#not that it excuses anything since its no longer internalized since he's using it against another person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hqbbg · 5 years ago

Text

clean.

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader

prompt: “guess I'll just have to cum inside you.”

genre: smut

word count: 3.8K

warnings: 18+, masturbation, slight degradation, blowjob, some spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, vaginal s3x, creampie, this is legit just filth so please read at your own discretion

author’s note: this is my contribution to the Haikyuu!! Headquarters server collab! Find the masterlist of a bunch of other great writers here 💖 hope you enjoy!

A soft hiss slips past Sakusa’s lips as he tightens his grip around the base of his cock. He slides his hand up his girth and uses his thumb to collect some of the beading precum to smear around the bulbous head, biting his lip to not make too much noise.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, practically disgusted with himself because of the situation he’s placed himself in, but he couldn’t resist.

You’d asked him to accompany you to visit your parents for one week, which meant it was the first time he would meet them in person. Sure, he’s spoken with them whenever you’d call them, but he wanted to do his best to leave a good impression on them for their first time seeing him in person. It was their idea to let the two of you stay at their home to avoid spending money on finding a hotel and whatnot—not that Sakusa would’ve even considered staying in such a filthy and public place—but that meant that the two of you would be spending practically every hour of the day with your parents during the week-long trip. This also meant that the only true alone time was at night before bed, although your parents’ bedroom was right down the hall, so it wasn’t the amount of privacy that Sakusa would have liked.

It was your last evening with them, so your parents had offered to take the two of you out to a fancy dinner, having made reservations and everything. You were both told to dress appropriately for the upscale restaurant, which was something you must’ve known about beforehand because you had packed a clean, white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks for him and a fiery red dress for yourself that he didn’t recognize.

Sakusa was by no means addicted to sex, but the moment he had seen you slip into the dress, he had wanted to rip it right off. The way it hugged every dip and curve of your body just made you look absolutely ravishing and the heels you’d paired with it were icing on the cake. Had it not been for your parents calling the two of you to hurry to avoid missing your reservation, he might’ve just taken you then and there.

The dress proved to be an issue throughout the rest of the night, starting with the way you’d swayed your hips with every step you’d taken in it. Sakusa found himself having a harder time maintaining his composure as the night progressed, especially when your hand kept brushing his thigh under the table which made it hard for him to focus on whatever story your parents were telling, travelling higher and higher with every couple of laughs shared at the table. He even had to subtly grab your wrist to keep your fingers from grazing dangerously close to his twitching cock.

It was moments like these that he had wished he could wear his face mask; he would be able to cover his face and not look as suspicious as he did now.

He had watched you from his peripherals, the way you were licking your spoon clean of the dessert your family had ordered for the table and the only thing he could think about was wanting your lips around his growing erection. He might’ve imagined it, but he also could’ve sworn that he saw your eyes flicker to him and your lips quirk into a smirk.

You knew exactly what you were doing and were clearly enjoying yourself too much.

He had to excuse himself from the dinner table before the check arrived and practically ran from the table, internally appreciating the fact that the restaurant had a single-use bathroom. He was quick to lock the door and undo his belt and pants, freeing his throbbing cock from its restraints and stood over the toilet.

He’s repulsed by the idea of touching any surface in this bathroom, no matter how nice it seems, but he knows that if he doesn’t take care of this issue now, it’ll only pose a problem later.

Sakusa’s pace is unforgiving as he spits into his own hand to help it move more smoothly up and down his cock. He closes his eyes and thinks of you, what it would be like if you were to be in this bathroom with him.

He thinks about the way you had slowly dragged your tongue along the dip of your spoon and bites his lip, wanting you to do the same to him from the base of his cock to the tip. You’d probably do it to tease him before dragging your tongue along his slit, coating him in your drool. You always like to kiss the red tip before wrapping your lips around it, swirling your tongue around as you pull your head back and release him with a ‘pop!’

He can practically see behind his closed lids the look you’d have on your face, grinning mischievously up at him as you wrap your nimble fingers around him and giving him a few generous pumps before leaning forward again to try and swallow him whole. Your fingers would grip and massage his balls, always earning the same reaction of him wanting to grip your hair and push you further down, relishing in your whines and moans whenever you’d feel him at the back of your throat.

Sakusa’s eyes flutter open and he’s breathing heavily as he watches his own hand squeeze and tug his cock—your cock.

He can feel his orgasm nearing and he continues to hiss and moan your name under his breath. Just as he feels that he can see the light at the end of the tunnel, there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, Omi? Are you in there?”

He can’t stop, he needs to finish, he needs to finish—

“You’ve been in there for a while. Is everything okay? My parents wanted me to check up on you.”

Sakusa slows himself down, bitterly reminded that he has people waiting on him.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he says, feeling frustrated that the moment is lost. He had been so close yet so far.

“Are you okay?” you ask once he steps out of the bathroom. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks upset.

He glances around the area for a moment before looking at you and grabbing your hand, guiding it to the pressing matter that is straining against his pants. He can see your eyes widen with realization and feels his lips twitch at the fact that you have the audacity to give him a squeeze through his fabric.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses as he moves your hand away.

“I should be asking you that,” you tease him with a small smirk, indicating that you knew exactly what you’ve been doing all night, much to Sakusa’s frustrated dismay.

“Let’s just get back to your parents,” he grumbles. You do your best to conceal your giggle as the two of you walk back towards the dinner table. Sakusa tries to walk at an angle so his erection is hidden from plain sight behind you and the two of you arrive back at the table.

“Oh, there you are! Is everything alright?”

