries of wanton. “i’m all yours.” you add before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and you’re pulling him by the hair to yank him into another sweet kiss, tasting traces of your gloss on his pinkish lips.

“mine.” jungkook claims your mouth as his, as you squeeze and clench and clamp around his girth, tears beginning to roll as your high approaches. the guitarist doesn’t up, letting you swallow his whines as the sensitivity grows too much, the tip of his length hitting that one spot over and over again while you push your hips down to meet his every thrust.

“look me in the eyes when you cum with me.” you growl to him, freeing your hands to cup his cheeks— lips tingling and cunt spasming. jungkook can barely nod but he obliges, deep brown eyes pulling you in as his warm breath fans across your face. you drown in his eyes, falling under as the knot in your stomach finally snaps— your hips falter as you cling to jungkook with all you have, release glazing his cock until he fills you with his creamy essence. your fingers massage his wet scalp while you bury your face into his neck, hearing him whimper and cry out as he fills you over and over again.

eventually, the sensitivity grows too much and jungkook pulls out of you with small moans, fingers finding your messy entrance as a mix of your arousals drips onto the leather seats. “i love you, angel face...so fucking much,” he finally says with glossy eyes and a tiny smile, dipping his finger into your leaking hole and smearing the evidence of your rendezvous against your lips.

“and i love you, more than anything.” you hum back, licking the sweet and salty sheen from your lips before mirroring your lovers smile because all though he’d rubbed of your cherry gloss, jungkook’s cum was the next best thing.

⇢ taglist !

@periminkle @singular-itae @ggukkieland @preciouschimime @ultraanonymousey @aishots @yiyibetch @luvrssunrise @uyyugukkie​ @10cm​ @4gustdx​ @codeinebelle​ @itssmarla​ @http-je0n​

[philliamwrites]

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.1]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn't help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 There’s also a playlist for this story that you can find here and here.

Chapter 01: A High Destiny

A high destiny seemed to bear me on until I fell, never, never again to rise.

[Mary W. Shelley, Frankenstein]

    It starts as it will end: in darkness.

    Black dots dance in front of your eyes, merging into dark shadows clawing at your consciousness. A dull throb pounds in your temple, a steady rhythm that speaks of life but isn’t enough to allow awareness of your surroundings. Memory is a foreign word you can’t explain, and trying to think of the past 24 hours is an unachievable task. Every glimpse slips through your fingers like sand, and the only steady reference point is the solid ground pressing into your hands and back.

    Slowly, you open your eyes. Treetops dance in the wind, towering above you like silent guardians of ancient times. The sun winks at you through thick branchesa and dancing green crowns, indicating it’s long past daybreak—but how do you know? Your memory is still a vast pool with no bottom and no means to dive into, and yet you think there’s a voice calling out to you, a heart-wrenching young, boyish voice—no, those are real voices ringing through the woods, appearing close to you. Alarmingly close.

    “You’re awake,” a woman’s voice starts, moments later followed by a corresponding face. Round, lavender eyes surrounded by thick, white lashes peak from above at you, blinking curiously. It’s an expression far from friendly, but not exactly hostile either, and of all the things you can think of at this moment, it is how strikingly beautiful she is. But before you can say anything, another person joins, leaning too close in for comfort.

    “You got us worried there, stranger,” a young man chimes in, squatting down beside you. His uniform isn’t exactly what you’d call fit for travelling through the woods. A heavy yellow cape falls over his shoulder, more fanciful display than practical use. But something in his posture seems very attentive, his broad shoulders taut like a drawn bowstring that won’t miss its target. “Weird place to take a nap, but hey, I’m not judging.”

    “I wasn’t—” you start, immediately struck by a throbbing pain behind your right eye that reverberates through your skull and wretches a groan from you.

    “Take it easy,” another voice joins, and panic spreads through you because of the amount of people surrounding you. Where the first man is a picture of warm colours—gold and sun kissed skin nourished on warm summer days, the other man observing you with a worried expression is clad in blue and black, blond hair falling into a pale face that carries the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Or so you think, because surely a colour like this, a blue stolen right out of the sky, wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

    More movement and rustling of fabric, and a chill settles in your bones as you begin to fear that you’ve run into a bunch of ruffians who’ve only kept you alive for so long because they’re hoping for valuable information. More people emerge from the underbrush, carrying large sacks and backpacks with billycans dangling at their sides. Among them, a tall man with a beard, clad in robust mercenary’s gear, steps forward, concealing another young woman with sharp features and unusual greenish blue hair.

    The sight of her strikes you like a bolt. It tastes like familiarity and the relief of being reunited with a long lost friend. But that is impossible. This is the first time you meet her.

    Is it?

    “You brats, I told you not to head off too far,” the older man bellows, crossing logs for arms in front of his broad chest. The first three take one big, polite step away from you, but don’t look apologetic at all.

    “I’m sorry for our hastiness, Captain Jeralt,” the girl says, her eyes darting from you still sitting on the ground to him towering in his full height above them. “But it seems we would have otherwise not found this person.”

    “This person who wasn’t really much conscious a couple of minutes ago,” the boy in yellow adds with a crooked grin. “How bad would it have been if someone else would have beaten us to it?”

    “No need to make me look like the bad guy,” Captain Jeralt interrupts with a raised hand before the boy in blue can join his friends' justifications. Instead, he turns to you and regards you with a scrutinising look.

    “What are you doing out here?” he demands. “Where’s your family? Friends?”

    “Uhm, they’re—” you start, but nothing comes to your mind. Not only that. You don’t know why you’re out here, where you are exactly … and basically anything that should come to you about your own person remains shrouded in darkness. “I don’t know.”

    Jeralt nods like that explains the very reason you’re still sitting on the ground like a misplaced cargo of cabbage. He kneads the nape of his neck, his face softening the tiniest bit. “And what’s your name?”

    Unable to hold his piercing eyes, you drop your gaze to the ground, curling your trembling fingers into the fabric of your wool jacket. “I, uh… don’t know.”

    If you thought you didn’t have their attention before, now their eyes are glued on your face in different levels of shock and disbelief.

    “A case of amnesia?” the blond male says, not quite managing to achieve the right balance between blatant curiosity and polite worry. “Does this mean you have nowhere to go? Don’tknow where to go?”

    “Goddess help you, Dimitri,” the other boy groans, running a hand through his short, brown hair. “Be any more tactless, will ya?”

    “He isn’t wrong,” the girl says, observing you like you’re a fascinating new specimen in her collection of strange things. “You need a place to stay. And help until your memories return.”

    If they return, you don’t dare to say because despite all things, hope still clings to you in the deepest corner of your heart, not allowing you to follow that train of thought and what it will mean for your future.

    “Then by all means, if you want to join,” Jeralt says, waving a dismissive hand in your direction. “I don’t think you kids accept a No, so I’m going to save my breath.” He turns around with a grunt. “Get them your horse, Byleth. We’re late as it is, and another night of Alois talking my ears off will make me do something I’ll regret.”

    The woman called Byleth keeps staring at you even as Jeralt walks past her and gives her shoulder a solid clap. You can’t say if she’s mute or just speechless because she’s filled with the same strange overflowing sensation like you: like a basin filling with water but unable to drain off. It appears you’re the same age, a couple of years older than the other three but still much younger than Jeralt, and yet the moment your eyes lock, it feels like there is something far older than any of you together passing between you. Something ancient.

    “Well, first off, on your feet, little one.” Strong hands curl around your elbows, hoisting you up in one swift movement. A wave of dizziness hits you like an unavoidable spell, and the pounding from before settles back behind your right eye.

    “Amazing, Claude,” the girl hisses, and quickly steps forward to steady you, pressing one hand against the small of your back where her strong fingers curl against the curve of your spine. Her other hand gently holds yours as she helps you regain your balance. “Excuse his manners. I promise not everyone from the Officers Academy behaves like a brute.”

    “The what now?” you ask, hit by another wave of dizziness that might originate more from the girl’s soft lavender fragrance rather than the world spinning around you.

    “The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery,” Dimitri provides this time. His posture is straight like an arrow, the stance of a soldier speaking to his officer. “That is where we attend as students and hence are going right now.”

    “And you want me to come with you?” you ask like you have the option to refuse and go somewhere else. Strangely, the thought of joining a group of armed knights and mercenaries doesn’t fill you with fear or anxiety. You’re about to tread into foreign waters, and yet your heart is calm like a still compass guiding you in the right direction.

    Claude clasps his hands behind his head like he’s got nothing to do with you feeling unwell at the moment. “Unless you have another place to be?”

    Luckily, your head does come clear and breathing becomes a little easier. You nod to the girl and she holds you a second longer before she nods back and lets go. “I guess not,” you mumble, looking at each one of them. Byleth still hasn’t moved. By now you can’t really tell if she’s looking at you or through you. Surely, she would have said something by now if she thought you were familiar, right?

    “Then it’s settled.” The girl nods solemnly, throwing her silky, white hair over her shoulder. “We welcome you in our company. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.” Edelgard gives you a tight-lipped smile that quickly thins into a white line when the other two introduce themselves as Claude von Riegan, grandson of the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. None of these names ring a bell to you, but you nod, pretending to know exactly what they're talking about.

    “Okay, we need a name for you as well,” Claude proposes, tapping a slender finger against his chin. He has a strikingly sharp jaw that looks fit to cut stone. “Can’t have everyone call you stranger or little one now, can we?”

    “No,” you say. “Especially since we’re about the same height.”

    Claude laughs like you just told him the best joke he’s heard in years. “Soo, since we found you here … how about Glade? Or Woody?”

    “How about no,” you say with furrowed eyebrows.

    “Apologies.” Edeglard sighs and shakes her head, her expression a mix between disappointment and annoyance. “Claude isn’t much accustomed to the notion of consideration.”

    Claude rolls his eyes. “Then you come up with something, princess. Or is it impossible because you can’t take out the stick up your—”

    “Claude,” Dimitri half shrieks, his pale cheeks splotched with red dots. As he stumbles over his own words trying to apologise for Claude’s behaviour, Edelgard simply deadpans, “Bold words for someone in stabbing range.”

    The fourth in this round of strange people considers you with a blank expression, her steady gaze like a solid touch on your skin. Before a greater argument can break free between the students, Byleth says a name with a surety like she’s never said anything else in her life, and hearing it, this barely whispered word immediately lost to the wind, you just know it’s your name.

    “Yes, much better than what Claude proposed.” Dimitri nods, regaining his composure even though he’s still staring daggers at Claude. “It sounds more civilised as well.”

    “You didn’t even suggest anything,” Claude remarks, but the huff of annoyance quickly dissipates from his voice when he jerks a thumb towards Byleth. “That’s Byleth, by the way. Funny story is, we met her just a couple of hours ago as well.”

    “Fate must have brought us together here today,” Dimitri agrees with a solemn nod. “I swear on my honour as a noble knight from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus that I will see you safe to the Monastery. Lady Rhea will surely be able to help you there.”

    “Okay. Thank you,” you manage, unable to connect a face to this name in your head that feels like it’s about to burst any second anyway. The only course of action lies within those strangers who are so willingly offering help that you can’t stop worrying it’s a ruse. But without anything to offer them except your life, there’s little coming to your mind that they can anticipate in taking you with them. Tthe fact that Byleth knew your name doesn’t sit right with you as well. There’s something waiting to be grasped at the tips of your fingers, and yet you lack the strength to embrace it.

    Following the little group of soldiers and students through the woods, you remain silent on the journey, only answering questions with approving or denying hums. How did you end up in this particular forest? According to Jeralt, you’re currently moving away from a village called Remire and towards the mountains to the northeast where the monastery lies tucked away between two mountains. Judging from the clothes you’re wearing, you’re a commoner, and when Edelgard pushed a slim dagger in your hand, nothing rung in intuitive knowledge about how to handle a weapon. Your mind remained silent, like an untouched chord.

    There’s little you can say about the first impression those people left on you. There seems to be a unanimous dispute between the three students, hanging palpable in the air whenever an argument starts that’s pregnant with implied insults or passive-aggressive comments. From that you gather there’s tension between the governing fractions in Fódlan, something else you’ve learnt from listening to them squabbling.

    Byleth and Jeralt acknowledge their bickering as if it was flies buzzing around their heads. They keep more to themselves and their mercenary comrades, indicating they’re really as much of strangers to the students as you. Their conversations are a lot quieter as well, their heads leaning close together for the illusion of privacy. More than once you notice Byleth sneaking glances in your direction, and every time you lock eyes, there’s something close to comprehension when she looks at you. The further you march through the woods, the less you try to meet her gaze. Reaching the monastery is the first step to regain who you are, or so you hope, because the opposite would mean you’ll continue stumbling through the darkness with no lead to your past or why you’re in this particular part of Fódlan, and you can only hope that this Rhea person really will be able to help you.

    A sound from the underbrush cuts through your thoughts.

    Thinking it might be an animal, you don’t let it bother you too much. No one else seems to have heard it, so maybe it was just your imagination. But your brain refuses to let it rest, and fails to push it away from your mind because something about the sound doesn’t seem to be right. The more you try to focus on it though, the blurrier it gets; the less you understand its origin.

    Then, you hear a voice from within the woods. It sounds like a slurred whisper.

    “What was that?” You stop in the middle of the road, looking around the thick trees. Claude barely manages to avoid walking into you. “What was what?”

    “There’s something here.” Unable to explain further, you wave your hand around for emphasis. He looks at your hand, incomprehension written all over his face. “And that something is what exactly?” he asks.

    “I don’t know.” You wave your hand wilder. “But I don’t have a good feeling venturing further.”

    “You may be still tired,” Edelgard offers, not hiding her irritation that the journey stopped. “It won’t be long until we reach Garreg Mach. You can rest however long you need inside the monastery’s infirmary.”

    “I’m not tired,” you hiss, hand falling back to your side where it clenches into a fist. “I just really don’t think we should go further for now.”

    “And why is that?” Dimitri inquirers. He raises a hand and the soldiers following them come to a halt, a murmur of unrest breathing through their lines, and it’s just enough that you question if it would be better to play if off and admit your mind is playing tricks on you due to exhaustion.

    But whenever you blink, a red veil falls over your right eye, blurring your surroundings. Little red dots move slowly in the distance through the forest. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s some sort of life form far away, slowly advancing on your position. “Because someone is coming,” you finally manage, scratching the thin skin below your irritated eye that’s started twitching slightly. “Someone is coming towards us from southwest. And I can’t say if they’re friendly or not.”

    Three pairs of eyes consider you like you’ve grown a second head. Only Byleth stares into the woods like she might find the strangers you’re talking about waiting behind the trees if she just looks hard enough.

    “Little one, are you sure this isn’t just an aftereffect from you hitting your head?” Claude offers, squinting into the woods. You’re pretty sure he’s staring directly at the moving dots but for whatever reason can’t see them.

    “Unless amnesia is suddenly another term for going crazy, I don’t think so,” you snap, unable to hold back the irritation raising to the surface.

    A whistle echoes through the tree crowns. Byleth snaps her head in the direction of the sound, growing all tense. She raises her hand into a tight fist, and all movement stills behind you. When you turn around, you see the mercenaries waiting in the underbrush like a flock of crows ready to swipe down on their prey. Jeralt breaks away from them and approaches Byleth, a frown cutting a deep wrinkle into his forehead.

    “Bandits,” he says, and quickly signs a hand gesture to the nearest bowman. He nods and disappears between trees. “Another mile away. If we stay on this road, we’ll walk right into them.”

    “Seven hundred feet, actually,” you blurt. Jeralt looks at you like you’re a cockroach under his boot. Another whistle cuts through the woods, one long followed quickly by two short. Byleth exhales audibly, and only now you notice she’s moved to stand beside you. “Seven hundred feet,” she mutters, her eyes fixed on you.

    Jeralt tenses. “How do you know, kid?”

    “I don’t know,” you mumble towards your boots. “I just see.”

    There’s an uncomfortable silence falling around you, and you’re too afraid to look up and read distrust in their eyes.

    “Does it matter?” Claude finally breaks the silence, sliding his bow from his shoulder. “They won’t be a problem with the knights and mercenaries on our side.” He jerks his chin towards Byleth, already plugging an arrow from his quiver. “You should really see her fight.”

    “Wait,” you say, reflexively reaching for the hem of his cape. “Don’t engage them yet.”

    Claude stops, one eyebrow arched up in a curve. “Beg your pardon?”

    “They come from the woods. Which means this is their hunting ground and they have the advantage. They have dozens of archers. I think they’re waiting until you reach a glade. And then open fire.”

    “Which means we’ll end up as skewers.” Claude scratches his chin and twirls the arrow between his slender fingers. “I can think of better ways to shuffle off this mortal coil.”

    Dimitri perks up. “You’ve read the Tale of Hamelot I gave you?”

    “I’ll give it a six out of ten. His soliloquies were awful.”

    “Boys.” Edelgard snaps her fingers impatiently as Dimitri opens his mouth to protest. “Not the time.” She takes your wrist and pulls it away from Claude’s cape, her hard gaze like a sharp knife. “Are we simply ignoring the fact that we have someone in our midst knowing the enemies’ movement and deployment?” she cuts in harshly. “Is this a plan to lure us into an ambush?”

    “You think someone would give away their comrades’ position just like that?” Claude eyes her wearily. “Don’t be so suspicious of everyone.”

    She glares at him. “I rather be suspicious than dead.”

    Which is a valid point and a trait you willingly admit to share with her, but that doesn’t really solve the problem at hand. Luckily, Dimitri seems to think the same. He doesn’t unfasten the spear on his back yet, but his fingers dance swiftly over the handle, immediately resting on where he can easily pull it from the straps if needed to strike down an enemy. “Fact is enemies are approaching,” he concludes, looking at his fellow students in search for a consensual ceasefire. “We must put an end to them before they target defenceless travellers on their way out of the forest.”

    “Spoken like a true crowd-pleaser,” Claude says, either unable or not caring to hide the mock in his voice. “We can resolve our new friend’s condition after we take down the enemy.”

    “I don’t agree with this,” Edelgard declares, but nonetheless unclasps the double-bit axe from her back and swings it on her shoulder like it weighs nothing. “But I accept that this is a more pressing issue.” The easiness in the movement robs your lungs of air, and even though there are more important matters to focus on, you wonder how her muscles play under her black uniform swinging around a thing like that. Your admiration comes to a quick end when Jeralt and Byleth close the circle. Her hand rests on the hilt of a short blade as she scans the underbrush, her body rigid with battle anticipation.

    “Let them come to us,” Jeralt announces. “Let them think they have the advantage.”

    “Your knigths over there move slow through the woods,” you say, gesturing at the waiting man clad in heavy armour and armed with shields. “But their amour can resist some stray arrows coming down on us. It’s the rearguard that will take them by surprise from another direction and—”

    “And charge their flank or rear to finish them off,” Jeralt ends with a crude nod. “Indirect approach. I thought of that as well.”

    Your mouth goes dry. The idea plopped seemingly out of nowhere in your mind, but yes, now that you think about it, that is the indirect approach tactic, first recorded after the Battle of Nicaea in … Faerghus? Or was it Adrestia? The picture in your mind is still blurry, but now you can make out definite lines of objects: Books with drawn pictures of pointing arrows and coloured lines, each lettered with a name or an approach in a neat handwriting that isn’t yours. The picture triggers another wave of dizziness, disappearing as fast as it appeared.

    “They’re going to faint in three, two, one…” Claude’s voice rips you back to the present. You glare at him and raise a fist to show how close to fainting you really are. He only laughs at the tiny fist in front of his face.

    “Enough brats, get into position,” Jeralt bellows, and the students scatter with a bouncing step in all their strides as they take the lead of a small unit.

    You’re about to retreat to the furthest point away from battle when Jeralt blocks the way. “Not you. You’re going with Byleth.”

    “I’m what?”

    “Byleth,” Jeralt nods to the young woman ahead of you, “will be the commanding unit and you’ll help her.”

    The world tilts a little as panic takes hold of you. “I can’t. I don’t know how to fight.”

    “You seem to know enough to plan a counterattack.”

    “That doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds horribly piercing even to your own ears. “It was just a lucky guess.”

    “I don’t know what’s the deal with you,” Jeralt says with a finality to his voice that doesn’t allow objection, and this time you clearly see the head of a mercenary guild, one that gives commands with every breath. “But that wasn’t a lucky guess. You see what it needs to win a battle. So you guide them.”

    He turns around sharply and leaves, not bothering to check if you plan to abandon them. It’s madness. You should abandon these people, should flee from the fight that will demand blood and death. One, two, three … six steps and you’re standing beside Byleth, taking deep breaths. It doesn’t help. She eyes you sideways with a raised brow, and you flinch at the metallic rasping sound as she draws her sword.

    “I shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, staring into the woods. The red dots are approaching faster, forming into more recognisable features of humans. “I’m going to die. Without knowing who I am or why I’m here. This is the worst day of my life. I think. I don’t know. It has to be.”

    Byleth hums beside you. You can’t tell if it’s a thoughtful or an affirmative hum. “This might sound crazy, but I do trust you.”

    “Maybe you shouldn’t,” you say, struck by a sudden fear that this all is a fever dream and you're about to lead them into ruin. It’s enough that you don’t even notice this is the first time you two are talking to each other since your meeting.

    Byleth studies you out of the corner of her eyes, then says, “A very persistent voice inside me tells me I shouldn’t.”

    “That’s your survival instinct. Listen to it.”

    “Yeah,” Byleth says, and there’s something like a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You blink and it's gone. “I might do that.”

    You don’t really understand what’s there to smile about, but the moment quickly disappears as silence settles, only occasionally disturbed by a bird sitting in the trees above you.

    “So what exactly do you see?” Byleth whispers after a moment, barely shifting in her crouching position. You on the other hand really want to move your legs before they go numb.

    “I don’t know why you guys even believe me,” you mumble, and pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, trying to stave off another rush of dizziness. “And I don’t understand it myself. It’s the opponent, in a way. I see their strengths and weaknesses, their amour and weapons. It’s like … it’s like the flow of battle is displayed in front of me.”

    Byleth hesitates a moment, then nods like everything is pretty much self-explanatory. You wonder if to her it really does sound plausible, as she is someone who is practically born in battle, a daughter to a mercenary who breathes battle and fighting. Before you can explain anything further, she ducks more into the bushes and silences you with a sharp hush, her body tensed. The first bandits approach the glade, their bows and arrows ready to strike as the Academy’s knights engage them. Swords and axes clash against each other, battle cries ring through the woods. Byleth gestures you to follow her, and out of the corner of your eyes you see the students do the same, moving around the bandits. From the distance, you notice Claude gesturing wildly. It’s a mix between pointing at himself and then at the space a couple of feet away from his unit, and though you’re unable to fully comprehend it, you shake your head. He gives a thumbs up and slows down until he halts inside the thick cover of ferns.

    Just when you reach the right angle, Byleth looks back at you, waiting for your approval, and after briefly hesitating, you signal with a short nod to attack. Edelgard is the first to emerge from the underbrush. She has a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what her opponent will do next. Her axe cuts through the first bandits who are too surprised to regroup in time. Dimitri and Claude are quickly to follow her. The crown prince of Faerghus wields his weapon of choice like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. The spear is the instrument to a deadly song they know by heart, and whoever stands in the way of their melody is cut down swiftly. Claude doesn’t disappoint with his steady aim either, his eyes sharper than an eagle’s. He nocks his bow, draws and impales a bandit that’s been running toward a mercenary with a crooked nose and eye patch. The mercenary gives him an offhand salute and goes back to fighting a thug twice his size.

    And then there’s Byleth. At first you don’t see her as the battle’s chaos swallows her and she disappears between moving bodies. But once your eyes catch up to her again, it’s hard to look away. Byleth moves through the enemies’ lines like an avenging angel on a mission. Her sword arm causes havoc as it conducts the tact of death’s complicated choreography and one by one the bandits fall to her deadly dance. Strangely, what describes it the best, you think, is divine.

    The battle is almost over. The last bandits fall or flee back into the woods as they abandon their comrades who lay down their weapons and yield. A miserable sound of relief escapes you when you see the end nearing with little casualties on your side, thanking whoever watches over you and guides your weapons in victory.

    That is until you see something, and at first you aren’t really sure you see it. Veiled by a red haze, a gruesome scene unfolds before you: As Byleth is focused on helping a soldier back up on his feet, a bandit strikes her from behind, wedging a dagger through her spine and into her heart. When you blink, the scene is gone and with it the red veil covering your surroundings.

    You don’t think twice. Jumping out of your hiding spot, you quickly recognise what will be Byleth’s murderer. Only he never gets the chance to approach her. With everything you’ve got, you charge into him and send him flying on the ground, you on top of him. The bandit groans, groggily turning on his back to see what struck him, and before you can start to fear for your own dear life, Byleth is beside you and rams her sword into his throat, silencing him forever.

    She looks down at you and you feel like she knows what just happened. Why you jumped in. It’s in those keen, piercing eyes that speak of a unimaginable wisdom. She reaches a hand out to help you up, and when you stand, the last bandits have been secured and the chaos finally settles. That is when the throbbing pain in your right eye doubles you ever, the pain akin to a pinprick of ice hammering into your skull. The pain makes you sick as stars explode behind your closed eyes, and the more they dance in feverish circles, the harder you press your hands against your eyelids, trying to smother the pain by pressure. It doesn’t work.

    Unable to breathe properly, your stumble, and when you move your hands, your fingers smear something warm and wet across your cheeks.

    Someone takes in a sharp breath. “Your eye,” Byleth breathes, a hand raised but remaining hanging in the air like she’s unsure if it’s okay to touch you. In the background you hear someone calling out you’re bleeding, and it takes a few seconds to understand where you’re bleeding from. Your right eye cries blood when the pain finally knocks you out, darkness falling onto everything.

[hiddennerdworld]

When You’re Close to Me w/ Katsuki Bakugou

Warnings: some tears from characters, but still just a bunch of fluff

A/N: I love this song so much. (Go listen to it now). I feel like I didn’t do it justice but whatever. This has been in my drafts forever. Idk how it turned out but here we go. Also ik it’s kinda long, don’t come after me lmao

Are you here with me? Just looking out on the day of another dream

Bakugou just started to stir awake, the sun slowly starting to beam in the window. His blurry vision came to focus on the digital clock next to him that said 5:45 AM. He sighed and flopped his spiky head back onto his pillow. He opened his eyes again slightly as he turned to face his partner next to him. God, he still can’t believe how lucky he is. Every morning he gets a little wave of relief when he sees you by his side. He’s got a little smile on his face as he holds back from just cupping your cheek and pecking you on the forehead to tell you how much he loves you. But he thinks you’re so cute and peaceful when you sleep and knows you need rest otherwise you’ll be a little brat. Instead he wraps his arm around you, closes his eyes, and hopes he falls back asleep as his mind still focuses on you.

Well, you can’t get what you want, but you can get me. So let’s set out to sea.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby. I couldn’t get out of it. They needed all the help they could get.” Bakugou pleaded to you while holding your hands in his. It was your 3 year anniversary and he had to cancel your plans for the evening due to a villain attack downtown.

You sniffled and looked towards the ground, limply holding his hands back. “I understand. I knew what this was going to be like, being with a hero. It’s just hard sometimes you know? I miss the days where we would spend all day together. We would go to class together, eat lunch together, visit each other’s dorms whenever we wanted. I miss you, Katsuki.”

He pulled you into a hug where he ran his hand through your hair as you buried your face into his chest. “I know. I miss you so much. Being a hero is amazing, but it’s damn exhausting, especially not having you there with me. I love you, Y/N.” He said softly as he kissed the top of your head and then rested his chin on it.

“I love you too, ‘Suki. We’ll figure things out.”

“Of course, we will. We always do. You and I are a pretty kickass team if I do say so myself.”

“Huh, you really think so?” You looked up to meet his gaze. He just nodded and hummed in reply. “Well, I do too.” You then pulled him into a sweet kiss. Something you guys had done a thousand times, but it still brought butterflies to your stomach every time. You guys remained in each other’s arms for a bit longer, just swaying slightly despite the quiet.

“You know, I may have a way to bring back the old days.” Bakugou said breaking the silence.

You looked up at him. “Oh yea? Do tell, pretty boy.”

“Well..” he cleared his throat and continued in a low tone, “I was thinking maybe we could move in together. Like when we lived in the dorms, but with no Aizawa on our backs. It’s not perfect but at least I’ll get to see my beautiful idiot more often” You thought for a few seconds just staring into space. “Nevermind, it was stu-“.

“It’s perfect.” You kissed him again. “I would love that, babe.”

“Tch- well yea, of course you would it was a great idea.” He said with a shit-eating grin on his face after getting an ego boost from you agreeing with him. You just rolled your eyes back. “I would too, though.”

Cause you are my medicine when you’re close to me. When you’re close to me

Katsuki had no idea where he was. He was lying down on a bed, staring at the stark white ceiling as his vision began to clear. When he finally regained consciousness, he jolted up realizing he didn’t know was was going on. Then, you got up from your chair that was beside him in order to calm him down. He suddenly felt a sharp pain on his side. He winced and quickly put his hand on the wound.

“Oof, honey. I was trying to prevent you from doing that. Are you okay?” You said as you softly rubbed his arm.

He listened and lied back facing toward you this time. In a low, gruff voice he responded, “Yeah, I’m fine. Where the hell are we?”

“We’re in Recovery Girl’s office. After training today you ended up getting pretty beat up and passing out.”

It was all coming back to him. It was him versus Deku. One of their last days at UA and everyone was going all out. The two were moving quickly, jumping around each other trying to dodge and land hits. Eventually they started to wear down, but you know them, they will never stop. So after a while, Midoriya was able to use a little more than 10% of One for All, causing Bakugou to crash into a wall and fall to the ground. It wasn’t over yet though. He stumbled back up while doing his signature yelling. He was setting off explosions to fly up to his opponent and land a huge hit, but midway he just passed out and ended up falling on the concrete.

“Oh, yea I remember now. THAT FUCKING DEKU!! I’M GONNA MAKE HIM PAY!!” He yelled while trying to get out of bed. You then had to get up and set him back down.

“No, no, no. Katsuki, you can’t do anything right now. You need to just relax.” You said softly while pushing him back down by his shoulders.

“But I can’t lose to him! No fucking way!” He was still attempting to get up.

“You have to let it go, Suki.” You sat back down next to him and held his hands in yours. “I understand you wanting to get even, but you can’t right now. You’ve already gone way too far today.” You take a deep breath and continue, “You’ve been worrying me. Recently you’ve exhausted yourself so many times just in training alone. I get we’re close to graduating, but you need to relax, take it easy. Exerting so much energy in an emergency, I understand, but you’re just fighting ‘stupid’ Deku. You’re not going to be doing much hero work if you’re always in the hospital.” You sighed and put your head down, “I’m sorry, Suki. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

He knew what you meant. A couple months ago you were also injured badly and had to stay in the hospital for a few days after fighting a tough villain during your internship. He could barely take it. He couldn’t do anything except be by your side. All he wanted was to see you back to being the badass you usually are.

He sat up and rubbed his thumbs on your knuckles as you continued to hold hands. “Don’t worry about me, dumbass,” he said at almost a whisper, showing how ‘dumbass’ is just his way of saying he loves you. “I can take care of myself just fine…. But as much as I hate to admit it, I know you’re right.” He said with a smug grin which didn’t go away after you hit his shoulder. “Jeez, babe I’m just kidding. Point is you’re right. I can’t just go in ready to kill some people. I need to be smart about it. I need to be able to prove myself.”

“But you already have proven yourself. In more ways than one. You can show how great you are using methods that aren’t beating the shit out of Izuku, you know?”

“But those ways aren’t as fun.” You ended up slapping him on the shoulder again as he almost died laughing.

“Can you just promise me that you won’t end up in the nurses office again?”

“Alright, I’ll try my best.” He pulled you over and gave you a kiss on the forehead, “Thanks for putting up with me. I love you.”

“I love you too, even though you give me migraines.”

And surprisingly Bakugou kept up his promise, saving himself a whole lot of pain and saving yourself a whole lot of stress.

Just looking out for the day when you’re close to me.

The heat was rising as the your second year of UA was coming to a close. For the last half of the year Bakugou was slowly accepting his feelings for you and couldn’t hold back any longer. Somehow he tolerated you more than all the other extras. Hell, he even liked spending time with you and would go out of his way to do so. He didn’t want to spend the summer without you, but he didn’t know how to approach the situation. He couldn’t risk looking soft, but then again he “doesn’t care” what other extras think. It was a position he’d never been in before and he didn’t know how to handle it.

You were in the same boat. You may have had crushes before, but not like this, and definitely not like Bakugou. It didn’t take much to notice that he was somewhat nicer to you. He did schoolwork with you and didn’t smack you upside the head. He started choosing you as his partner more often in training. And never exploded when he got he annoyed with you. Maybe he was just nice to you because you were nice to him? You didn’t want to take things the wrong way and upset him. He was so predictably unpredictable. A literal ticking bomb, but somehow he was a lovable one.

The two of you were becoming unbearable. Your friends had all been planning to get together before summer break anyway, so they decided to do some meddling.

You had just joined the Bakusquad in the common room waiting to have some fun. You and Bakugou were sitting next to each other on the couch while Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima all were chilling on the floor around the coffee table. Meanwhile, Mina was nowhere to be found.

“Ugh! Where the hell is stupid Pinkie?! I wanna get this shit over with?”

“We love you too, Kacchan.” Kaminari replies and you can head Bakugou growl next to you and you try not to laugh. “I’m sure she’ll be here any sec. She had to grab something for the super special thing she planned.” He said while wiggling his eyebrows and Bakugou just rolled his eyes. Kirishima then kicked Kaminari and whisper-yelled “Dude!” Then he turned back to you guys and said with a nervous smile, “What he means is that Mina wanted this to be the perfect hang out before we have to go back home, so she has some stuff for us.”