Sakusa nods, not wanting to be disrespectful, but finds it hard to focus his thoughts on anything but the idea of taking you tonight.

“Kiyoomi’s not feeling very well,” you say.

“Oh, it was probably something in that appetizer. I haven’t been feeling very good myself since we ate that.”

“Let’s hurry home then.”

Music to Sakusa’s ears.

Ever the gentleman, he holds the door open for you and you give him a sickeningly sweet and innocent smile as you slide into the backseat. He follows you in shortly and is relieved that it’s dark in the small compact space as the car begins to move.

He tries to ignore you as you slide yourself snug next to him, pressing yourself against him with every turn the car makes. You have your eyes fixed on the road ahead, but your hand finds its way onto Sakusa’s thigh once again. You feel his muscles tense under your fingers, and you try to resist the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He looks as if he’s holding his breath and has one hand gripping the armrest on the door while the other holds your wrist. You glance at him innocently and the look in his eyes is dangerous.

Your attention is averted when your parents ask a question and you casually reply, retracting your hand back to yourself. Sakusa visibly relaxes for a few moments and you try not to laugh.

As your parents continue to converse with the both of you, you take advantage of this time and slide your hand between his legs as he answers a question about his occupation, giving his still very erect cock a squeeze. His voice cracks and he quickly tries to recover by coughing and clearing his throat, both your parents stifling giggles as you yourself try not to burst out laughing.

His fingers are wrapped around your wrist again as he jerks it away. He leans in towards you and you do your best not to shiver upon feeling his hot breath fan against your neck.

“Just wait until we get home,” he all but growls lowly in your ear. You can practically feel the heat radiating off his body before he pulls back and sits up in his seat, keeping his grip firm around your wrist for the rest of the car ride home.

When the car finally arrives in front of the house, Sakusa does his best to remain polite yet feels his patience running thin when you take your time chatting with your parents about something that he had been too distracted to pay attention to earlier. He shifts uncomfortably as everyone gets out of the car and moves to the front door at an achingly slow pace, feeling anxious to hurry and get inside.

Unfortunately, the torture for him doesn’t end there, as you choose to stay in the living room and chat for a little longer about something he knows can be held another time. You do a good job of positioning yourself in front of him, so your parents are still blissfully unaware of the bulge in his pants and keep their focus on you until you finally bid your parents goodnight.

The walk to your shared bedroom is short, but you take your time, knowing that Sakusa is probably ready to snap at any moment. He proceeds to prove you right as you step into your bedroom and he’s quick to follow you in. Before you can even say or do anything, you feel him grip your wrist and pull you back, turning around to push you against the door, causing it to slam shut. Your eyes widen on instinct and you feel his calloused fingers wrap around your neck as he leans in close.

“You think you’re so cute acting like that in front of your parents, huh?”

You resist the whimper bubbling in your throat as you look up at him, his eyes dark as he stares you down.

“If you want to be a slut, then get on your knees and act like one,” he growls and releases your throat. You do little to protest, sliding down the door and getting on your knees as you were told. A familiar heat begins to burn between your legs.

Little time is wasted in unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his slacks as you use nimble fingers to quickly free him of his cloth prison. You feel your mouth water at the strained outline of his bulging cock through the darkness of his boxers and yank the fabric down to let it all pool at his feet. The hardened length practically springs to life and you waste no time in gripping it and giving it a few pumps before wrapping your lips around it.

Sakusa throws his head back at the warmth of your mouth and bites his lip, knowing that if he’s too loud, your parents might hear. He hangs his head back forward and watches as you gingerly suck on him, cheeks hollowing out as you use your hand to grip and squeeze what doesn’t fit in your mouth. He rakes his fingers through your hair, gripping a handful in the back to roughly push you deeper. You try not to gag and choke at the sudden pressure, feeling tears sting your eyes as he holds you there for a few seconds. When his grip loosens, you pull your head back and gasp for air, feeling a thin string of saliva connect your lips to his cock. Your eyes flicker up and you instantly feel another surge of warmth between your legs at the sight of Sakusa’s half-lidded eyes, parted lips, and pink cheeks.

Your fingers make their way to his balls and massage them, and you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock from the base to the tip. The wet muscle drags along the ridges, tracing a particularly thick vein.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “This is what you wanted all along, huh, you little slut?”

You continue to bob your head, humming in response as he grunts at the vibrations. You can feel that he’s close as he rocks his hips to match your pace, gripping a fistful of your hair again to force more of himself down your throat.

“I’m getting close,” he grits through his teeth as his pace quickens. Tears are once again prickling your eyes, threatening to spill over as he roughly fucks into your mouth. “You’re gonna swallow my cum like the good little cock slut you are, got it?”

You can barely even whimper in response before he holds your head still and you can feel his essence shoot down your throat. You swallow everything you can, swirling your tongue around his length to lick any remnants away until he practically jerks your head away from him. Your lips release him with a ‘pop!’ sound and he hisses at how sensitive he is. You wipe some of the excess that’s dribbled down your chin and look up at him, trying to keep your coughing at a minimum.

“Get on the bed.”

He stands back a little to give you enough room to stand and you quickly shuffle your feet towards the bed, trying to recover while ignoring the subtle soreness developing in your throat. You sit down on the edge and watch him as he begins to unbutton his shirt, your eyes slowly trailing down his broad chest to his cock that’s still standing tall and proud.

He must’ve been really pent up.

You sit in eager anticipation of what he’ll do next, unable to tear your eyes away from his as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off. He tosses it aside and leans down so he’s at eye level with you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight,” he says, “but your parents might hear us, so you have to be quiet, okay?”