“I sure do!” Mina yelled as she burst in the room with her arms up.

“tch- finally” Bakugou mumbled under his breath.

“We just gotta set up and then we can do the super special thing. Sero and Kirishima wanna help me grab some stuff from the kitchen? And then the rest of you can you check to make sure we have enough room in my dorm? Great!” She gave no one time to respond and everyone just got up and followed suit.

“Wait can I use the bathroom first?! I totally gotta take a whiz!” Kaminari whined.

“Yea, just hurry up! I wouldn’t want you to miss anything! Y/N and Bakugou we’ll all meet you up there in a sec!”

Sero, Kirishima, and Mina shuffled into the kitchen while Human Pikachu bolted (lol) to the bathroom. You and Bakugou weren’t as frantic as the others but you still went with it.

When you both arrived you found Mina’s room to be totally clean. “OI, PINKIE YOU’RE RO-!” Bakugou was on the way his way out but then you saw a flash of yellow and the door slamming on Bakugou’s face.

“What the-?” Bakugou tried to turned the handle but it didn’t budge. “I SWEAR IF YOUR PLAN WAS TO PRANK US IM GONNA BURN YOUR DUMBASSES ALL TO HELL!! NOW LET US OUT!!” He banged on the door, still attempting to get out, but all he heard back was some snickers and the sound of something being put in front of the door. The Pomeranian, now angered, was still aimlessly attacking the door until he heard you sigh and flop on the bed.

Sprawled out with your hands covering your face you muttered, “Ugh, I’m sorry.”

Bakugou stopped and turned around to face you being the most confused you’ve ever seen him, “Wait... you knew about this!” He started stomping over.

You quickly sat up anticipating something to happen. “No, no I didn’t. I just.. I think I know what this is about. I think this is all because of something I said to Mina.”

You move your eyes around the room afraid to make contact with the ruby eyes of the man standing above you.

“And what’s that?”

You sigh and fidget with your fingers, “Well, I may as well say it because I don’t think we’ll get out of here otherwise. I like you, Bakugou. I have for a bit now and didn’t know what to do. So I asked Mina, and this is definitely not how I wanted to handle it so I’m sorry and-“ you were interrupted by Bakugou tilting your head up which was staring at the floor while you rambled. He quickly leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You sat there wide-eyed. Not that it wasn’t good (it was), you were just thinking holy shit, my crush is on my face right now.

“Shit, I’m sorry I should’ve asked first. I just wanted to stop you because you don’t need to apologize. And I’m pretty sure you know this now but I like you too I guess. I don’t find you as annoying as I probably should. I haven’t for a while now.” He now was stood back up with a blush spread across his face and his one hand in this pocket with the other one rubbing the back of his neck. You stand up next to him and place your arms on his shoulders.

You giggle and say, “It’s okay. I enjoyed it. I was just surprised because I didn’t expect it from you. I actually think we should do it again.”

“Really?” He looked up as you nodded in response while biting your lip. You both then leaned in and kissed each other once more. It was definitely not as awkward as the first one. The kiss was sweet and passionate. When Bakugou feels something, he feels it wholeheartedly and it was evident in the way he was kissing you. He treated you as if you were an illusion that could shatter at any moment and he wasn’t going to take any of his time with you for granted.

You were suddenly interrupted by a loud banging on the door, “YOU LOVEBIRDS DONE IN THERE YET?!!! I ACTUALLY WANTED TO DO STUFF TONIGHT!!” Mina yelled through the door.

When you’re close to me

Bakugou woke up again but this time due to you booping his nose. “Good morning, Sunshine.” You whispered as you placed a kiss where had previously booped him. He just groaned and looked over to see the clock reading 8:30 AM. When he looked back your head was on his chest while you held onto him. He smiled a bit and pulled you in closer.

“Can we just stay like this all day, babe?” He said with his cheek pressed on the top of your head.

“Did I hear that correctly? Katsuki Bakugou said he wanted to stay in bed?! I must be dreaming still.”

“Tch, you’re such an idiot.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss onto the top of your head. “I love you though, you know that right?”

“Enough to help me make us some breakfast in bed?” You looked up at him with puppy eyes. He just sighed loudly and started to dramatically get out of bed. You soon followed and caught up to give him a hug as he grabbed stuff from the fridge. “I love you too, ‘Suki.”

[greenbriar-j]

5 times the prince crashed the bookstore

and the 1 time the owner(’s grandson) broke into the palace

-

One.

             The first time was an accident. Sort of. Not really.

             Prince Gabriel did need to buy new ink and maybe a new journal to replace the one Gunther accidentally threw into the fountain the last time Gabe escaped the palace. If he was so pressed, though, he could’ve asked one of his attendants to buy it for him.

             So, yeah, it was kind of an accident. Gabriel donned his “commoner” attire, hiding his immediately recognizable curls under a cap. The clothes he wore were bland, but he had the kind of figure that made every outfit stand out. He snuck out through the window, running to the bookstore to get as much time away from his princely duties as possible.

             It was so boring, all of it. The paperwork, the meetings, the girls.

             Full confession: Prince Gabriel loved girls. Adored them. Thought they were the neatest thing to be placed on the planet. He loved the neighboring princesses, their mother queens, the female attendants – he loved women. He could not for a second imagine kissing any of them.

             Kissing Gunther? That, he’d imagined several times before the guard had caught on and assigned him even more paperwork. Fucking Gunther.

             Not, Gabe grimaced, pushing open the door to the bookstore, fucking Gunther. Stop thinking about fucking Gunther. About fucking. In general. … You’re a disgrace of a prince. At least you’re not responsible for producing an heir.

             Because he was the second prince. Because he was responsible for many things, actually, while also not being responsible for a thing at all.

             “Welcome to Vanilla Pages, how can I help you today?”

             The prince’s head whipped to the sound of the voice. It was not the voice he expected to hear, the almost frail, ever-loving voice of the old Asian lady who’d always been here the last few times he came. This voice was rich, masculine, deep – and, oh, the prince was very, very gay for it.

             “Uh,” he said intelligently. “You’re new.”

             The man smiled at him. “I’m not. I’ve worked here every summer since I was ten. Granny gets a little faint in the summer. The heat and all.” A beautiful hand waved in a beautiful, dismissive gesture.

             Gabe had one thought, and it was this: He himself was feeling a little faint this summer. Somehow, behind the broad shoulders filling out the loose shirt, the scruffy ponytail, the calm yet twinkling eyes, the man was undoubtedly a big teddy bear. “Ah,” he said, again the pinnacle of intelligence towering over his whole kingdom. “What’s your name?”

             “It’s impolite to ask for someone’s name without giving yours first,” the man prompts. “Your Highness.”

             Your-? “The disguise is that bad?”

             “If I say so, will it end in a death sentence?”

             Fuck, fuck, fuck. That smile is unfair. What the fuck. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

             “Then yes, it sucks. The name’s Phuong.”

             “Oh, word? Good name.” I did not just say that. Who responds to introductions with oh, word?

             Gabe could not stand to make any more of a scene. This was fun. It was also very embarrassing. He grabbed a journal without really examining it, checking out and running across the street to the bakery.

             Gunther picked him up there after his own round of flirting with the baker’s daughter. There would probably be a wedding soon. Depending. The guard seemed surprised that the prince turned up on his own, but the prince thought nothing of it. He thought nothing at all.

             Not about the name Phuong.

             Not about those broad shoulders and muscular arms left on full display. The wide, toothy grin.

             Not anything at all.

 Two.

             The second time was a detour.

             “Gabe, I mean this in the most respectful way, but if you do not finish writing a birthday card to the prince of [other kingdom, idk], we will be having a war council within the month.”

             “Gunther, he can’t even read. Why does it matter?” Tossing his head back and stretching his legs out, he acted like the brat he only was for Gunther.

             The guard delivered a withering glare without adjusting his rigid stance. Even the prince has to admit that Gunther seemed to be experiencing physical repercussions for his job. In just a month, the prince had aged his friend by a year, or so it seemed.

             Reluctantly, Gabe held in every protest dangling on the edge of his tongue and penned a birthday note to the two year old prince. “We have to deliver this in person?”

             “Yes.”

             Gabe groaned. He could not think of a prospect he hated more. In a month, he had not managed to gather enough poise to revisit his beloved Phuong at the bookstore. He merely whimpered the name in his sleep, according to an unusually smug Gunter. And now, to be separated by this meaningless trek?

             “To the post, Gabe. Not to [neighboring kingdom].”

             Ever the model prince, Gabriel drew himself upright immediately. “The post, you say,” he repeated regally. “The one three streets away from the bookstore.”

             “That’s the one.” His guard, his best friend, smiled tightly. “I intend to propose along the way, and your stringing this out is not helping my nerves.”

             His royal eyes wider than saucers, Gabe ruffled all of his curls in distress and excitement. “Propose! Why didn’t you say so, you big baboon?”

             “You were sulking, Highness.” Gunther’s smile is wry, only a little amused.

             “I most certainly was not. Agh, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

             In his rush, he sustained more injury to his hands that day than he had in the past year.

 -

             “So…” Phuong glanced at Gabe’s hands, a quick flicker of dark brown eyes. “What happened to your hands?”

             Prince Gabriel hid the offending bandaged digits behind his back. “A mishap while writing the world’s most useless letter.”

             “Oh?”

             “Its recipient can’t even read. OH!” Without thinking, Gabe grabbed at Phuong’s shirt, tugging in his hasty excitement. “He’s doing it, he’s-!”

             He turned, only to find his face alarmingly close to Phuong’s. Why was the other man looking at him anyway? Did it matter?

             The moment was broken too soon by a holler across the street. “GABE! SHE SAID YES!”

             “OF COURSE SHE DID, YOU BABOON!” He fired back, pretending not to feel the heat rising inside him from the sudden close proximity. “He’s going to look so hot at his wedding,” Gabe muttered dreamily, still clinging with bandaged fingertips to Phuong’s shirt.

             “I have something for you,” Phuong said suddenly. “I wasn’t sure when you would come back, but I have something.”

             It was the best news the prince had heard all day. Seeing Phuong while getting his work done and receiving a gift? Only the gods could provide such a setup.

             He was right, for once, that it was too good to be true. Phuong deposited a box of fanmail in the prince’s arms and turned away without a word.

 Three.

             The third time was a disaster.

             “Did you read them?” Phuong asked after the initial pleasantries had been exchanged.

             “The letters?” Gabe leaned on the counter. “Burned them.” He grinned, but back-pedaled when the joke falls flat.

             Phuong swallowed, then busied himself wiping down the counter. “You burned them?”

             “If I read every piece of fanmail I ever got, I wouldn’t survive, Phuong.”

             “I see. I suppose- No, never mind.”

             While he hadn’t burned them, Gabe hadn’t read them either. He had no reason to read confessions of love from women who didn’t stand a chance with him because 1) he didn’t like women like that and 2) he only had a certain pool of suitors to choose from. This thing he was perpetuating with Phuong… It would burn him eventually. But Phuong was still very, very hot, and Gabe was still very, very gay.

             There was no promise of reciprocated anything from the clerk. He was simply doing his job, and Gabe was just a guy that came in a little too often for a little too long. That was all.

             “What’s this about, then? Was there one I should have read? Is it from your sister?”

             “I don’t have a sister.”

             “Your cousin?”

             “Your Highness,” Phuong looks at him, finally. Gabe doesn’t enjoy it, though. Not the way the address comes out so clinical, so distant. “All the letters had the same handwriting. My handwriting.”

             The prince’s throat goes dry. “What?” He whispers.

             “I’m closing the shop early today,” the other man responds in that same distant voice. “You’ll need to leave, Your Highness.”

             Stunned, Gabe returns to the palace.

 -

             Each of the letters is one sentence long.

I hope this finds you well, Your Highness.

 The stars in your eyes shine brighter than mine, yet belong to the same single sky.

You’re a brat.

Gunther came to the bakery today; I’m strangely disappointed by your absence.

A heartless one, you turned out to be.

The stars in your eyes shine on different continents than mine, it seems.

 Foolish of me to write letters to someone I’ve only met once.

Why do I think of you so often, my most hated daydream?

              There’s one for every day of the month Gabe avoided Vanilla Pages.

             “Gunther?” He calls into the air. A maid scurries in instead, apologizing for the absence of his guard, a different guard trailing in behind her. “It’s fine. Will you bring me some alcohol?”

 Four.

             The fourth time was a mistake.

             The very same night, a very drunk Gabe stumbled through the streets. It would be a prime night for assassination, if anyone wanted to put him out of his misery. A shame that no one did.

             Mindless feet guided him back to the bookstore. Fruitlessly, he banged on the shut and bolted door.  

             An angry Gunther dragged him home, and Phuong was never the wiser.

 Five.

             The fifth time was purposeful.

            “Your engagement was decided today.”

             Hollow-eyed, Prince Gabriel blinked at the captain of his guard – a married man now. The wedding had been beautiful. As expected. “My what?”

             “Your engagement, Highness. She’s a very pretty woman, if it’s any consolation.”

             “It’s not.”

             “Phuong is also in very bad shape, if it’s any consolation. Rea said so.”

             “It’s not.” The words came muffled by the pair of hands covering the prince’s face. It was enough that he felt bad about everything. There was really no reason both of them should feel awful. “Gunther, clear my schedule for the next hour. I’m going to the bookstore.”

             “You’re engaged now.”

             “I’m aware. Betrothed men ought to tell other suitors when they’re off the market.”

             The intention is clear, and Gunther seems upset. Unreasonably so. “Your Highness-”

             “I have to, Gunther. I’m going to make him hate me so he can move on faster.”

             “But you-”

             “I always knew how this would end. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

             He was anything but okay. He was gay and in love and engaged to a beautiful woman who deserved the kind of love he could never give her because he was gay and desperately in love with someone else.

             Each solemn step of the way, he bid farewell to each part of the man he had inexplicably grown to love. Goodbye, beautiful hair. Goodbye, kind heart. Goodbye, brown eyes. Goodbye, biceps; goodbye, thighs. Goodbye, hands. Goodbye, stupid love letters.

             He walked in, announced his engagement to the ground, and fled before he could see the other man’s reaction.

 One.

             Phuong considered his life in chapters.

             They were typically large, vague categories of his life that were boring and tedious to live through. Childhood. Teenage years. Adulthood. Gabe. It was only this latest chapter that made any difference in anything he thought.

             Before Gabe, life was dull. Every day, the same. After him, every day was painful – but the good kind of painful that perhaps would lead to something. The second prince bore the name of the messenger of the lord, and that had to count for something, didn’t it?

             Apparently not. For Gabe to cut him off so quickly… If he had hoped to give Phuong any kind of conclusion about what they were and what they meant to each other, he failed spectacularly.

             After milling around Rea’s bakery for half the day, he finally called in his favor. “Rea, can I… Uhm…”

             “If you wait until sundown, Gunther will come home for dinner, and he can take you straight to the brat himself,” she replied before he finished the thought. “Just tell him how you feel, and if it goes bad, you can have free cakes for a week.”

             “I’ll get fat and unattractive.”

             “Honey,” she said in that pitying tone he’d so hoped to avoid.

             “Can I… Have a free cake now?”

 -

             Prince Gabriel and Gabe were very different people, and while Phuong had known this, it didn’t really dawn on him until he saw it with his own two eyes.

             Gabe – his Gabe – smiled and laughed at everything, had horrible posture because he was always trying to get that tiny bit closer to Phuong, and dressed horribly because he thought it’d work as a disguise.

             Prince Gabriel wore tailored clothes that made Phuong a little dizzy because of how they accentuated a man who didn’t need accentuating at all. Prince Gabriel spoke with authority and walked with it, too. He oozed it.

             Phuong didn’t know if this made his job any easier.

             The moment the door shut behind him, the prince groaned and stretched and stripped off his clothes from the day. He flopped face-first on the bed like a child and immediately called for the captain of his guard.

             “Is it okay that I’m here instead?” Phuong said softly.

             Unexpectedly, the prince jumped ten feet in the air. “Phuong?”

             A complicated series of expressions crossed the prince’s face. He looked like he wanted to be upset, but couldn’t, and in the end, he started to cry, reaching for Phuong with grabby hands and a bleeding heart. What a foolish prince, to wound himself like this, when he really didn’t need to be wounded at all.

             “Your eyes shine with stars that are different from mine, but they share the same sky,” Phuong murmured, climbing into the prince’s bed and pulling him into a clumsy embrace. “If you had read that, I thought you’d have understood.”

             “It’s not the same as telling me upfront. I can’t bank my decisions on I think.”

             “I know.”

             And the prince only cried more. This was all his heart had ever wanted, but it still didn’t tell his mind what to do. Could he afford to forfeit his engagement? Would he have to forfeit Phuong again, knowing what he knew now?

             He didn’t know. He didn’t care yet. It was hard to care with Phuong’s finger sliding through his curls, with feathery touches of lips to his forehead.

             “Gabe.”