You nod.

“Good,” he says, straightening himself. You can’t help but feel slightly disappointed, having hoped that he would at least kiss you. “Turn around on all fours.”

His voice is husky, and you simply do as you’re told, climbing slightly higher up on the bed in the position he wants you in. You feel the bed dip with his added weight and turn your head slightly to see what he’s doing. He admires your backside for a moment before lifting your dress up and hooking his fingers onto the hem of your panties. He roughly pulls them down and nearly rips them in the process, but before you can even say anything in protest, a large palm lands firmly against your exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise and he looks at you with a quirked brow.

“I said to be quiet, didn’t I?”

“Sorry,” you bite your lip as he tugs your panties down your legs. You lift one leg at a time until he’s able to fully remove them, expecting him to simply toss them aside. To your surprise, he reaches forward and shoves your panties into your mouth.

“That’s better,” he grunts with a smirk on his lips. You probably shouldn’t feel as aroused as you are at this commanding side of Sakusa.

You feel a thick finger swipe upwards against your slick folds and you whimper as he examines his glistening fingertip. You want to say something, but feel two digits abruptly insert themselves in and you’re suddenly glad you have something to muffle the moan that’s ripped from you.

His pace is quick and rough, and you bite down harder on the fabric in your mouth as your back arches, your head hanging low. You use one hand to rub at your clit, only finding momentary relief until Sakusa ministers another slap against your ass.

“Did I say you could touch yourself, you fucking whore?”

You shake your head and remove your hand, bringing it back to its original position. You grip the sheets in your fists as you feel his fingers curl and reach a particularly deep spot within you, making it very hard for you to keep quiet. You lean forward onto your elbows and bury your face into the sheets, feeling that you will be too loud otherwise.

Just as you feel your first orgasm approaching, Sakusa removes his fingers and you’re left clenching around nothing. You lift and turn your head to look behind you in frustration, though you’re not left frustrated for long.

Sakusa positions the fat tip of his cock in front of your hole and slides in without warning, warranting an immediate and loud moan from you. Your underwear falls from your mouth and your eyes practically roll to the back of your head as you’re filled to the brim with him. You can feel a rough hand grip your hip while the other finds its way around your throat. He pulls you up so your back is pressed against his chest and you want to turn your head to kiss him, but he quickly attaches his lips to your neck, sucking and nibbling against your sweet spot. You’re quick to tilt your head to give him easier access, one hand reaching behind you to grab Sakusa’s hair, weaving your fingers through his thick curls, while the other grips at his arm as it moves between your legs and finally touches the sensitive bundle of nerves. He rubs rough circles as his hips continue to snap against yours and you’re racing to the finish line that is your orgasm.

He begins to whisper dirty things into your ear, calling you his good little cumslut and you clamp your hand over your mouth to quiet your moans, though you’re sure it’s ineffective. The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with the overwhelming pleasure muddles your senses and the only thing you can think of is how good Sakusa feels inside of you. After a few more rough thrusts, you feel your walls clamp down as your orgasm washes over you.

Sakusa slows down, finding it increasingly harder to maintain his rhythm as your velvet walls tighten around him and he knows he won’t last much longer. He decides to pull out, however, letting you go, and sitting back. Your muscles are shaky as you look at him, confused and fucked out.

“I didn’t cum yet,” he says simply, tilting his head slightly as he leans back against his palms on the bed. You bite your lip, understanding his implications and crawl over to him on your wobbly arms and legs. You throw your leg over him so you’re straddling him, placing one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself while the other grips his throbbing cock to position at your dripping entrance.

You slowly lower yourself down, whimpering at the sensitivity until he’s fully sheathed within you. You place both of your hands on his shoulders and bury your face into his neck as you slowly rock your hips, rotating them every so often. Sakusa lifts his hands to finally unzip your wrinkled dress and you tiredly lift your arms so he can lift the fabric over your head, leaving you completely bare before him. As you continue to rotate your hips lazily, he palms your breasts and looks up at you. You finally take this chance to press your lips against his, having wanted to do this all night and wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his tongue push past your lips. You entangle your fingers through his hair again and moan against his lips as he pinches your pebbling nipples, eventually sliding his hands down the dip and curve of your waist to your hips. He helps guide you as you move up and down, his hips meeting you halfway.

He’s not as rough as he’s been, knowing how overstimulated you already are, though his hips begin to move faster. It eventually gets to a point where you have no choice but to bury your face into his neck to stifle your moans as he holds your hips still and simply thrusts upwards against them. You feel another orgasm quickly approaching and know that this time, Sakusa is right there with you.

“Fuck, baby,” he hisses. “I’m gonna cum.”

“We can’t get my parents’ sheets dirty,” you pant as you lift your head slightly.

“Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you,” he grunts as he begins to pick up the pace. You bite your lip as another wave of pleasure begins to crash over you, consuming you completely. Not too long after, you feel Sakusa begin to shoot ropes cum inside of you, painting your insides white. He finds your lips quickly and kisses you to let you swallow his moans, slowing his movements to an eventual stop.

The two of you sit there, panting heavily in your post-sex glow. You slowly lift yourself off, wincing at the oversensitivity while Sakusa carefully moves to the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?” You ask as you watch him stand.

“We’re all sweaty, so we have to shower now,” he replies, beginning his trek towards the bathroom. He turns when he realizes you’re still awkwardly positioned on the bed to not let any of his cum spill out of you and onto the sheets. “Well, are you coming?”

“I can’t feel my legs,” you frown slightly.