             “Hm?”

             “I really, really like you. But I get it if you still have to let me go.”

             Gabe tightened his arms around Phuong. “I won’t. I don’t want to.”

             “Okay.”

Spoiler alert: I have no idea how to actually end this but I believe they figure out their way to get together and live happily ever after bc that was the whole point of this but I really can’t be bothered to write it out whoops

[kkeidawrites]

Ice and Steel

A forewarning: Mentions of child abuse, violence, cruelty towards a child, and familial dispute. If this bothers you please do not read ahead. Thank you on behalf of p3achyheartz and blackreaderstation.

——————————————————————————

Chapter 7: A Bruised Heart; Hazel’s Estranged Upbringing

Flashback..

Hazel’s knees met the harsh ground below her and the feeling of blood beginning to seep through the scrape on her once healed scabs surfaced once more.

The taunting laughter from her older brothers made the young girl glare at the ground below her.

“We told you you wouldn’t be able keep up with us! Now look at you!” Akito teased as Daiki laughed.

“You should just stay down like a good little girl!” Daiki chimes in. Hazel’s small fists grip the rocks that laid dormant below her. She made sure that her hands hid the grey stones as she looked up at her brothers defiantly.

“Good little girl?” She clumsily returned to her feet as she continued to glare at her brothers. Her sudden question made them give her a confused look as Hazel gritted her snaggle tooth teeth.

“I’ll show you what ‘a good little girl’ can do!”

Her arms began turning like a wheel as she threw the stones at their intended targets: Daiki and Akito. The boys grunted from the pain of the stones and one ended up hitting Akito in the eye.

He grunts from the pain and falls to his knees clutching his right eye.

“Akito!” Daiki cries out as he kneeled to his brothers side. Blood was falling from the right side of his head and Daiki turned a murderous glare to their younger sibling. Hazel panted from her onslaught and straightened her back for a fight.

“You little!” Daiki storms over to Hazel and grabs the scruff of her pink kimono, bringing her face close to his.

“You’re going to pay for that!” He threatened and Hazel turns her head away.

“If it’s to get away from smell coming from your rancid upper lip, I’ll take anything.” Hazel says back, sassily. Daiki blushes in embarrassment and grits his teeth as he throws Hazel into a tree. Her back hit the rough bark harshly and she grunted as her body slid down to the grass below her.

She grunted in pain rubbing her back, then two shadows crept up in front of her and she looked up to see Daiki and Akito who was holding his bleeding forehead, glare down at her.

“You want to be a boy so bad? We’ll teach you why boys are always fighting then.” Akito spoke up as he cracked his knuckles. Was that supposed to scare her?

“Well what are you waiting for? An invitation?” She got back to her feet and into a fighting stance.

“I’m ready when you are.” She says.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, Hazel had got the short end of the stick after her fight with her brothers. It took maybe five or six guards to break all three children and Hazel escaped in time to avoid any questions from them. Albeit, she served enough punches and kicks in to break a couple of ribs on each brother and Akito’s head was going to be ringing a bit more than normal. However, it didn’t help the fact that she was limping terribly on her way back to her room.

She held the wall as she hobbles to her room and just when her day couldn’t get any worse, the wicked witch and her devil spawn were walking the same halls as she was.

Rei’s face scrunched up in displeasure as she noticed Hazel’s limping form pass her. Rei gave her a look and then noticed a bit of blood on the younger girl’s hands.

“Fighting again, brat?” Rei asked. Hazel ignored her as she continued her limp. Her hellspawn stomped her right foot at the disrespect.

“My mother is talking to you!”

“And?” Hazel glared at the girl and her step sister hid behind her mother from the scary look.

“It’s quite alright, dear. The little brat can continue limping. I’ll make sure she doesn’t receive any medical assistance from anyone. Let the animal heal on her own.” Rei smirked evilly. Her hellspawn smirked and stuck her tongue out at Hazel but the red haired girl grinned sinisterly.

“That’s fine. But, you should see your sons, they probably need the entire medical ward after what I laid on them today. I’m pretty sure Akito has a concussion right now.” Hazel says and Rei’s eyes widened then she frowns angrily.

“What did you do to my sons, you little wretch!”

“They couldn’t handle what I had and paid the price.” Hazel limped the rest of the way to her room as Rei and her brat rushed away to see to their other relatives.

That night, Hazel applied the gauze to the wounds on her arms then wrapped it up in the bandages. She had to steal these things from the medical ward because, she was forbidden by her father to have any of her wounds tended to as punishment for approaching him about wanting to learn to fight with her brothers.

Hazel grunts from the pain as she uses her teeth to cut off the bandage. Her brow furrows in concentration as she wraps her very swollen ankle up. It was no doubt sprained and it looks like she’ll need a crutch. Again.

“Just they wait,” she mutters as she stashed her medical supplies in a secret compartment by her bed.

“I’ll show them who their messing with and then they’ll be bowing at my feet!” She vowed.

End of Flashback

“Miss Hazel? Miss Hazel?” Hazel’s eyes refocused on her sake cup on her lap then shifted her gaze to Sanjiro who was sitting next to her with a concerned look.

“Are you alright, Miss Hazel?” He asked.

Hazel smiled to him and nods, rising to her feet and chugging her sake. With a pleased sigh, she placed a hand on Sanjiro’s shoulder and motioned him into their new room.

“I’m just fine, Sanjiro. Let’s go get something to eat, I know you’re still hungry, right?”

“Well, yes but-”

“Come on, come on! I want more stuffed dumplings!” Hazel pushes him inside and closes the shoji door behind them.

The kotatsu was larger than the last and this allowed more food to be piled on top of it. Toru and the twins were downing more food in their stomachs as Hazel snagged a pork dumpling, taking a huge bite. She moans in delight but, Sanjiro noticed how distracted she was when they were sitting on the balcony.

“Come on Sanjiro,” Hazel bit into her dumpling again as she spoke with a mouthful.

“The food will be gone and I’m not having any kids in my care go hungry!” She tells him, then picks up a bowl of ramen and pushes it into his chest. Sanjiro hesitantly grabbed the bowl and slowly began eating.

However, their dinner was interrupted when the shoji door opened and everyone but Hazel turned around to see who had entered the suite. Takuna gave his brothers a once over then silently made his way over to Sanjiro’s side, sitting down cross legged.

“Glad you finally decided to join us, Takuna. Steamed bean bun?” Hazel asked as she slurped up some udon while holding out a bean bun to the boy. Takuna takes the bun from her hands and quietly begins eating.

“Where have you been?” Sanjiro asked his younger brother.

“Nowhere.” The buzz cut boy replies, bored.

“Well, I’m glad your back big brother! We have more food here than the last place and the best part is, this hotel has a never ending food staff. So it’s an all you can eat.” Toru says as he bites into a chicken leg.

“Hm.” Was Takuna’s bored response. Toru deflated slightly and Hazel raised an eyebrow. She then felt a strange presence outside and turned her gaze back to the brothers.

“You guys continue eating. I’m going to enjoy the rest of my sake.” Hazel picks up her jug of sake and heads back to the balcony.

She closed the shoji door behind her and sat down in the same spot once more, pouring another cup of liquor.

“You’ve got some nerve showing your face here.” Hazel throws back her drink and sighs softly.

The clacking of sandals sound to her left and her side eye catches that of the infamous Surgeon of Death. A pirate from North Blue and the captain and doctor of the Heart Pirates: Trafalgar D. Water Law.

His nervous gaze keep up with Hazel’s deadly one and he puts his hand in his kimono, trying to act cool.

“Long time no see…Red Angel.

End of Chapter

——————————————————————————

Heyyy everyone, I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written a story but, I’ve been doing some things on the side but, as a way to start off a new month I decided to give you all a chapter from Ice and Steel.

Also, some good news is in order! I have finally made an account on Archive of Our Own! It’s the same name as my tumblr so be sure to check that out and subscribe to my account! And you may find something new there as well. -wink- -wink- Also, I don’t remember if I told y’all before but, my inbox is open if you want a request just head over to Masterlist 1 or 2, follow the rules stated and ask away in my inbox! I will get to your request as soon as I can!

However with good news there is bad news as well. I am currently taking new classes for this summer and will have almost little to no time to write for a couple of months, but! That will not stop me from giving you guys a chapter or two here and there! So, just bear with me and know that no matter what SCHOOL WILL COME FIRST OVER EVERYTHING! Periodt.

Also if you see that the other chapters are not posted from either this story or the others, it is because I’m so lazy to put them all on the chapters but, I promise if you search in the search bar on my account you will find the other chapters.

But, that is all I have for you guys, I want to thank @p3achyheartz, @demigoddessqueens, @smol-bluberri and many others I have not listed for supporting me this far in the game, and be sure to show some love to their tumblrs as well!

[seokjinsdisciple]

Enemy

johnny x reader (literally all smut, i dont know what to say)

you absolutely, 100% loathe johnny suh. what happens when you find yourself stuck in an elevator with him?

I FINALLY WROTE PART TWO

UNEDITED

word count: 3k (johnny has me messed up this comeback, ok?)

warnings: language, thigh-riding, fingering, elevator sex, degradation, choking, hair-pulling, overuse of the word kitten, johnny eats his cum from you, theres probably more because suddenly im a whore for johnny, this is just a cesspool ok

You were rushing back home, you had forgotten your textbook for your biology class, and your professor would be using problems from it all lecture. You didn’t want to have to deal with her wrath by not bringing it with you. So here you were, sprinting through the streets in the hot summer air, with the sun beating down on you as you headed towards your apartment. You caught your breath as you strolled into the air-conditioned lobby, groaning as the elevator doors started to close. You love your apartment, you really did, but the elevator was so slow, and someone was moving in today, making it almost impossible to catch. And you didn’t want to have to take the stairs up to your 12th-floor apartment. 

“Please hold the elevator,” you yelled as you ran, slipping inside just before the doors closed. As you turned to press your floor, you noticed who you were sharing an elevator with. To be more specific, you noticed who you were sharing the elevator with who was also holding a moving box. Johnny Suh stood before you. Annoying, attractive Johnny Suh. 

Johnny just stared at you, mischief in his eyes and he rested the box he was holding on his hip and gave a little wave in your direction. 

“Are you following me or something, Suh?” you asked, groaning as you realized the 11th-floor button was already lit up. 

“In your dreams, nerd,” he laughed, leaning his head back against the elevator wall. You stood as far away from him as you could, putting in your headphones and praying that he would leave you alone. You and Johnny were self-proclaimed enemies. He was in your science class the very first semester of your freshman year, and when you were assigned together for a group project, your feelings were set in stone. Not only did he spend the whole time bothering you, but he ended up not doing any work, leaving you to finish the project by yourself. After that, it seemed like he followed you around, in fact, this was the first semester since you started college that you didn't have a single class together. Yet here he was, moving into your apartment building and most likely on your floor. 

You would be less annoyed by him if you didn’t find him as attractive as you did. He bothers you all of the time, but you still had your fair share of angry sex wet dreams that he was the star of. You shook those thoughts from your mind as you glanced at Johnny, he was smirking at you, something you just rolled your eyes at. 

“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” he asked, setting down the box and slipping his hands in his pockets. You glanced at the floor count of the elevator, groaning as you realized you were only on floor four. 

“I hate these elevators,” you mumbled, ignoring the fact that Johnny was getting closer to where you stood. 

“You’re blushing pretty hard, nerd. Whatcha thinking about?” he grinned at you, lowering his face so that he was staring at your profile. You refused to turn to look at him. Johnny would never fail to get on your nerves, it's as if he had a gift for it. You were just praying, hoping that this whole elevator ride would be over soon. At that moment, the elevator shook, dropping a little bit and, with a loud screech, jerking to a stop. 

Johnny’s body pushed you into the wall, the force of the stop causing you both to stumble. He quickly got off of you, curse words falling from his lips as the lights in the elevator flickered. 

“Why?” you groaned, your voice rising as the lights came back on, “fuck, Johnny, what the hell do we do?”

“I don't know! You are supposed to be the smart one!!” he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, his voice clearly showing how freaked out he was. 

“God, this is probably because you’ve been using the elevators all day to move-in.”

“What was I supposed to do? Carry my couch up 11 flights of stairs by myself?” Johnny hissed back, kicking the box near his feet. 

“Why are you even moving in anyways, get kicked out of your frat house?” You rolled your eyes, you wouldn’t be stuck in this elevator if it wasn't for him. 

“You don’t know a single thing about me nerd, so I suggest you shut up,” Johnny snarled, sitting on the opposite side of the elevator. You followed his lead, sitting against the wall across from him. Neither one of you looking at the other. 

You desperately checked your phone, letting out another sigh as no service flashed at the top of your screen. 

“Check your phone to see if you have service,” you demanded, watching hopefully as Johnny pulled his phone out, pressing the power button once. 

“It’s dead,” he said, letting his head fall back onto the wall with a thud. 

Twenty minutes after the alarm button on the elevator was pressed you feel the first bead of sweat form on your forehead. You took a deep breath in, and tried your best to ignore the growing temperature of the room. You took a quick glance at Johnny, he was clearly feeling the heat too. 

“Is it getting hotter?” you asked, fanning yourself with a folder you had in your backpack. 

“The air conditioning must’ve broken too,” Johnny said, meeting your eyes for a second before muttering, “I can’t stand this anymore.”

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets as he threw his shirt off, smirking at your expression and quirking his eyebrow.

Your eyes were drawn immediately to his sculpted abs, his chest somewhat sweaty but just the perfect amount. You coughed a little, trying to cover up your blatant staring but Johnny just laughed at you, spreading his legs and giving you a better view. 

“Fuck off, Johnny,” you rolled your eyes, looking away from his toned stomach. 

“Please, nerd, the least I can do is give you a free show,” he chuckled, running his hand through his slightly sweaty hair, “You seem to be enjoying it anyway, so why should I stop?”

“I only looked because you are sweating and smell gross,” you replied easily, looking away before your eyes dropped any further. 

“Whatever you have to convince yourself of,” Johnny winked at you, silence filling the elevator again. 

If you thought it was hot before, it was exponentially hotter now. Your mind not able to get the image of Johnny’s perfectly sculpted body and how his muscles would look as he... enough. You shook those thoughts from your head, the stickiness growing between your thighs despite your efforts to calm down. 

It was like Johnny knew what he was doing to you. He kept biting his lips, running his hand through his hair, and worst of all he turned his groans into moans. You had every desire to cover your ears and pray to God for forgiveness. But it was too late. Your thoughts had already descended into a place that you couldn’t recover from without… taking care of some things. 

You tried to keep cool, but your rising body temperature is due more to a handsome young man than the broken ac. It was becoming too much for you to bear, the heat and tension filling the elevator finally sending you over the edge. 

“Fuck it,” you muttered, throwing your shirt off and practically moaning as cool air hit your tummy. 

You glanced at Johnny, his gaze firmly set on your black lace bra, his tongue poking out as he readjusted himself on the floor. 

“Want a free show?” you asked, smirk mimicking his own when he had asked a similar question earlier. 

“Are you trying to seduce me now, nerd?” Johnny’s voice practically growled, his voice now gravelly and his eyes burning into the side of your head. 

“I don’t think it would take much of an effort,” you smirked, meeting his darkening eyes. 

“Oh really?” he asked, an eyebrow rising at your statement, “I don’t think I’d have to work that hard either.”

You just scoffed at his statement, more heat filling your body as you thought about what his words could mean. 

“What makes you think I’d be that easy, hm?” You shot back, gulping as Johnny let out a laugh. 

“Because I can see the wetness through your shorts love,” he winked, you body immediately flushing hotter, “gray looks good on you.”

“Shut up,” you snapped, moving your legs so you were covered, “It’s not like I can’t see the tent in your shorts.”

“Then come take care of it for me?” Johnny asked, spreading his legs as an invitation. 

“W-what?” you questioned, your heart beating much faster than it had been a moment beforehand. 

“Oh don’t get shy on me now, kitten,” Johnny smirked, “you’ve been so outspoken and such a little brat today. No need to become speechless now.”

“Ok, ha. Ha. Very funny Johnny,” you rolled your eyes, “jokes over. You can quit messing with me.”

Johnny just tsked at this, his voice sending an immediate jolt to your core,“It’s too bad, kitten, I really could’ve helped you with your little problem.”

You both sat in silence for a minute or two, the urge to touch yourself growing the more you thought about the words Johnny had spoken to you only a minute before. You fidgeted in your spot, avoiding Johnny’s gaze and praying that someone, anyone would open those elevator doors so you could go home and pass out against your vibrator. Your fingers played with the hem of your shorts, a moan threatening to spill from your mouth at even the slightest touch.

“Fuck,” Johnny whispered, grabbing your hand in his own and pulling you onto his lap, “If you wanna cum, ride my thigh.”

You squirmed on his lap, your first instinct to slap him and crawl back to your side of the elevator, but your slight movement was just enough friction for you self control to snap. You buried your head into his shoulder as you situated yourself against his thigh, your hips gently rolling against his flesh. His hands found their way onto your hips, guiding you back and forth to increase your pace. You whined against his collarbone, the pleasure exactly the kind of relief that you needed. 