“If you were good, I wouldn’t have had to be so rough. You can make it up to me in the shower.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #sakusa x you #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu smut #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #hrnybbg

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dracowars · 4 years ago

Note

Really love your draco ficsss 🤗🤗🤗 i was wondering if you can make one before the war where draco obliviated reader then looks for her after the war aaaa would love to see your take on ittt tag me

remember me | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,8k

summary: where draco obliviates y/n

a/n: while doing research for this one i didn’t even know that when you use obliviate, you can’t reverse it anymore if you’ve used the wand for another spell :o i guess you always learn something new lmao @belladaises i hope you like it! <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

Footsteps and screams echo through the dark corridors of Hogwarts as Draco finds himself in one of the hallways after apparating there mere seconds ago. Getting to the right place at the right time, he immediately gets hold of some of the Slytherins, including his friends, whom he pulls with him, informing them about his – or rather Lord Voldemort’s – plan. Draco knows what he has to do, but he also knows the consequences his actions will have.

His hands are shaking, and he is having a difficult time to breathe after they walked from one side of the castle to the other, wands drawn and always at the ready in case there are any emergencies or incidents on their way. What Draco did not expect, however, is that he will find you along his way.

With a pained expression on your face, you lean against one of the cold brick walls, about to lose your footing and to fall to the ground when Draco is already at your side and catches you in his arms before you can hit the hard floor. Previously, he quickly ordered Blaise and Goyle to move on without him and wait for him until he is done here. Carefully, Draco sinks to the ground with you and places you close to him in order to be able to take a closer look at you.

“Y/N! Y/N, what happened?”, he asks you with concern in his voice and already reproaches himself internally for not being here to fight by your side. But he knows that he can’t. After all, you are on the opposite sides in this terrible war.

Slowly, you raise your head and do not seem to recognize him at first, until your vision clears, and you look directly into his worried face. You immediately push yourself closer to him, his closeness bringing you some calmness and making you feel protected and safe, although walls are blown up around you while wizards and witches give their lives in the bitter fight for Hogwarts.

“D-Draco? You are here”, you breath out, your voice rough and strained from your previous screams. You had split up into groups to face the Death Eaters, but you were separated from them when a part of the ceiling fell down, several pieces burying you beneath them. The hope that is now reflected in your eyes upon seeing him, here and with you, breaks Draco’s heart. You really think he is on your side.

It is only when you groan in pain that Draco realizes that you are clutching your leg, which is covered in blood.

“Come on, I will get you out of here”, he whispers to you and helps you straighten up, the guilt plaguing him. You are badly injured, and he was not here to prevent you from getting hurt. Carefully, he puts your arm around his shoulder so you can move faster together than if he would carry you. Since it is not anything than safe here right now, Draco hurries to get you out of there as fast as possible.

“It is not as bad as it looks. I promise”, you try to calm him down, but once your foot touches the ground you twitch in insufferable pain and pull your foot back with a hiss, your hand immediately going to your tigh where it hurts the most.

“What happened?”

“I was careless and then a part of the ceiling buried me beneath it.”

The shock on Draco’s face is enormous when he realizes what could have happened, how it could have ended with you laying under masses of bricks with no one knowing. That he could and still can lose you in this bitter war for life and death. Briefly, he carefully inspects your leg – broken – and without any hesitation, he picks you up in his arms and carries you to a safer place. The safest place would probably be where all students, who do not fight, are hiding, but if Draco asked you about it, he would have to pass this very important piece of information on. And thus, he would also leave you to a terrible fate.

“You are safe here. For the time being”, he finally says as he places you at the end of a staircase that no longer leads to where it originally should, and kneels down in front of you, stroking his hand over your cheek lovingly. Shaking, you place your own on top of his and press his palm to your skin to feel its warmth.

“Draco, if we make it to the seventh floor then-“

“Do not tell me. Please”, he almost begs you. His pleading leaves you puzzled and slowly but surely makes you doubt why he is actually here. Gently, Draco takes your hand in his and places a delicate kiss on your knuckles. You sadly watch him until you bring up the courage to ask this one question that burns on your tongue.

“Why are you here, Draco?”

The realization hits you like a train, much more painful than the pain in your leg, when he just looks at you with glassy eyes and fails to give you an answer. Tears well up in your eyes when you notice that you no longer have your loving boyfriend in front of you, but your enemy.

“Why, Draco?”, you ask him desperately, the first tear already finding its way down your cheek, but Draco does not have the heart to look into your eyes, too scared to see the pain and disappointment in them. Sighing, he shakes his head, letting it sink.

“Everything will be fine, I promise”, he manages to say while his heart contracts in pain. Suddenly, he perceives voices that are still far away, but he hears them coming closer. With trembling hands, he reaches for your wand, which is sticking out of your boot as he has made his final decision. Confused, you look back and forth between him and the wand in his hand.

“What are you going to do? D-Draco? You do not have to do this”, you stutter out as he looks directly at you with his gray eyes which seem much darker now. Gray eyes that once shone with so much affection and now only radiate a tremendous coldness that makes you shudder.

“Now listen carefully to what I say, Y/N. You have to promise me that you will not use your wand anymore”, Draco explains to you, but you can only look at him speechlessly while tears run down your cheeks in waterfalls, not knowing what he will do next.

“I am so sorry”, is the last thing he says to you before casting a spell. “Obliviate.”

With these words, Draco pulls any memories you have of him out of your mind. Every shared laughter, every shared grief, he frees you from all of it. He frees you from the burden of ever knowing him.

With one quick movement he puts your wand back in its original place and quickly stands up, watching how your face loses all emotion as you abruptly stop crying over nothing. Before he can regret his decision, he turns away from you and looks into the corridor from which he previously heard the voices. At the other end of the corridor, he discovers Neville Longbottom, who is running through Hogwarts with some students. Clenching his fists, Draco walks in the middle of the corridor, facing them from afar.

“Neville!”, Draco shouts as loud as he can, immediately gaining Neville’s attention, who now comes running towards him with his wand drawn, ready to attack. Draco swiftly runs back to where you still lean against the wall, but just as Neville turns around the corner, Draco disapparates to another part of Hogwarts.

You are safe at last.

════════════

Surrounded by nothing but rubble and ashes, Draco wanders through the last remains of Hogwarts alone. His clothes are torn apart, and his face is soiled – all signs of the bitter fight that took place here before. But now it is over. They lost.

But Draco does not care who won or lost. He chose to switch sides in the end anyway. All he wants now is one more thing: to find you and to make sure you are okay. Every time he trips over a lifeless body on the ground, he looks away in fear that he may recognize your face in one of the corpses. Pressing his hand against his aching left shoulder, he walks into what is left of the Great Hall and a glimmer of hope builds inside of him as he recognizes Neville standing in the middle of it.

Quickening his pace, Draco walks towards him, his gaze fixed on the people he is currently talking to. When Draco gets to them, however, his heart sinks and panic pervades him as he does not see you. You are not here.

Desperately searching for any signs of you, he looks around, his pulse getting faster by the second, until Neville finally taps on his shoulder and points to somewhere behind him. Draco turns around immediately, only to see you limp into the Great Hall with the help of Ginny Weasley, improvised stabilization around your broken leg.

Tears of joy well up in Draco’s eyes and he cannot help but run up to you and close you in a tight hug that almost knocks the both of you off your feet. Draco exhales in relief, clutching his arms around your fragile body, glad to hold you in his arms again, until he notices that you are trying to push him away.

Realization his Draco and he abruptly moves away from you.

“What was that supposed to mean?”, you ask him reproachfully, irritated as to why Draco Malfoy almost suffocated you in a hug.

“I- Well-“, he stutters, but the fact that you actually do not know him anymore is driving an ache through Draco’s chest again. “Where is your wand?”

“Excuse me?”, you huff out, the confusion evident on your face, but Draco quickly reaches for you wand before you can react, which pokes out of your boot, as always. Internally praying that you listened to him and did not use it when he was not by your side, he reverses the Memory Charm and watches a white streak touch your temple, piercing through your skin before vanishing completely.

You blink once, then a few times rapidly, adjusting your eyes to the light and when your gaze falls on Draco, tears well up in your eyes right away.

“Thank God”, Draco sighs in relief and hugs you tightly, but this time you actually return the hug. Weeping, you claw your hands into his shirt, your tears wetting the fabric, whispering what an idiot he had been and that he should never do this to you again. But at this moment nothing else matters.

You survived and found each other again despite the difficulties and obstacles. And from now on nothing and no one will separate you again. Ever.

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Falling

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Angst | NC-17 | 11K

Summary: In the absence of your warmth, Lee Donghyuck begins to reminisce the loving memories he’s shared with you in the past three years, regretting how your first fight turned into something that ended it all. Lyrics are taken from this beautiful song: Harry Style’s Falling.

Warnings: Unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!), oral sex, alcohol consumption, swearing

I'm in my bed

And you're not here

The small, barely prominent crack on the ceiling of his bedroom has always gone unnoticeable. It stands only as a silent witness of the meeting between a pair of plumps lips to redder ones, the breathless sounds of frantic moans, and the sacred exchange of loving words. But not tonight. Tonight, as he lays on his bed, sheets all crumpled but with the absence of your warmth, Donghyuck notices everything.

He notices how quiet his room—his entire apartment—feels when it’s only the sound of his own, soft breathing echoes through the air. The walls, the carpet, the bedsheets, the framed photographs that remind him of the joy that used to bloom on his face—everything feels monochromatic. Empty. Shallow. Because ever since you walked out of his life, you’ve taken all the colors with you, leaving him solely in black and white.

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands

With the bitter taste of vodka sitting on his tongue, Donghyuck closes his eyes, allowing himself to remember but not forgive the words he once said to you.

Regrets start to suffocate him at once.

Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left

What hurts from a break-up is not the parting of two hearts, but the memories that had been drawn deep within them. It’s not the kiss that he misses, it’s the taste of your lips—the faint scent of strawberry that sits pale in comparison to your natural flavor. It’s the way they move against his own, timid at first then consuming all at once. And how there will be no other girl that will taste the same, feel the same, or emit the same kind of feelings from him.

It’s funny, Donghyuck thinks, how he can only see your smile behind his closed eyelids these days. But he doesn’t find himself laughing. He can’t even remember the last time he found a reason to smile, now that you’re gone.

The moon was hiding behind thick clouds, he remembers, that night when fate walked in and introduced you to one another.

Donghyuck’s eyes were glued to the silver screen, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he witnessed the battle between the villain and the protagonist grew deadly. The thrill of it soon perished, however, when a scent of chamomile shampoo fleeted through his nose.

Your head was falling onto his shoulder as you waned into your dreamland. Unbeknownst to you, you had been leaning your weight entirely to a stranger whose bergamot perfume compelled you to focus on anything besides the movie. It was as pleasant as it was distracting. But after being sleep deprived for three days, exhaustion finally took over and you fell asleep so deeply, you didn’t even have the strength to dream.

Your weight on his body was unfamiliar but it wasn’t uncomfortable for twenty-two years-old Lee Donghyuck. As he took a glance at your face, it wasn’t your beauty that kept him frozen—except for the gentle smile that broke on his lips. It was how peaceful you looked, almost like an enervated child curling up after spending her time chasing butterflies on the field.