“I knew you could be good, kitten,” Johnny praised, forcing your hips down further and tensing his thigh, a full-blown moan leaving your mouth then. 

“Sh-shut up,” you moaned, “No talking.”

Johnny landed a swift slap on your ass then, the sting still felt through your shorts, “You don’t make the rules,” he growled, stopping your hips and shoving your shorts and underwear down. He slipped a finger between your folds, a groan leaving his mouth as he stared at your core. He met your eyes, his face turning from horny to serious. 

“Do you want to do this?” He whispered, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. 

“God, please Johnny. If you don’t fuck me right now, we really are going to become enemies,” you begged, hands finding their way to the waistband of his shorts and pulling them down. Johnny took no more than a second to snap back into his previous persona, a growl leaving his throat as he grabbed both of your hands with one of his. 

“Do you really think you deserve my cock?” He asked, “You’ve been such a little brat, why should I help you, hm?”

“Johnny please,” you begged, wriggling in his grasp, your hips trying to find some sort of friction. 

“Even now you are just a needy little slut, trying to get off,” he whispered, a groan leaving your lips as another slap landed on your ass, “Poor little kitten, can’t come on her own, needs someone's help.”

You whined as Johnny flipped you over gently, balling up his shirt and using it as a pillow for your head.  Then he kissed you, and not surprisingly to you, he was a really good kisser. His passion and desire were clear as he kissed you, making the locking of your lips a good kind of messy. 

He dipped his fingers into your heat as he kissed you, stretching your lips apart so that you would adjust to him more easily. He quieted your moans with his mouth, pulling away briefly to press a kiss to your temple and shimmy his shorts off. 

Johnny cupped your face once again staring into your eyes and asking a silent question. You nodded in response but he just tucked a piece of your hair behind your ears and said, “I need words, please.”

“Johnny please, I want this,” you spoke quietly, and that was enough for him to press another kiss on your lips and sink himself into you. You both groaned at the feeling, pleasure immediately building as he bottomed out. 

Johnny’s hand caressed down your face until it made its way around your throat. Johnny’s eyes flickered to yours in order to sense any sort of discomfort, but he practically growled as your eyes rolled back. He tightened his grip slightly, sending just the right amount of pleasure through you. 

“I always knew you were a slut, like when your hole is filled and you can’t breathe, hm?”

You nodded, a whine tearing from your throat as he reached his other hand in between your bodies and made contact with your bud. His thrusts were deep, and you swear the elevator was shaking, but you didn’t care. Pleasure surrounded you, Johnny’s hand wrapped around your throat couldn’t even stop the moans from leaving your mouth. 

The coil in your belly was tightening, and as Johnny rubbed at your clit and hit spots within you that no one had ever hit, you came. Your whole body spasming and your eyes rolling back into your head. Johnny moved his hands up and down your sides, soothing you as he continued to thrust. When he pulled out of you, a whine tore through your throat, not ready to let go of the fullness that his cock provided. 

“Don’t worry kitten, I’m not done with you yet,” he smirked, holding out a hand in order to help you move around, “Hands and knees, now.”

You complied easily, used to taking orders from him now and wanting him to fill you up again. You let him readjust you, and when he pushed himself inside you couldn’t help but tighten around him. Johnny cursed, gripping your hips tightly and thrusting harshly to try and get you to relax. When you did, he landed a sharp smack on your ass, a moan leaving your lips before you could stop it. 

“I never gave you permission to come kitten,” Johnny said, his breath uneven but his trusts staying strong. He grabbed a handful of your hair pulling it just hard enough to send another bolt of pleasure through you. His hand hit you again, your eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure. 

“So tight, kitten,” he grunted, his hips rocking into yours at a monstrous pace, “like being used?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, too caught up in the pleasure to think about who you were saying that to.

His pace was getting more erratic, and his grunts were becoming louder when he reached his hand around you and attached it again to your sensitive bud. 

“Cum, YN,” he demanded, his hand making up for the inconsistent rocking of his hips. You came easily, not realizing you were as close as you were. With your heat tightening into a vice grip around Johnny’s length, he came. The twitch of his cock inside you causing another spasm around him. He hissed, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder as he pulled out. 

“You ok?” He asked, helping you sit on your bum and rubbing your sore knees, gently. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to even out your breathing, and that's when he struck. 

You felt his tongue lapping at your sensitive core, your eyes shooting open at the sudden pleasure. 

“Johnny what are you-” You started, but a long swipe of his tongue made you shut up. 

“I’m cleaning up,” he added, the mischievous grin that he always wore was back on his face. He buried himself back into your core, spreading your lips with his fingers and licking into your heat. 

None of the people you had ever been with had made you cum twice, but here you were building up into a third high. This one seemed to be more due to the fact that Johnny was eating his own cum from inside you. A thought that made your heat pulse. As Johnny licked, he rubbed your extremely sensitive clit with his index finger. He was gentle and attentive to anything he did that seemed to be too much for you. He resumed his focus on your clit after intertwining his hand with your own, allowing you to squeeze it as you came once again on his tongue. He licked you through your orgasm, your mind completely blanking as the pleasure overtook you. When you were done, he pulled you onto his lap, pressing a kiss to your nose and helping you fix your hair. He helped you pull your clothes back on, and when the door to the elevator was pried open, he hid you from the view of the whistling men who had come to save you. Johnny had never been so sweet with you, and as he helped you inside your apartment and into your bed, only one thought was running through your head. 

Maybe you didn’t mind having Johnny Suh as your new next-door neighbor at all.

[outerbonks]

complicated - jj maybank

Thanks for all the love on my last post, I really appreciate it ♡ let me know what you think of this one and if you think I should make more parts :)

Summary: You're a kook and JJ doesn't like you at all. That's what he wants everyone to believe anyway.

Word count: +2K

Warning (s): swearing, drinking

Masterlist ♡

Music pumped through the boneyard as you danced around with your friends, being a kook, you tried to avoid being on the pogue side of the island as much as possible, but keggers in the boneyard were impossible to pass up.

For the past fifteen minutes you'd been lost in the music, dancing and singing, admittedly buzzed from all of the cheap beer you'd drank throughout the night.

"Y/n! You came!" A voice called from behind you and you whipped around to see your friend Kie smiling brightly at you.

Giving her a big hug and returning her smile you nodded, "Yeah, great party!"

Kie was a sweetheart, you'd met her in school after her falling out with Sarah Cameron in the ninth grade, she was a breath of fresh air compared to some of the other snobs that attended the private high school and you both got along like a house on fire.

There was one issue with hanging out with her outside of school though. That issue was that her friends hated you- well, not all of them, only one of them actually, but he really really really didn't like you.

JJ Maybank has been a dick to you ever since he first met you. You don't remember doing anything to have pissed the hotheaded boy off but you never let his hostility fly.

Whenever he had something to quip at you, you had something just as snarky to throw back in his face. He didn't know anything about you yet felt the need to run his mouth about you as if he knew all of your deepest darkest secrets, when in reality the boy probably didn't even know your middle name.

At the beginning of your little rivalry with JJ, you had tried to be the bigger person and show him that you weren't like the other kooks. Of course he was having none of it.

So when Kie grabbed your hand and exclaimed, "Come sit with me and my friends!" Your stomach dropped and even in your tipsy state you knew that it wasn't a good idea.

"I dunno, Kie. I don't wanna fight with anyone tonight…" You trailed off with a pout, you'd had a shitty week at work and tonight was supposed to allow you to unwind and not be stressed out by a boy who hated you for reasons you didn't even know.

"Look, I'll handle JJ if he says anything okay? Just please come on, John B said he missed you." Kie pleaded with you, a triumphant 'yes' exiting her mouth when you sighed in defeat and began walking with her in the direction of her friends.

When you got to the boys who were all sat on logs, John B perked up, the tall boy immediately standing up to greet you with a hug.

"I haven't seen you in forever! Why haven't you been hanging out?" John B asked you with a concerned face, holding you at arms length.

"We've been super swamped at work, lots of new people coming in for the summer so I picked up a few extra shifts to help out." You explained to him but turned your face in the direction where the scoff had just come from.

"As if you need any more money than you already get from mommy and daddy." JJ grumbled sarcastically, looking to get a rise out of you.

You meant what you said to Kie earlier about not wanting to get in a fight, you were too tired.

"It's volunteer work, actually." You muttered bitterly before taking a seat between Kie and John B.

Most of your weekends and now weekdays since school ended for summer were spent volunteering at the old folks home on figure eight. It wasn't too stressful, you get paired up with an old person and you keep them company for the day, play board games and do things for them. It doesn't sound so bad, is exactly what you were thinking when you applied for it, but the hours were long and the nurses that worked there were assholes.

You'd dealt with enough snarky douche bags this week, you didn't want to have to deal with the blond boy too. You'd be using energy you just didn't have.

Luckily the conversation moved on quickly and you were all laughing at something Pope said.

"Do you want another beer?" John B asked you, standing up.

"No thanks. I think I've had enough." You giggled up at him and he nodded his head in agreement with a smile before heading to the keg.

Once he left, JJ wasted no time in stealing his seat and plopping down beside you.

You let out an irritated sigh but didn't say anything, you knew what was about to happen.

"Want a hit?" He asked, showing you the joint he'd rolled. You couldn't help but look at him in confusion, him offering you anything other than a snide remark was uncharacteristic.

"I guess." You responded unsurely, only to get a click of his tongue in return, "Damn sucks you don't have a joint then."

In all fairness you should've seen it coming. Rolling your eyes you turned your face away from him as he lit up the weed.

While you were ignoring JJ and enjoying a conversation with Pope and Kie you were interrupted by a Touron who tapped you on the shoulder.

"Hey." You couldn't lie, the boy standing in front of you with a shy smile on his face was gorgeous.

You smiled brightly, looking up at him from your spot, "Hi there."

JJ watched with narrow eyes as the guy rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to dance with me for a bit?"

Before you could even respond, JJ threw an arm around your shoulder casually and looked at the poor boy dead in the eyes, "No. She doesn't."

It was your turn to narrow your eyes as the boy scurried away.

"What the fuck?" You seethed at JJ, knocking his hand off your shoulder and turning to face him.

The boy in question shrugged his shoulders innocently, "Didn't think you wanted to dance."

"How the hell would you know what I want? You don't even know me." The words were laced in venom and it was clear that you'd finally had enough, not allowing the blue eyed boy to get a word in as you exploded.

"I get it, ok? You hate me and that's fine. But don't for a second pretend to know what I'm about because you don't know shit about me." Your jaw was clenched and you delivered your words through gritted teeth, poking his chest roughly as you spoke.

JJ scoffed out a laugh, grabbing your wrist to stop your relentless poking, "I know exactly what you're about, princess."

Looking at him with pursed lips you snatched your wrist from his grasp and crossed your arms over chest, "Tell me." The demand came out stone cold and JJ's face was covered in confusion, "What?"

"Tell me what I'm about." The boy stared at you in bewilderment before cocking his head to the side and nodding, "Alright."

JJ cleared his throat before he started rattling off reasons as to why he hated you, "You're just like every other kook on this island, a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to you."

Shaking your head at his answer you leaned closer to him with a glare that made a chill run up his spine.

"No no no. We all know what a kook is JJ, no I want you to tell me what I'm about. C'mon, what's my biggest fear?" You pushed at his chest again, enjoying how he swallowed thickly and stayed quiet.

"What age was I when it all started going wrong? Why can't I wear dresses to parties? Huh?" The boy kept quiet, he didn't have an answer to any of your questions and the point you were making started to dawn on him.

"Come on! Since you know everything about what I'm about you must know the answers." 

JJ let out an aggravated huff and threw his hands up in defeat, "Well I don't, alright?" He shouted defensively.

Giving him a fake smile and nodding you stood up, towering over him now.

"Right. Because you don't fucking know me. So stop acting like you do when you've never even bothered to get to know me." You spat at him before storming away.

Kie and Pope watched with dissatisfied looks on their faces, "Man, you suck do you know that?" Kie sighed out as she watched you get smaller and smaller.

"Also you do know Y/n is like the sweetest person on the planet right?" John B chimed in, returning from the keg.

"Why do you hate her?" Pope asked, tilting his head in confusion, JJ not liking you had just been something they all accepted and never questioned.

JJ shrugged, chugging his drink and tossing the cup to the side, "She's a kook." 

Kie scoffed this time, "Yeah and? Everyone else loves her. I don't get why you always have to make her feel bad, she tried really hard to get along with you." 

JJ's feeling towards you were complicated, the rudeness between the two of you had admittedly started off as just banter and when he realized he'd been enjoying the back and forth a little too much he needed to regain his distance. No way in hell could he fall for a kook princess, even if you were one of the nicest people he'd ever met.

He's never felt bad about the remarks he threw you or arguments he caused because you always gave as good as you got. It pissed him off because it only made him admire you more. He didn't notice it was taking a lasting effect on you until your little outburst.

To top things off, Kie, Pope and John B were always gushing about how much fun you were to hang out with and how they wanted to hang out with you more often, truth be told he'd love to see you hanging around more but his pride just would not allow him to get close to you.

"Look, if it would make you all chill out I will go and I will propose a truce so you can all go back to macking on Y/n in peace." The boy offered and was met with a chorus of thank yous from his friends.

He had to jog up the beach until he eventually found you sitting on the sand, close to the shore line with a bottle of water, attempting to sober up before you went home.

"Hey, princess." JJ said, voice flat as he sat down beside you on the cold sand.

You glanced at him briefly and sighed, "I'm not up for a round two."

The boy shook his head, staring out at the ocean thoughtfully, "That's not why I'm here."

Furrowing your brows you turned your face toward his, "Then why are you here?"

He ran his fingers through his hair then met your eyes, "I'm sorry that I'm an asshole."

He never usually apologized, but then again, you never usually snapped either so you were both full of surprises tonight.

"I'm not sorry for snapping at you. You deserved it." You replied softly, returning your gaze to the water in front of you.

JJ let out an airy laugh, nodding in agreement. 

"I don't hate you by the way." He confessed quietly.

"Then why are you so mean all the time?" You asked in return.

Instead of answering your question he posed a new one to you, "Do you wanna know what I'm about?"

You nodded, determined to get to the bottom of the boy beside you.

"I'm about keeping people at a distance. I do that by being an asshole. I'm about caring too much about my reputation to let myself be nice to you." To let myself fall for you. He wanted to say, but he couldn't put all of his cards on the table like that.

Nodding in understanding you let out a weak, "Pogues vs kooks… right." You knew for a fact that if you were considered one of the pogues JJ would've never had an issue with you.

"Right." The boy confirmed with yet another nod of his head. 

A silence settled over you both before JJ stood up, dusting himself off, "Come hang out with us this weekend. The others want you to be there."

Giving him a weak smile and a nod you watched as he walked away. That boy would never fail to confuse you.

You just hoped that now that he told you he didn't hate you, that maybe he'd start acting like it.

Part 2

[gusu-emilu]

orange segments

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Qin Su (one-sided, sorry JC)

Summary: Jiang Cheng and Qin Su share a few moments (and an orange) with Jin Ling and each other.

Rated G, Fluff, brief mention of canon-typical violence

Read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

* * *

A-Ling passes the orange back and forth between his tiny hands, nearly dropping it once. His eyes shine bright with mirth at this simple game.

He's still so little. Jiang Cheng has seen plenty of children in Lotus Pier, yet he is always surprised by how small A-Ling is if he thinks about it too much. Both of his hands, still fiddling with the orange, could fit in Jiang Cheng’s. His nose is a little bump; his oversized ears stick out and somehow make him look even smaller.

Perhaps it is so difficult to process how little A-Ling is because it seems like every time Jiang Cheng visits Jinlintai, A-Ling is a bit bigger. Today he's two years old—and a half, as he’s been proclaiming.

With a sudden peal of laughter, A-Ling places the orange on the floor and rolls it to Qin Su, who is kneeling in front of him with Jiang Cheng. The round fruit gently thuds into her knee. “Shenshen!” A-Ling calls. “Make it for me?”

“Alright,” Qin Su says softly. She glances at Jiang Cheng with a smirk, then picks up the orange, cleans it, and begins peeling it. “How come you don’t make your jiujiu do any work?”

“He makes me do plenty,” Jiang Cheng counters before A-Ling can erupt into one of his new favorite remarks to offend him. It doesn’t make a difference.

“Jiujiu is too busy pouting!” A-Ling says through giggles, and Qin Su laughs with him. He undoubtedly learned this jab from her.

Qin Su has only been in Jinlintai for several months, her lavish wedding to Jin Guangyao still a fresh memory in the cultivation world, yet she has taken a liking to teasing Jiang Cheng quite rapidly. Somehow, they’d become friends over A-Ling after just a few times meeting each other. Qin Su, eager for a child of her own and perhaps even more eager to make pleasant acquaintances outside her maids—a difficult task in the snake pit of Jinlintai—latched onto him and A-Ling quickly. Although Jiang Cheng is not sure how he counts as a pleasant acquaintance.