Donghyuck shifted carefully on his seat, attempting his best to give you comfort by providing more space for you to lean your weight on. Then he stayed still, his smile never faltered away, the movie long forgotten. He didn’t spare a glance at the screen even when people were gasping at the sight of the protagonist dying in his lover’s arms. He was more intrigued by the thought of your name, wondering whether it would sound as nice as the smell of your shampoo.

When the credits rolled, Donghyuck told Mark and Jeno in hushed whispers to leave without him, throwing icy glares at them when they grinned devilishly at the sight of you sleeping on his shoulder. He went as further as kicking Jeno on the shin when his voice rose too loudly, afraid that he’d wake you up, which made the other man complain because certainly, the background music was louder than anything else in the room.

Nevertheless, you were still deep in your slumber.

Donghyuck begged for more time when one of the concessions workers asked him to leave. Refused and left with no other solution, he sighed and turned his head toward you.

“Hey,” he whispered, heart palpitating in anticipation of finally hearing your voice. “We have to go.”

His voice was foreign to your ears but it was so soothing, almost like a lullaby, that you snuggled closer, wanting to hear more of it. It took Donghyuck three times more with his cheeks reddening to call upon you until you finally found the power to detach yourself from your stupor.

“Hey there,” a boy—beautiful boy—with glowing, sun-kissed skin; round, enticing eyes; and a voice as sweet as honey, beamed at you with a smile so warm, it nearly melted your heart, and you decided ah, I don’t ever want to wake up from this dream.

It was when the usher popped into your vision, stating, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but we’re closing,” that you internally screamed oh God, no, this isn’t a dream, what have I done?

“So that’s what he said.” Donghyuck’s smile was sheepish with a tint of teasing, and your heart moved on its own, yearning for him to display you another one. “But if you still have time to spare, we can go get some coffees or something. I can fill you in on the details.”

“A—” Your voice was hoarse from sleep, embarrassingly so. “About what?”

“About the movie you just missed.” The grin he showcased grew wider and this time, it was so utterly mischievous that you had to break your gaze before heat rushed to your face. “The fact that you’re here watching a movie by yourself must mean you’re interested to see how it ends. I can help you with that.”

“Umm—” You rummaged your purse, pretending like you were searching for something when it was only a poor excuse for you to not be captivated by his eyes longer than you already were. “It’s fine, I can look it up online.”

“But then what should I do with this?” He brought his right hand in the air, pursing his lips. “My arm’s falling asleep. Shouldn’t you take responsibility for it?”

The horrified look on your face made him laugh, and his laughter became the reason why you decided to throw all common sense away and just went with what felt right.

Awkward conversations made you anxious but they died before you could finish your coffee. They were reborn into something that was supposed to only be shared between friends instead of strangers, but with Donghyuck, everything felt so natural, you didn’t even find the will to question it. His affable, carefree attitude was almost inspiring, breaking through your facade as easy as counting his fingers.

“So, how come you went to the movies by yourself?” Donghyuck asked, his coffee long forgotten on the table as he was more drawn to you and the little smile you retained on your lips. “Boyfriend too busy to come along?”

A bit flustered, you brought your head down, hiding your eyes behind your fringe. “I don’t... have a boyfriend.”

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, lying his chin on his palm as he rested his elbow on the table. The way he stared at you made your stomach flip, and he reciprocated with nothing but a hum, tapping a finger to his cheek. His tiny smile held a thousand meaning.

You hurriedly took a sip of your coffee. “I, uhh, I had some free time today and it’s my favorite movie franchise—I just got to see how it ended. But all my friends have seen it, so…”

“They didn’t invite you?”

“They did. I was just busy with work.”

His voice dropped an octave lower. “And they didn’t wait for you.”

“It’s—” Your chest tightened. “It’s fine, really. I mean, it would only make me feel bad if they waited for me. My schedule is crazy. I haven’t been sleeping properly for three days because of my deadlines.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” He chuckled and you noticed how his teeth were a little jagged. “I could still smell your drool on my shirt, actually.”

“Oh my God,” you spluttered. “I’m—Please let me wash it for you.”

“And you expect me to walk home half-naked?” His naughty eyebrow raise made your skin tingle. “Or are you inviting me to stay over?” Seeing you part your mouth but lost for words, Donghyuck tittered. “I’m kidding. I would’ve waited for you. No matter how busy you were, I would. And even if I’ve watched it first, I wouldn’t mind watching it again with you.”

You shook your head, both in attempts to disagree with his words and to erase your blush away. “But that would be a waste of money—”

“That wouldn’t be a waste, and you know why?” He leaned closer, body almost halfway through the table. “Because for me, it’s never about the movie. It’s about watching it together with you. About us complaining about the plot holes, talking about the bad acting, laughing at each other when something reminds us of one of our inside jokes. That’s what makes it worth.” As Donghyuck realized how your eyes were locked with his, your breath hitching in your throat with the proximity, he quickly plummeted back to his seat, flushed. “I mean, it applies to everyone—not you, specifically.”

So he could be shy, you wondered. And what else could he be? Maybe buried underneath those mischievous grins, laid a caring heart. Maybe he could be the one who’d understand when you missed three of his calls as you tried to survive your deadlines. Maybe he would cook you breakfast instead of just reminding you to take one. Maybe he could taste sweeter than any boy you’d ever kissed.

So when his curiosity for you matched the intensity you had towards him, you let your walls crumble, welcoming him with open arms.

“It’s going to rain,” Donghyuck mentioned, eyes observing the night sky, dark clouds rumbling as they hovered above you. You were walking next to him, knuckles nearly grazing one another from how near you were though none of you was brave enough to close the distance.

Although obvious, you decided to humor him. “Yeah? How can you tell?”

“‘Cause I’m psychic.” The added wink in the end was a bonus but to you, it became the main reason why you had to drag your gaze to your feet.

Funny how for the past three hours, your smile never faltered away—almost to the point that your cheekbones began to hurt—when you could barely remember the last time you found amusement in anything.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and you promptly shook your head no. Unfortunately for you, your body betrayed you. Donghyuck chuckled softly when he noticed the shivers that ran through your spine. “Want me to lend you my jacket?”

“Oh—no, it’s fine, I’m—”

“It was a rhetorical question, dummy.” The body heat that was imprinted on his leather jacket made you well-aware of just how warm he actually was. The scent of his bergamot perfume was overwhelmingly delightful, but there was another scent underneath it—something that reminded you of summer, sunlight, and sandalwood—that made you wonder, maybe, if he wasn’t wearing this perfume, he’d smell just like this.

He pushed your hair away from your neck, straightening the jacket until it enveloped you entirely with its warmth. “Better?”

You eventually managed to snap yourself out of your reverie. “Were you always this smooth with women?”

“No, I just practiced in front of my mirror a lot.”

“Practiced what?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “The art of seduction.”

“Is that so?” Your cheeks began to warm but it was probably because of the jacket. “Guess I should try that sometimes,” you joked.

“I don’t think you need it,” he cooed, bending himself down a little so you were eye-to-eye. “You already have me wrapped around your fingers from the second I laid my eyes on you.” When you became petrified by his words, his laughter reverberated through the air. “Now, that’s an example. How did I do?”

Ignoring your racing heart, you retorted, “Terrible.”

“Then will you let me practice on you so I can get better?”

Just like that, you found yourself sporting another smile. “Now, that’s smooth.”

Your life had been dull, repeating the same routines over and over again with your job taking most of your precious hours. Being with Donghyuck was a breath of fresh air—a stranger who was attentive to every little gesture you made, every little word that escaped your mouth, as much as he easily stole your attention away. His confidence was inspiring, his laughter was contagious, and you adored every little bit of his quirkiness.

“This feels like a date,” he professes, smiling diffidently to himself. “Would it be okay for me to think of it as a date?”

Suddenly, your vocabulary had diminished into nothing but his name. You nodded, and surprisingly enough for you, Donghyuck snickered, hand reaching out to playfully—almost childishly—ruffle your strands. “Thanks. Then a date it is.”

You wished time could go slower so you could savor the moment, memorizing the heart shape of his lips when he grinned.

You stopped in front of your apartment building, a breeze of cold night wind caressing your cheeks. “Umm, this is me,” you said, dismantling his leather jacket of your body. “Thank you... for this.”

Donghyuck’s fingertips grazed against your knuckles and it took longer than necessary for him to retrieve it from your hand. “You’re welcome.”

“And...” Your mind strayed away from forming the right words as you took notice of him wearing his leather jacket, how it fitted him so perfectly, how handsome he looked. “Umm, thank you for walking me back.”

“Thank you for giving me the chance.” His smile reminded you of spring, your favorite season, the way it blossomed on his face, so warm and beautiful. “I could’ve been a serial killer, you know. Showing me where you live isn’t too smart.”

“You don’t look like a serial killer to me.”

“Yeah?” His smile turned impish. “Then, how do I look like to you?”

You were fast to pivot on your heels. “I think I should go.”

His laughter filled the air. “Wait, I haven’t even said good night yet.”

“Then good ni—“ Your words died on your tongue when a pair of plump lips found their way to your cheek, just brushing lightly against the skin but your entire breath escaped your lungs at once. He retraced his steps before you could respond properly, biting the corner of his lip, looking somewhat unsure.

“Sorry if that’s—“ Donghyuck cleared his throat. “Umm, good night.”

You felt lightheaded, and you shortly blamed it on the amount of espresso you’d gulped too much during the day. “Good… night…”

Donghyuck was too bashful to meet your eyes, which was why you were brave enough to sneak a glimpse at his face. You decided that his sly, confident grins looked alluring on his face, but they were nothing compared to how adorable he seemed when he evinced that nervous, shy look on his face.

It took a few seconds before Donghyuck gave you a weak nod and walked away, taking the same direction from where you came. Something queasy grew inside your stomach, your grip around your purse tightening.

Is it all there is? Am I never going to see him again?

With a heavy sigh, you walked toward your building.

Maybe he doesn't like me that much... But what do I do now? I want to see him again.

I don’t want to let him go without knowing whether I could see him again.

God, for once, just do something for yourself. Do something that makes you happy, be brave!

Taking a deep breath, you chose to gamble.

At the same time you turned on your heels, shouting his name, Donghyuck was calling upon yours and you both met each other halfway, breathless when it didn’t even take you more than twenty steps to reach one another.

“H-hi,” you greeted, voice quivering but not as much as the fingers you curled around the hem of your blouse.

“Hey.” Donghyuck’s gaze softened. “I was wondering—”

“Can we meet again?” You didn’t intend to cut him off so abruptly, but the anxiety within you nearly made your heart burst that you ended up asking the question without waiting for him to finish his. “I—I mean—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Yes, a thousand times yes,” he answered in one breath, with his sentence ending in chuckles. “You’re adorable, do you know that?”