As for how he ended up taking a liking to Qin Su…he supposes that anyone who treats A-Ling well will inevitably gain his favor. The fact that Qin Su is warm-hearted and sensible, intelligent and down-to-earth enough to see through the vacuous opulence of her new clan, and stubbornly cheeky enough to poke fun at Jiang Cheng of all people—and also that maybe Jiang Cheng is a bit lonely—that could have something to do with it, too. Potentially.

He might also have a miniscule crush on her.

But Qin Su is a married woman, expecting her own son in the coming months, and even if three quarters of the matchmakers have blacklisted Jiang Cheng like he’s some threat to womankind, he isn’t so much of a monster that he would dare disrespect Qin Su’s honor. A crush is not an idea he can entertain.

They're just friends who happen to look after the same little boy.

“If I did pout,” Jiang Cheng says, shooting a stern look at Qin Su, “which I don't, it wouldn’t incapacitate me so much that I can’t peel an orange.”

“Ah, this is good to know,” Qin Su says as she delicately removes another strip of orange peel, then holds the fruit out to Jiang Cheng. “Then I suppose your scowl right now will not hinder you from finishing my work for me.”

A-Ling cackles. Little brat. He probably doesn’t even know why he’s laughing.

The boy watches with twinkling eyes as Jiang Cheng sighs and takes the orange. The bittersweet fragrance of orange rind swirls around Jiang Cheng as he peels the fruit, while Qin Su starts playing a clapping game with A-Ling.

These moments in A-Ling’s room every few weeks hold Jiang Cheng over until the summers, when A-Ling lives in Lotus Pier. Although, now that Jiang Cheng gotten used to Qin Su's company, he’s beginning to wonder if he will miss her during the months he no longer needs to travel to visit A-Ling.

He’s formed comradery with his senior disciples during the war—the cultivators he’d trust with his life—in a way he’d never been able to while he was still the sect heir during times of peace. Watching your home be burned to the ground and fighting back-to-back soaked in blood and mourning the lost can build strong bonds with one's clansmen, if not happy ones.

But this is different.

This might be the closest glimpse of something like family that Jiang Cheng has had since…since two years ago.

Peace, for once.

Half an hour later, A-Ling falls asleep, and Qin Su tells Jiang Cheng about her hometown as they watch over him. Her voice is soft and quiet as she speaks about trips to the ocean and the time she and a friend found a giant sea creature’s fossils sticking out of a crumbled cliffside after an earthquake. Jiang Cheng tells her about the boat racing games he’d play on the lake and the time he got buried under lotus pads, although he doesn’t mention who accompanied him back then.

It’s nice, to share these lost memories, with a child’s cheerfulness between them to break what otherwise might be sorrowful. Qin Su has been separated from her hometown. Jiang Cheng lives in an empty hometown.

Sometimes, he wonders what his life might be like now if it had been he, not Jin Guangyao, who saved Qin Su during the Sunshot Campaign, and if she had pursued him instead. He had never truly wanted a wife (or he at least tries not to think about the one time he considered it), but if marriage could be like this…comfortable, like sitting beside a friend…

What is he doing thinking this way? Even if these wandering delusions weren't about a married woman, he has seen how marriages fail. With his days and his entire mind revolving around his sect when he isn't with A-Ling—or isn't wallowing in his own miseries or isn't lashing out in anger—he's just tired. Callous. He has so little care to offer that the matchmakers were probably right to blacklist him.

Qin Su slides an orange slice between her lips. “Jiang-zongzhu. May I ask—your birth name is Jiang Cheng?”

Surprised by the sudden question, Jiang Cheng just nods.

“Cheng as in chengzi (orange)?” She smiles wryly.

He crosses his arms. “No. Cheng as chengqing (clear). No parents would name a sect heir after a fruit.”

“I think it would have nice imagery. A river of oranges to go with the lotus lake.” She separates a piece of fruit and hands it to him. Although he glares at her, he takes the orange segment, careful not to brush her fingers. But just as he is about to eat it, she adds, “It could also be inspiration to give the Jiang Clan robes a makeover.”

His hand drops to his side, fist closing over the orange segment. “You don’t like our robes?” he asks with more distress in his voice than he intended.

She laughs, eyes bright. “I do. Don’t worry. Violet is a nice color.” She focuses her gaze back down on the orange half she holds in her hands, lips quirked. “You know that I was only pretending to insult you; do not insult me. Eat the piece I gave you.”

“Hmph.” Jiang Cheng pops the orange slice in his mouth and looks away.

“Thank you, Chengzi.”

“You—”

She shushes him. “If you start yelling, A-Ling will wake up.”

Across the room, A-Ling breathes deeply, eyes closed, one side of his faced smushed against his hand. The sight calms Jiang Cheng, although he is still offended.

“Have I ever yelled at you?” he asks.

“You haven't,” Qin Su says thoughtfully. “You can be a bit loud, though.”

Heat rises to his cheeks.

Qin Su doesn’t look over, but somehow she notices the faint blush, as if she has some magical sixth sense for detecting embarrassment. “I enjoy the color violet, I enjoy the company of people who are a bit loud.” She gestures toward A-Ling with the orange in her hand. “So does he, when he's not napping."

"Understood,” Jiang Cheng says, and nods. "A-Ling...A-Ling likes your company, too."

Qin Su smiles and hands over another orange segment. Holding back a smile of his own, Jiang Cheng eats it quietly.

The comfort of a friend, and a glimpse of something like family, is already satisfying enough.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3! :D

江澄 - Jiāng Chéng - "river" and "clear, transparent" 江橙 - sounds exactly the same! - "river" and "orange" hence the "river of oranges" joke shoutout to @qi-ling for mentioning this a few days ago lol

I'm not sure if shenshen (father's younger brother's wife) is what Jin Ling would call Qin Su but I think it's right? Feel free to correct me.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: DramioneFanfictionForum (Part 3)

Sounds Like Dramione 2020:

Not fond of asking by Anonymous - M, 4 chapters - The five times Draco and Hermione cared about each other without owning up to it and what happened when they finally did.

The Scars we Share by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Those who survive war never do without any scars. Some however are invisible. Eighth year Hermione and Draco try to make a go of it, but the past doesn’t seem to want to let go.

The Magic in the Marrow by Anonymous - E, 6 chapters - Auror Inspector Malfoy is making forensic scientist Hermione Granger's life difficult.If he's not dragging her to a crime scene, he's invading her dreams.

Healing by Anonymous - M, one-shot - Returning for his final year a changed man, Draco Malfoy finds that everyone suffered and no one is alright Becoming close with Hermione Granger is healing in a way he didn’t know he needed.

fools with hearts that tried too hard by Anonymous - T, 3 chapters - For the 2020 Sounds Like Dramione Competition on the Dramione Fanfiction Forum. My prompt was "Maybe all we are is fools with hearts that tried too hard/And maybe that's just fine as long as you're here in my arms" from Maybe, I'm afraid by lovelytheband.

Loving Her Was Green by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Their secret shag sessions were a means to an end — mutually beneficial and nothing more. But when jealousy takes over, Draco Malfoy should have known better than to think it could have ever stopped there.

Ghosts That We Knew by Anonymous - T, one-shot - Malfoy keeps following Hermione around Hogwarts. She has no idea why.She traced the scar on her left arm, wondering about Horcruxes and curses, and what marks they left behind on one's soul.“Is that from – was that Aunt Bellatrix?” a voice said in her ear, and Hermione shrieked.“Fucking hell, Malfoy!”He looked sullen. “This is the dungeons, you know.”“Yes,” she agreed, trying to remember how to breathe. “If only you spent all your time here –”

Catalyst by Anonymous - E, 5 chapters - Six years after the war, Hermione has a challenging career and fulfilling friendships, and movie nights with Draco are the highlight of her week. But her impending marriage to Ron fills her with increasing anxiety.

Preying on You by Anonymous - T, one-shot - A chance meeting and Hermione finds out a long hidden secret.

Starving by Anonymous - E, 5 chapters - Hermione has everything figured out. Sex is like food. Club nights are far too expensive. And men belong in the category of 'things that are more faff than they're worth'. You know, like hair straightening charms, lingerie, and mathematical integration. This is a story about food and sex, though not at the same time. 

Why Can't We Be Three by Anonymous - E, 3 chapters - One was her unlikely best mate, the other a longtime love newly her fiance. And Hermione felt utterly barmy nestled between the two in the back of a pub, the wrong man's hand toying with the waistband of her shorts. But if her fiance didn't mind, who was she to deny that two could become three? Who was she to refuse her fiance the pleasure that she, too, so desperately craved?

Everlasting Light by Anonymous  - E, 3 chapters - no summary

Slowly, then all at once by Anonymous - M, 2 chapters - Hermione begins her training at St. Mungo’s the summer after her eighth year. She’s excited to put the past behind her—that is, until Draco Malfoy turns up in her ward and she’s forced to relive the past, if only so he can remember it. Title of the story is inspired by a line in The Fault in Our Stars by John Green.

Add it up! by Anonymous - M, one-shot - Draco struggles to keep on task while on a case with Granger.

Love is a Beautiful Thing by Anonymous - T, one-shot - How can you choose when you never wanted to hurt anyone? 

How I Ended Up Inside by Anonymous - E, one-shot - no summary

Make Damn Sure by Anonymous - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy may of overcome their differences and fallen in love along the way, but with an impending betrothal on the horizon, will everything change for them? 

Lost Souls by Anonymous - T, one-shot - Broken by war and years of secrecy, Hermione and Draco struggle to find true happiness together while hiding behind double lives. 

Hold Me When I'm Here by Anonymous - M, one-shot - No longer on the wrong side of the war, Draco finds himself fighting beside unlikely allies, each day about getting through whatever way he can.Sometimes, that way is her.

Guilt by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Getting a nanny in would work wonders.

Deflower Draco 2020:

Mind and Body by sarena - E, 5 chapters -  Hermione tilted her head, taking a step back to look him up and down. “Draco Malfoy, is this your first time?” He winced reflexively but he tried to cover it up immediately by shaking his head. “Of course not,” he scoffed.

Something Deeper by kmd0107 - E, one-shot - Draco and Hermione have to consummate their marriage bond. Draco may have left out one not-so-tiny detail.

Something Unexpected by GaeilgeRua - E, one-shot - Hermione learns that the rumours about her new husband may have been exaggerated a bit. It’s a good thing that the Slytherin Sex God and the Gryffindor Princess work so well together now.

A Stellar Collision by Somandalicious - E, one-shot - They were a white dwarf and a neutron star hurling through space and time on an elliptical trajectory with catastrophic consequences. 

Prick the Virgin by Klawdee - M, one-shot - 7th year Au, in which, Hermione (not the Head Girl, but knows a bit about head or at least several different slang words for it) asks Draco for his virginity, but NOT that virginity, and yet she gets both, that is if either really exist at all... Canon divergence - Voldy Moldy didn’t return 4th year or in this fic…at all… -Diggory was the only Hogwarts Champion…but also not in this fic… -Umbridge did teach 5th year but was chased out early due to out of control rise underage rituals…hinted at but not elaborated on… - it’s AU; Sargent and really…there is no plot, what plot? Inspired by an incorrect (as I’ve soon learned doing some minor research) tumblr post assumption on what “Virgin Blood actually” means, and I ran with it anyways. Some humour, or at least some attempts at humour. I know my confidence is staggering, hopefully you give it a go anyhow, and humour me.

In the Twist of a Curl by SlytherinHermione - E, one-shot - There she goes again. Draco couldn’t help but to watch, mesmerized as she took a long strand of her hair, and followed its curled path around her finger.He felt turned around, twisted upside down, and he couldn’t really stop himself from falling.

Waking The Dragon by Lilithmorningstar69 - E, one-shot - Draco Malfoy had very few choices, despite being a spoilt brat, as a pureblood and only living heir to the Malfoys, he is expected to uphold some antiquated traditions. That is until he sees an unexpected pair in a very compromised position.

still got you all over me by HawthorneWhisperer - M, one-shot - “Earl Grey,” a deep voice said, and it was like walking straight through a ghost. Her stomach plunged, her veins turned icy cold, and she made herself count to three before turning around.It was worse than a ghost. It was him, warm and in the flesh, cheeks slightly flushed from the summer heat outside. Draco hadn’t noticed her yet, too busy paying for his tea, and she inched toward the door. If she could just scoot past the cluster of witches waiting in line, she might be able to—“Granger?” the barista asked. Dammit. Draco’s face went several shades paler. She gave up trying to sneak out and sheepishly wended her way to the counter. Hermione accepted her cup with a meek smile and nodded to Draco like this wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to her in years. It had been seven years since she had last seen him, standing alone in front of the lake. Everyone else had been crowded into groups, surrounded by their families and loved ones, but Draco was alone. No one had come to his commencement ceremony, not even his mother.

The Infidelity Clause by melanoradrood - E, one-shot - "It ends with infidelity," he said carefully. "If one of us were to have sexual relations with another, then the contract is broken."Draco's future has been written in ink and magic since he was a child, but now that he faces it, a marital contract, he knows that there's only one way out... but the consequences of breaking such a contract are... permanent.Hermione rather likes the sound of them.Written for Deflower Draco Fest 2021

Not Your Average Sex God by GracefulLioness - E, one-shot - Draco's in love. And that's isn't even the most embarrassing thing he's confessing tonight.

Until You by BiscuitsForPotter - E, one-shot - After a potions accident at fifteen, Draco must resign himself to living with an affliction for which there is no cure. Written for the 2021 Deflower Draco Fest.

The Bowtruckles and the Beasts by PurpleSugarQuills - E, one-shot - Molly Weasley brandished a copy of The Bowtruckles and the Beasts in one hand and a ripe, yellow banana in the other. Hermione could only blink, moments away from receiving The Talk from her ex-boyfriend’s mother.This was, as so many things tended to be, all Ginny Weasley’s fault.And eighth-year fic for Deflower Draco Fest

Fortuitous timing by emotionalsupporthufflepuff - E, one-shot - Rumor has it that Draco Malfoy is a skilled and generous lover.He may have started that rumor himself...But when Hermione Granger wants to find out for herself, will it result in another disastrous event for Draco, or is his luck finally turning around?

This fest is ongoing.

[taesramenhair]

Set Me Free [MYG]

The abbey has been a constant in Yoongi’s life: his home, his school, his workplace. Now it’s burning, pillaged by invaders - and it’s up to him to keep their relic safe. The strange man he meets at the high altar doesn’t seem to understand that, but he does understand staying out of harm's way.

word count: 5.7k // genre + rating: SFW (12)

warnings/tags etc: violence, injury, minor character death (unnamed characters), mention of corporal punishment, some Not Nice People, as you might have guessed - angst with a happy ending, monk!Yoongi (sort of), vague middle ages AU, religious imagery, religious references, mainly ft. Jimin but the others have a cameo at the end too. [This is my first fic so I'm not used to tagging - please, please tell me if I've missed something important!]

Masterlist

Yoongi never thought he’d be grateful for a childhood spent chasing chickens, but here he was. With the wind snarling around his reddened ears and loose pebbles rolling under his feet, he was immensely thankful that he’d always been given the outdoor duties. At the time, he’d hated it, of course, but it had built his stamina - and if there’s one thing you need when fleeing up a mountain, chased by murderous bandits, it’s the ability to run.

Not that he was going that fast anymore. The terrain was difficult, path narrow and winding, and the cut on his arm was distractingly painful. It wasn’t bleeding so much now, thankfully, but it throbbed with every beat of his worn-down sandals against the dusty rock. His one advantage over his pursuers was that he knew this path well and they didn’t. He had gained a lead on them in the twisting corridors of the abbey – his abbey, now nothing more than hollowed, blackened stone burning violently in the valley below – and left them scrabbling foolishly in the dense foliage at the base of the mountain. It wouldn’t be long before they made their way through, though, and he had to reach the top first. He had to make it to the altar.

A misjudged footfall coming around the last corner slid Yoongi into the floor, landing heavily on his left shoulder as the strap of his sandal broke apart. Every ache in his body rose now that he wasn’t moving, screaming up towards the bright midday sky even as he forced himself to let out nothing louder than a pained groan. He couldn’t let them know anything was wrong. Let them think he was safe. Let them think he was long gone.

Testing his shoulder with a gentle roll – ah, painful – the young acolyte turned onto his knees and rose shakily. The broken sandal was all but useless, barely staying on his foot as he stepped forward. This high on the mountain, though, the ground was harsh and stony, the only foliage being the flowering apple tree next to the altar Yoongi couldn’t yet see but knew was just over the next rise. He’d have to hobble to keep the shoe on but it was preferable to tearing the sole of his foot on jagged stones. If only he hadn’t given his best shoes as an offering, he thought bitterly – and then instantly chastised himself. The gods had ben pleased with that offering, had taken it quickly and sent plentiful rains in response. It had been a worthwhile sacrifice, even if he was now struggling to reach sanctuary.

A noise below told him the bandits had broken through the tree cover already. They were gaining on him. He hobbled faster.

No one had expected an attack that day. Yoongi had been by the stream when it started, bathing his battered hands in the cool waters, breathing in the dews of the spring day and hoping they would sweeten his tears.

(It had been his turn to watch the blessed fire, but he had been sick all week and the abbot had caught him sleeping at his post. The welts of his punishment would linger for a few days: they always did.)

Hearing the tower bells had pulled Yoongi from his mournful reverie – it was not yet dawn, and those bells should not have been ringing. Something was terribly wrong.

Cold grey stone was already dripping red warmth by the time Yoongi reached the doors to the place he had called home since his seventh winter. Prayerful silence had given way to terrible screams, like the great oaken entrance had buckled beneath the force of the invaders’ battering. Centuries of monastic tradition was no match for the terror of a freshly forged blade baptising itself in the blood of the aged brothers, it would seem.

He could have run there and then, abandoned it all to its inevitable oblivion and fled towards the slowly rising sun. There were things he had grown to value there, though, lessons that had been drummed into him by chant and fast and blood. To run with no attempt at saving the abbey’s great treasure would be an insult to the gods too grave to contemplate. Sure, he would survive – but it would not be a life worth having, cursed to his final breath.

So he had waded through the wails of his brothers, the dying agony of those who had raised and formed him, taking the hidden passages to reach the inner sanctum before the newcomers did. They seemed to plunder aimlessly, unaware that there was only one prize worth having within the abbey walls, more valuable than the golden triptychs or the silver-wrought chalices. For the blessed fire – the one Yoongi had been punished so harshly for failing to attend – burned to light the presence of a great relic: a priceless stone that betokened the favour of the gods. That favour had passed now from the vaulted corridors of the abbey it had settled on for centuries, that much was clear. Even so, as Yoongi crawled past the death-closed eyes of the kind, wizened man he had once playfully addressed as halabeoji, he knew the stone must be preserved and taken to the high altar until the gods chose to bestow it anew. If he could just get it there, he could beg their protection in return – he could beg preservation from the terrible fate that had fallen out around him.

Now, finally dragging his trembling limbs over the last mound, Yoongi saw the goal he had been fighting towards since daybreak. Half-shrouded in bruised blossoms from the apple tree stretching lazily by its side, the high altar basked in afternoon sunshine, dark stone glistening where droplets from the nearby waterfall had lost their way. He had seen it many times, in all weathers – sent far up the mountain in deepest winter to offer penance for a drifting mind; honoured to represent the community in late summer and give thanks for a bountiful harvest. Always the end of his journey and always a place of refuge. Looking at it, he could almost forget about the horrors he had seen. It was almost relaxing.

Only almost, though. Not only was he aware of the toll his journey had taken – not to mention the danger still snapping at his blistered heels – but when Yoongi looked at the altar today, he saw something he had never seen there before.

A young man – small, lithe, delicate – was sitting on the altar, back against the sacred tree. He was a vision in the dappled light, so beautiful next to Yoongi’s swollen eyes, bloodied robes and dusty feet. Looks were deceiving, though, and apparently Yoongi was to add another sacrilege to the list of crimes committed against everything he held dear. The man, damn him, was eating the offerings left upon the altar for the gods. Had he had more energy, Yoongi could have burst into tears at the sight.

“What are you doing?” he cried, voice cracking and distraught. “Get off! Go away! Those are offerings, we need them! I – please. I need the gods’ favour. Go away!” The boy did little more than blink at Yoongi and tilt his head slowly to the left. A child-like hand raised a flask of blessed water – blessed water – to full, pink lips and Yoongi choked on air, disbelieving.

“There are no gods here, silly.” A soft, high voice came from the young man, sure and unconcerned. “Only me.”

Angry tears did slip from Yoongi’s eyes then. How dare this – this boy say such things? Yoongi had not endured the destruction of his home for some spoiled brat to anger the gods and leave him defenceless and a failure. Marching towards the altar, he bowed quickly and muttered an apology to the tree before taking a firm grasp of the boy’s black hair and yanking him down unceremoniously, heedless of the responding cry.

“I am the last acolyte of the abbey and I will not have you defile this altar and the offerings left to our gods.” His speech would have more impact if he weren’t gasping through tears and physically shaking, but Yoongi was doing his best. “We have been beaten and burned and murdered today and I am here to return the stone of favour to the gods for safekeeping and beg their protection from the evil that has pursued me all day and you – how dare you treat this place with so little respect?” Wide eyes and a soft pout looked up at him from the ground, the boy not having moved from where Yoongi had thrown him. He realised that the ground was still harsh here and felt a little bad – even if he was a sacrilegious blasphemer, this boy seemed a couple of years younger than Yoongi and the fall must have hurt him. Still, there were more pressing matters at hand. Yoongi did his best to rearrange the remaining gifts on the altar (so few, the boy must taken so much of it, the gods would be displeased) and placed the stone carefully in the centre before dropping stiffly to his knees. Wiping his tears and bowing his head to the ground, he muttered out a series of chants and then sat back on his heels, chin lifted to the skies and streaming eyes closed against the light.

“Great gods above, hear my call,” he declared, loudly as his ragged throat allowed him. “We know not why you have withdrawn your blessing from us. We thank you for having granted it at all, for letting us live such charmed lives for you for many years. We return now your stone. Please retain your grace in it and bestow it anew upon others. Do not abandon us all, oh great ones. Hear me when I call to you, worthless as I am. Do not forget us all.” His voice faltered and Yoongi tipped his head forward again, barely managing a whisper. “I ask your protection. Please. I know I have not served you perfectly, but I have tried so hard. I wanted to please you. I want to deserve your favour. You’ve always answered me so graciously – and I know better servants have died horribly today, but please. I don’t want to die. Protect me.” The thunderous footsteps of the bandits started to reach his ears and Yoongi gasped, pressing his face desperately to the ground once more. A soft noise behind him reminded him he was not alone and he spoke again. “Protect us both.”

For a few moments there was silence, and then Yoongi heard the stones to his left shifting quickly, as though someone were running towards him. He tensed, still bowing before the altar and praying that somehow the gods would protect him. A pair of hands grabbed his upper arms and pulled, and he couldn’t help but let out a sob. He knew he had never deserved anything from the gods, but he had hoped so dearly that they would spare him.

“It’s just me, acolyte, get up.” The words filtered through his distress like thick cream through muslin, slow and awkward. He couldn’t quite grasp them. “We have to go, now.”

“Can’t,” he stuttered out, managing to open his eyes and twist away from the young man’s grip, crawling back towards the altar. “I have to be here. The gods –“

“The gods won’t help you.” Though his words were harsh, the man looked concerned, reaching a hand out towards Yoongi again imploringly. “Let me help you, please. Come with me. They’re close now: we have to go.” Yoongi knew he was telling the truth – he could hear voices as well as footsteps now, could almost hear the singing of the blades he knew the bandits were carrying. But he couldn’t leave the altar – could he? It had always been his safety and it was the last remains of his abbey – his faith. He had run this far for the gods. If he ran further, for himself, did that make him a coward? Would he have betrayed them all? Would he prove himself as unworthy as the abbot had always told him he was? Teary-eyed and shaking, he set his mouth and looked the young man right in the eye.

“Save yourself if you can. I cannot leave.” It had the desired effect. The man nodded curtly, stood and began to leave, pausing by the altar as he did so.

“Fine,” he called back. “But I’m taking the rest of this food with me. No point letting it go to waste. This stone is pretty, too. I don’t know about it being blessed or anything, but I think I’ll take it.” Sure enough, he picked it up, tossed it in the air and pocketed it with a stunning smile that all but closed his eyes. Then, he started simply sauntering away, all sense of urgency gone.

He’s baiting me, Yoongi thought. He hadn’t managed to convince him to leave on his own, so he was taking the stone like some sort of carrot, hoping Yoongi, like a donkey, would follow. Yoongi half wanted to be stubborn, to sit there and die like a fool just to prove that he had a stronger will than this brattish stranger presumed. The louder part of him, however, was relieved at having been given permission to abandon the altar, a reason beyond self-preservation to stand up and follow him to safety. He couldn’t leave the stone of favour in the hands of someone with so little respect that he would lean against a sacred tree and eat the gods’ offerings with his feet on their altar. Impossible. It was his sacred duty to stagger up and stumble after him, calling chastisements as loudly as he dared and trying to match pace when the stranger sped up, leading him around the corner from the altar to a hidden path he had never thought to look for.

The altar was at the top of the mountain path – Yoongi had never considered that there might be other paths down beyond it. It was the destination, the end of the line. Going further just wasn’t something he’d ever considered, and that this man was leading him like it was second nature was the last straw for him. Lost in a haze, he followed wordlessly, almost blindly, the ache of his arms and his legs and his feet whispering somewhere but barely decipherable through the thick fog of his mind. At some point they entered a dark tunnel and the young man took his hand gently, perhaps aware of how feeble Yoongi’s grip on awareness was. Between the soft touch and the pressing darkness around him, Yoongi let himself go.

Waking up again was a far less pleasant experience than drifting off had been. It wasn’t a slow rise to the surface, lazy and comfortable like waking to a summer dawn – it was a sudden dive from absolute nothingness into decided somethingness. All at once Yoongi was aware again of the stiffness in his calves and the ache of his arm; the throb of his head from a week of sickness, a lack of sleep and the dehydration of having cried his frustrations out on the mountaintop. The fog lifted and he sat up quickly, huffing softly through his nose as the movement made his stomach lurch and his vision swim. He could remember being annoyed at a bright smile, and fluffy, black hair disappearing into a tunnel – and the stone! Right, yes. Dangerous bandits, bratty stranger, following the stone. That’s what had happened.

“There’s some water next to you – you should drink it,” he heard the stranger say from somewhere off to his right. Yoongi glanced around him, twisting on the bed roll laid out in his corner of what seemed to be a small, wooden room. Sure enough, there was a whole pitcher of water beside him. After a few seconds of blinking at the floor failed to magic a cup into existence, Yoongi picked it up and hesitantly tilted it against his lips. The water was lukewarm and hardly counted as refreshing, but he hadn’t had anything to drink since the abbot had woken him before, well, everything and his throat was grateful to be soothed.

“What did you do with the stone?” Even after a few mouthfuls of water, his voice was deep and gruffer than he had meant it to be. The stranger just giggled and Yoongi managed to make out his shape in the low light, sitting against the opposite wall.

“Don’t worry, acolyte. It’s safe here. I’ll give it to you in the morning, if you like.” Yoongi grumbled and the stranger laughed again. “You know, you were cute when you were half asleep. All whiny, like a kitten.”

“I’m not a kitten.” (He had a vague notion that his mother used to call him that. He hadn’t seen her for years, not since she had given him away in the hope of pleasing the gods and bringing a good harvest. Maybe he had dreamed it up. He certainly hadn't had a nickname since joining the abbey.)

“Who are you, then?” The question took Yoongi by surprise and he cleared his throat as he shifted back a little, resting against the wall behind him and drawing his knees painfully up. From the feel of the fabric under his fingertips, he was still in his robes from earlier and whilst he was relieved that the stranger had not undressed him, he desperately wanted to be clean. He wondered whether there was any chance of getting a bath, just soaking in hot water and letting it steam away everything that had happened. Probably not.

“Yoongi,” he said shortly. “Who’re you?”

“My name’s Jimin. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” Yoongi didn’t like where this was going.

“Hyung!”

“No.” He thought he could see a flicker of a pout and was glad of the cover of darkness. Living around older monks meant he hadn’t really been exposed to much cuteness – he hadn’t been anyone’s hyung ever– so he didn’t think he’d be able to hold out against it. At least if he couldn’t see this Jimin’s face, the only thing he had to resist was the whining that started up immediately.

“I saved your life, let me call you hyung!”

“You desecrated my altar!”

“I told you, Yoongi-hyung, there are no gods here! If the altar’s not really sacred, how can I have desecrated it?” That stung worse than the other injuries vying for Yoongi’s attention. He had devoted his life to serving the gods. It was all he had known. He had put up with long nights and early mornings for years, allowed the other monks to literally beat him into shape, all in the hope that it would appease some deity with the power to improve people’s lives - and now this clueless boy wanted to tear it all into pieces.

“There are gods, Jimin-ssi. We have left them offerings for centuries, and they have always taken them and given what we asked for in return.” He thought he heard a snort, and it was his turn to pout.

“Like what, hyung? When have the gods taken something and given something in return? How would that even work?” Yoongi didn’t have to think.

“Last autumn. The rains were late so the farmers were worried the fruits wouldn’t ripen properly and they would have to feed their livestock from reserves, which might mean they would run out before the frosts ended. I’d been working on a new pair of sturdy boots all year because mine had fallen to pieces, but we needed an offering, so I brought them up to the altar and left them there. Two days later, the rains started, and the boots were gone. We gave the boots; they gave the rains.” He sounded smug. He knew he sounded smug, but he also knew he was right. Traditions existed for a reason, and the abbey existed because it worked. It helped. The monks prayed and trekked up the mountain to offer sacrifices because the gods listened to them and protected their people. Or at least, they used to.

“Oh.” There was the sound of shuffling across the room, and then a hiss as a flame was struck. Yoongi blinked blearily as Jimin lit a candle, picked something up from the floor and shuffled over, nearly tripping on the long, woven blanket he had wrapped around his narrow shoulders. “Um, Yoongi-ssi – those boots, they, um. Well. They didn’t look like this, did they?” Kneeling next to Yoongi’s bed roll, Jimin lifted the candle and proffered a muddy pair of boots with his other hand. Slightly crooked teeth worried his lip as he waited for the acolyte to respond. Yoongi took the boots reluctantly, fingering over the caked mud and peering closely. He couldn’t see much, in truth – and he had only ever felt his boots when they were brand new, unworn. His fingertips didn’t recognise these ones, leather both soft with wear and rugged from the elements. Guiding Jimin’s hand closer to gain more light, he turned them over and picked at the dirt dried into the arch.

“You’re terrible at looking after boots,” he muttered as a large clump came away in his hand, revealing the sole. Jimin didn’t respond. The last bit of mud fell to the floor and Yoongi coughed on a harsh sob. There, tucked next to the heel, was the mark Yoongi put on all his things.

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin whispered as Yoongi’s eyes drifted blankly to the wall beside him. “I didn’t realise you had offered them up. I always – ever since I was tiny, there have always been things there and we always took them, so I thought they were meant for us. I thought you all knew we were taking them. I thought you were looking after us.”

“You’ve been taking the offerings for years?” Maybe if he asked the question quietly enough, the answer would be different. It wasn’t.

“All my life. Yoongi-ssi, I’m so sorry. My parents showed me and when they were gone - I guess I didn't think about it. I didn’t know it meant anything until you shouted at me earlier, and then I thought you were just being… I don’t know. Sanctimonious?” Yoongi huffed, still not looking at the younger man.

“Big word.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you thought – but those offerings didn’t go to waste. We’d have died here without them.” A silence stretched tensely between them, Jimin left without words to explain himself and Yoongi winded by how abruptly his world was turning itself inside out. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that he had lost everything that had ever been familiar to him. He also had to have his faith shaken and his understanding of how the world worked ripped out from under him. There was only really one thing to do.

“I’m going to sleep,” he mumbled, curling up to face the wall even though it meant lying on his wrenched shoulder. Behind him, he heard Jimin place the candle on the ground and move the boots – his boots? Yoongi’s boots? it didn’t matter anymore – away.

“Hyung,” came the soft voice again as a small hand reached over his hunched shoulder, “here. I think you should keep this. We can talk again in the morning.” Firm fingers prised Yoongi’s hand away from his side and pressed something cool and round into his palm. The stone, he thought. There is still the stone. He fell asleep with it pressed against his chest, safe.

They didn’t speak the next day. In fact, Yoongi gave Jimin the silent treatment for three weeks, only staying with him because the heavens opened during the night and refused to close again for long enough to allow Yoongi to even hope to venture off the mountainside. He didn’t have anywhere to go in any case – and whilst he was furious with Jimin and completely lost without his routine and the guidance of the other monks, he knew being somewhere warm and dry, with a reliable source of food and someone to offer to massage his aching shoulder was better than dying in a ditch somewhere from stubbornness.

(He never accepted the massage offers, of course, but it felt nice to know that someone cared enough to ask.)

When the rains finally cleared, Yoongi had Jimin show him the way back up to the altar. The blossom was all gone now, flushed away by the rain, but the leaves were strong and the waterfall babbled happily. Yoongi didn’t think the tree would fruit this year, since the flowers hadn’t had time to set before the storms, but it still stood. The altar still stood. That was something.

Sitting on the edge of the mountain, he could see the charred ruins of his home below – joined now by more ruins to the west. Though they hadn’t found him, the group who had attacked the abbey had travelled back down the mountain and continued their rampage, working through the nearby villages and taking what they could. Bright sunshine was no remedy for such heaviness, and Yoongi felt his face crumple watching the birds fly down towards the blackened remains of thriving communities. Maybe Jimin was right and there never were gods – maybe it was better that way. To think that they had been abandoned to such death and ruin hurt more than believing they had never been blessed by anything more than good chance in the first place.

“Hey, hyung – look!” Jimin called excitedly from the waterfall, oblivious to the destruction right below him. Jimin, it turned out, had never really come down off the mountain. His parents had retreated to a small cabin in a hidden glade after a particularly nasty feud with a distant cousin, and he had been raised in near solitude. He knew about the villages, of course, but he had never been to one. Their loss was a sad idea to him, but no more than that. Flowering daisies were all it took to distract him, and he sought to do the same for Yoongi, even if he was ignored.

“Hey, Grumpy-hyung! I saved your life, you know, you can at least pretend to be interested when I try to show you the finer beauties of this world!” A thought struck Yoongi, finally back in the place where he had thought for certain his life would end. It hit him hard enough to make him gasp, head tilting up to the sky so quickly that Jimin forgot his flowers and came rushing to see what the matter was.

“You’re wrong!” he declared as soon as Jimin settled beside him, before the younger boy had even spoken. “You’re wrong.”

“Something tells me you’re not talking about daisies.”

“There are gods.” Yoongi brought his chin down again and looked at Jimin straight, eyes still red from his tears but perfectly sure. “You said there weren’t gods. There are.”

“Um. Ok.”

“There are. I asked them for their protection and they protected me.” Jimin’s brow crinkled a little and his eyes followed Yoongi’s movement as he stood and paced to the altar, one hand reaching out gently to touch the bark of the apple tree.

“I mean, not to be pedantic, but I protected you, hyung.”

“Sure.” Yoongi had never admitted that before, no matter how much Jimin wheedled for acknowledgment. He figured either this was a minor miracle or the pressure had finally cracked him. “I’ve been coming up here for fifteen years, Jimin-ah. All times of day, all seasons, all weathers. I’ve never seen you. None of us have. And then the one day I need someone to be here, when I’m being chased and I’m completely alone for the first time in my life - you’re just sitting on the altar." For the first time, Jimin saw Yoongi smile – a bright, full-toothed, gummy thing that lit up his eyes and transformed his face. “Like an offering. We gave them offerings, they gave them to you – and then they gave you back to me.” When Yoongi chuckled and leant against the tree, Jimin couldn’t help but giggle as well.

“I don’t think that’s compelling theology, hyung, but if it makes you happy, you go ahead and think that.”

“Just admit it, Jimin-ah. You’re wrong. The gods exist and they’re here and they care and we’re going to be alright. Just you wait.”

It had taken two years for the invaders to take everything they could from the land, and three more for life to start again once they abandoned it to decay. Now, though, from his rock on top of the mountain Yoongi could see white smoke rising from chimneys once more, could follow the path of trundling carts along the roads between each growing settlement. He had taken Jimin down there a few times, to see how the people lived and to do what he could to help them. Although the abbey and the men who had raised him were gone, the skills he had learned remained and he had a lot to offer. If in time it meant he could earn a little money and make life a bit easier, that was a blessing too.

Life with Jimin had taken some time to adjust to. He had considered leaving after his revelation, heading north in the hopes of finding a new monastery and enfolding himself once more in the familiarity of an ordered life. He'd got as far as packing a small bag of food and reclaiming his boots from Jimin. When he had put them on to leave, though, it had all felt wrong. Officially, the boots had worn to Jimin's feet already and Yoongi refused to make a long journey in uncomfortable shoes. Jimin had accepted that excuse without fuss, thrilled to keep his companion, but they both knew that wasn't the real reason. After all, Jimin had watched Yoongi stumble into a mountain clearing with a sword wound on his arm, a dislocated shoulder and a broken sandal all for the sake of a small stone. Uncomfortable boots were hardly going to stop him leaving if he really wanted to.

For whatever reason, he had elected to stay, to learn how to live with just one person for company and without orders and punishments and bells to mark his day. Chasing chickens was also useful for catching rabbits, it turned out, and he taught Jimin the skills he needed to find food now that there weren't regular offerings to pilfer. Jimin taught him to dance, and sang real songs to him. He taught him to laugh again, and if anyone were to suggest they be parted now, he would probably growl at them and pull his dongsaeng behind him for protection.

The altar would always be special to him. When the weather was good, Jimin would often find him up there long past dark, listening to the waterfall or leaning against the tree. One autumn, he even convinced him to sit up on the altar itself.

("Hyung," he had whined, "don't leave me up here alone. If the gods didn't like it, they would have struck me down years ago. Live a little."

"Brat," Yoongi had muttered in reply, hiding his smile even as he climbed up onto the stone. Since he was yet to be blasted to smithereens, he figured he was alright to keep doing it.)

It was there that he was sat the day the monks returned to the mountain. The afternoon sunshine was lazy, winding its way through the apple tree's branches and kissing its growing fruit softly. Yoongi had brought a cushion and was leaned back against the tree trunk, legs stretched out across the altar and mind drifting when an outraged shout made him open one eye and smirk.

"Yah!" a tall stranger exclaimed, pulling his robes up with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other as he strode purposefully towards Yoongi. "Get off of there! Get down! That's a sacred altar!" Behind him was a group of four men, two looking nervous and carrying large baskets of food and one cradling a ceramic pot like it was glass while the last glared at him. Yoongi thought the glare might have something to do with the fact that the pot was missing one handle - which he located in the glarer's hand. Good to know every monastery had its own god of destruction.

"I take it you are the monks in charge of rebuilding the abbey?" Yoongi drawled, crossing his feet, completely unbothered by the new arrivals. Their leader halted in his striding, pulling his head back slightly in confusion.

"Uh - yes. That's us." One of the food bearers turned to the other with wide eyes, but received no more than a shrug in response. They looked very young - Yoongi hoped they were close. He thought he saw the one holding a pot begin to say 'hyung' and stop sheepishly when his hyung's heart-shaped mouth frowned even harder. Cute.

"Excellent." Hopping off the altar, Yoongi pulled a string from around his neck and took the stranger's hand. Unfurling crooked fingers, he placed the object in his palm and patted his shoulder familiarly, smiling at the gawk he got in return. "You'll need this, then. I've had it these past five years and I've been more blessed than I ever thought I would be. Guard it well, brother." He turned to walk away as the leader looked behind him, proffering the stone to one of his followers and saying, "Namjoon-ah, is this -" The answering gasp suggested they knew exactly what the stone meant.

"Oh, by the way," he called back at the corner where the path down to his and Jimin's cottage started. "If you ever need anything, just come here and leave a note. My friend and I will be happy to help. You never walk alone." With a soft smile, he disappeared around down the mountain and left them to their offerings.

(And if Jimin bounced home that evening with fine wine in a pot with a broken handle - well, Yoongi wouldn't be surprised.)

[random-mha-thoughts]

Day After (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Crack/fluff

Summary: Office parties are mostly a bad idea.  You never know if you might say something to someone who really matters to you.

Warnings: A little more cursing than usual

Word count: 2,031

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

For @lovingshoto​‘s 200 follower special!

a/n: This took longer than I thought it would, only because I always fall asleep when I start writing I’m a tired college student

There’s a male Ashido character here based on designer_eyebags on Tik Tok because it’s fabulous and absolute needed for a crack fic like this.  Some other characters may/may not be OOC, depending on your own imagination of things.

I’m off from uni this week and next week because someone probably has Covid-19 at my school and I was gonna be on spring break next week anyway, so after I catch up with all my assignments and stuff, I’ll hopefully be writing more!

Enjoy and follow @lovingshoto​ please and thank you!

Also, spot the TikTok meme

"Unngghh."

My forehead presses against the cool desk, my stomach rumbling uncomfortably and my temples pounding to the beat of an EDM track.

"You look completely hammered, what the hell happened last night?"

I don't bother lifting my head at Jirou's voice.  "Many mistakes were made," I groan.  "I feel like death."

"It was smart of YaoMomo and I to skip then."  The light ruffle of papers trickles next to my ear.   "You still need to get these reports done by the end of the day.  Sorry, buddy."

God. Damnit.  I lift my heavy head up, regretting all of my life choices until this moment.  The office party last night is a giant blob of flashing lights, alcohol, and questionable decisions.  I never even knew that half the people here would get as smashed or turnt as they did last night.

Me included.

I don't know who was in charge of alcohol, but whatever was in those cups was colored and made all of us act just a little crazier than our mundane lives usually allow.  When Mirio said company parties are crazy, I now see he really meant it.  This morning when I woke up, my throat was drier than the desert in summer and my head felt like someone let a jackhammer loose inside.  I don't even remember how the hell I managed to get home.

Slowly, painfully, I trudge through my work.  Even on three tablets of ibuprofen, my headache barely gets better, and staring at a screen all day doesn't help.  I don't even have time to take my break because I barely made a dent in my work.  Not that I would want to.  This morning, I couldn't keep my breakfast down, so I'm scared to eat.

Around lunchtime, a thermos bowl is placed gently on the space next to my computer.  My eyes meet with my stone-faced coworker settling into the chair, sitting up proper as he is with his hands laced in his lap.

"Oh no."  My heart drops into my stomach as I whine out.  "Did I say something yesterday?  I remember most of what happened last night, but other things are a blur.  Please don't be mad at me."

"If I were mad, I wouldn't be here right now."  He pushes the dish over along with utensils wrapped in a napkin.  "Eat.  It's hangover soup, it should help your stomach."

Reluctantly, I open the dish, the savory-bitter smell wafting out as soon as I lift the lid, immediately causing my stomach to growl.  I'm still wary about his serious expression as I eat.  Todoroki is normally an emotionless person, but he has a different energy today.  I'm waiting for the shoe to drop.

As soon as I'm halfway through the bowl, Todoroki calmly asks, "Did you forget your brain last night?"

I groan.  There it is.  "I thought you weren't angry?"

"I'm not angry, I genuinely want to know what state of empty mind were you in to do all the things you did last night?"  Though his face is devoid of emotion, he's obviously being condescending.

I put the spoon down in the bowl.  "In my defense, I don't know what alcohol that was, it made me crazier than usual."

"Why did you drink at all?  You know people do weird things when they're drunk."

"Because that's what people do at company parties, Todoroki."  I lean my arm on the desk and rub my temples.  "I don't know who was in charge of the alcohol last night-"

"Did you summon me?"  A short pink head of hair with small horns peeking out appears behind the wall of my desk.  "I was the one in charge of drinks last night," he rounds the separator and sits gracefully on the desk, legs crossed, happily drinking pink tea from his clear glass mug.  "Did you enjoy my alcohol selection?"

My eye twitches.  This is the person I need to strangle and throw into a ditch.  But I can't, he's too fabulous and he's one of the best people we have actually.  "Because of you, I went a little too crazy last night," I grit out through my teeth.

"Oh, sweetie," he places a hand on my shoulder endearingly, "Alcohol only brings out the secret inner person you actually want to be."

"Yeah, and that's someone who needs to learn to take their alcohol like me," Bakugou walks past casually, drinking his (probably) third cup of coffee since morning.

"Oh please Bakugou, we all know you and Kirishima left early to fuck, you couldn't keep your hands off each other after one drink," Ashido stirs his tea just as casually.

Bakugou freezes up as the blushing pink man sips his tea like's he's talking about the weather.

"Oops, was that a secret?" the sassy pink man feints shame.

Bakugou, completely red at the ears, just stalks off grumbling to himself in embarrassment.

Ashido sighs, a smile playing on his lips.  "Not everyone can handle Grand Marnier, you know.  Aoyama actually put me onto it.  It's not for the faint of heart, but it definitely makes things more interesting.  Did you see Tokoyami?  Even-  Oh!  Here's the king of darkness himself!"

The man with raven-black hair that's usually spiked back has lazily gathered some of the hairs to pull it away from it face.  He probably felt so terrible this morning that he didn't bother gelling it up like he usually does.  Actually, Tokoyami looks just as hellish as I feel.  His sharp, bird-like eyes are dulled by dark circles as he trudges down the aisle.

Ashido throws an arm around his shoulders as he walks by, startling him enough to pull the earbuds out of his ears that are blasting hard rock.  "This guy right here was having the time of his life last night!  Just one drink and he loosened up, hands around everyone's shoulder telling them how much he appreciates them and mushy shit like that."

Tokoyami's pale face slowly reddens and his eyes widen, suddenly awake but having no energy to fight anything Ashido says.

"He even fit a lap shade on his head and started dancing around, I even have pictures to prove it!" Ashido continues gushing, pulling out his phone excitedly.

"Please don't bring it up," Tokoyami grits out, trying to be menacing, but his tomato-red faces contrasting his all black work outfit doesn't help his case.

"Don't be a spoiled-sport, it's so cute seeing you not dark and dreary for once!" the bright pink man gushes.

"I'm leaving."

Oh shit, if Tokoyami did that after one drink, I don't even wanna know what else I could've done.  I've already come to terms with my mistakes, but if there's more, I don't know what I would do.

Ashido sighs and puts his phone away.  "I guess he never wants to see himself happy.  Oh well, at least I have more blackmail material."  He winks at us and rises will a flourish, making his grand exit.  "I'll see you two around!"

There are some days when I really think Ashido might know more things than we think he does.  And that's a scary thought, because he could very easily have some dirt on everyone, including the boss and the more senior workers.

Todoroki taps his thumbs together in his clasped hands.  "That was...interesting.  But speaking of blackmail, I would also like to show you a picture that really upset me from last night”  He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling.

I cringe.  There's only one massively stupid thing I did that would upset Todoroki enough to really reprimand me Mom-style.  So I blurt out my rationale in hopes of him being less harsh on me.  “Okay, but in my defense, Kaminari bet me three dollars that I couldn't drink all that shampoo.  What was I supposed to do, say no?"

“No that’s not-"  His heterochromatic hair bounces as his head snaps up at me.  "You drank shampoo!? How did- When did you do that, I was supposed to be watching you the entire night!”

Shit, that wasn't it.  "Well, obviously you didn’t do a good job since I drank a whole cup of shampoo and you didn’t stop me," I try to brush it off defensively.

Todoroki's mortified face is as pale as the right side of his hair, covering his mouth with his clenched fist.  "How are you standing right now?"  He looks like he's about to have a heart attack.

"Considering how I threw up as soon as I got home - which I'll be honest, I don't even know how that happened - and I couldn't even eat this morning, I'd say my body did a pretty good job of rejecting it."

My office mate has no idea how he's supposed to react to any of that.  His phone is frozen in his hand as he glares at me like I have three heads.  "Well.  What I was going to show you doesn't compare to that."  He puts his phone away and tries to regain his composure.

I mentally sigh in relief.  At least drinking shampoo was the stupidest thing I did all night.

"If you really would like to know," his face softens, "I was the one who took you home last night, since you were thoroughly intoxicated."

"Oh."  Now I feel guilty.  Not only was I probably being a troublesome brat for him to take care of, I didn't even remember his kindness.  And he even made me soup for my troubles.  "I'm so sorry, and you did all this for me, thank you, Todoroki."

"It's fine.  It's due to the alcohol that you can't recall, I understand.  Though," Todoroki's cheeks flush slightly, "There is something I'm confused about."

Oh fuck, I did the thing didn't I?

"At first, I thought it was also an effect of the alcohol, considering you licked Asui's face while you were dancing with her, and you were generally more touchy with everyone the whole night."  He has trouble looking me in the eyes now.  "But, you were saying things to me that I don't think you would tell anyone else."

My entire mind goes into overdrive, scrambling to piece together the narrative lost in my memory.  There's one major concern I have.  "Was I vulgar?"

"No, it was nothing like that," he shakes his head, allowing me to relax.  "But, it was...charming, I'd say."

I bury my face in my hands.  "Just tell me what I said already."  I'm ready to regret everything.

"You...said you wanted me to stay with you, because you wanted me to be the first thing you see in the morning."  He has trouble getting the words out, but his voice was still delicate and endearing.  "You said seeing me every day at work is something you look forward to.  You told me how handsome I look, especially on the few occasions when I wear glasses."  His blush intensifies as I slowly feel closer and closer to dying.  "There were many other compliments.  And then...you...kissed me."

FUCK, I DID THE THING.

"Or, at least you tried.  If that was something you really wanted, I couldn't let you do it while you were intoxicated and couldn't remember it later."

An ashamed apology bubbles in my throat, but my extreme embarrassment doesn't let it come out.  How pathetic I am admitting my feelings to the person I like while I was guzzled with alcohol and shampoo.

"Not to say I didn't want to kiss you."

I snap my head up, fully taking in his tomato-red appearance as he averts he bores affectionate eyes into mine.  Oh.

"I don't know if you're up for it, but would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" Todoroki officially requests.

My heart melts at his innocent confession and relief.  "S-Sure," I squeak.

Todoroki gives me a small smile and pats my head.  "Finish that soup and hurry to finish your work for the day," he chides before getting up and heading back to his own desk.

My chest remains clenched and my cheeks hurt from smiling continuously.  The only thing I regret now is not seeing buttoned-up, proper Todoroki drunk.