Your heart was still about to burst but for an entirely different reason. “That’s…” You tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear—a habit that seemed to appear whenever you were too embarrassed to function. “That’s great. I mean, the fact that you want to see me again, not—” Oh God, okay, stop. “Well, then, umm, I guess I should leave now.”

He concealed his grin. “Aren’t you going to ask for my number or something?”

You mentally slapped yourself. “Y-yes, that would make it easier.”

The way Donghyuck was gazing at you made you feel like you were about to fall from the edge of your seat. He must think I’m an idiot. But had you been brave enough to see the gleam in his eyes, you would’ve noticed how he was staring at you so adoringly. “Give me your phone then.” When you just stood still, too busy trying to comprehend that a cute boy was really going to give you his number, Donghyuck added, “To add my numbers, Sweetheart. What, do I look like someone who flirts with pretty girls just to steal their phones away?”

“I wasn’t—” You quickly handed him your phone. “Here.”

Donghyuck’s smile grew playful again. “Care to make it interesting?”

“What?”

“I’ll add my numbers except for the last digit. You gotta guess it.”

“What? Why—”

“Because you’re cute,” he repeated, cocking his head as he returned your phone. “And it makes me want to tease you even more.” You unconsciously began to pout and he nearly whimpered at the sight. “Don’t do that, that’s not fair.”

You mumbled quietly, “I don’t like being made fun of.”

“I’m not making fun of you, I’m teasing you. There’s a difference.” He sighed, fingertips aching to reach out and swat your bangs away from your eyes. “A huge difference.”

You jutted out your bottom lip. “Feels the same to me.”

Donghyuck leaned in, calloused palm finding its way to cup your cheek, lifting your face so the streetlight could illuminate your features. “You need to wash that pout away from your face,” he whispered, eyes slowly going down to your lips that you had to remind yourself to breathe. “Or else I won’t be able to hold myself back.”

It was supposed to be another teasing, you knew he only meant it that way. But all trace of playfulness quickly vanished from his face when he noticed your eyes drifting to his lips—just for a split second—but that was enough. He saw the sign, he felt the chemistry, and there was no way he was going to let it pass just like that. Not when he had been thinking the same thing repeatedly for the last three hours you’d been together.

It wasn’t your first kiss—nor your second or third—but it was the kiss that mattered and you weren’t sure why. Three hours ago, he was a stranger. Now, he sent a trickle of electricity through your bloodstream, as if he was your first love. As if you had been wanting him for years.

A gentle rain began to pour over your heads, tiny droplets staining your cheeks but all you could think about was the way his thumb was caressing your cheekbone, how his lips were warmer and softer than anything you could have imagined, yet fierce and powerful at the same time.

“Am I going too fast?” He asked in a broken whisper, parting away just enough to murmur the question but close enough that you could still feel his words grazing your lips.

“Yes.” But you curled your fingers on the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. Donghyuck sighed into your mouth, eyebrows furrowing as he let himself drown deeper in passion. What started as a chaste kiss became ardent, and you allowed him to taste you enough so that he would fall asleep thinking about your lips. Donghyuck took a hold of your wrist, detaching your grip from his fabric and moved it up, silently telling you to wind your arms around his neck instead. The second you did it, he melded his lips with yours in a passion that matched the blazing sun, entangling his long arms around your waist, nearly lifting you off your feet as he embraced you tighter.

You wanted to preserve this moment. Right here, kissing fervidly under the soft rain in the arms of a stranger, drowned in the feelings of excitement. Because if you were oxygen, then Donghyuck was dying to breathe.

When it ended, you wished it didn’t have to. Donghyuck’s eyes were deep and intense as they peered into yours, growing a bit half-lidded when he shifted them back to your lips. “Hey.”

You mirrored his gentle smile, forehead pressing against his. “Hi…”

“I don’t know about you,” he chuckled lowly, “but as far as first kisses go, I think that was the best first kiss in the history of mankind.”

You tried to suppress your laughter but failed instantly. “Hyuck?”

“Yeah?”

“Judging from that line, I think you need to practice harder on your art of seduction.”

“Let’s just go back to kissing for now. I like kissing.” He pulled you in again, exchanging muffled giggles between playful kisses.

And if happiness had a form, it would’ve had his smile.

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I’m someone I don’t want around?

I’m falling again. I’m falling again.

I’m falling.

It’s almost laughable that the memories that once sparked so much joy in his heart have taken a shape of javelin, striking him deep in his chest, right where he ached for you the most. It tasted like summer when he kissed you in the rain, and the pain that swells in Donghyuck’s heart whenever the memory of it suffices is harder than the storm. And now, it’s the silence of the room—the absence of your presence—that pierces his skin.

It was easy for him to fall in love with you. So easy, it frightened him at first. After his first relationship, the way his first love shed his heart to pieces, he thought he wouldn’t be able to love someone ever again. Wouldn’t have the courage to even try. But when you came into the picture, Donghyuck didn’t even have the strength to resist. You were everything he ever wanted, an epitome of the woman that graced his dreams. And he was a prisoner, trapped under your spell.

So, why does everything have to end?

Now that he’s falling without you catching him, what is he going to do?

He hates who he’s become. He loathes the fact that he can no longer easily smile like he used to. He despises how grimly he envisioned the world these days. As if you were his entire future, and now that you’re gone, his whole world collapses. Donghyuck no longer knows himself, as you were the one who defines him. The one who gave meaning to his life. The one who mended his broken heart.

What if I’m down? What if I’m out?

What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?

I’m falling again. I’m falling again.

I’m falling.

You must hate me now, Donghyuck ponders, bringing his arm over his face, nibbling at the corner of his lip. The things I said… How I let you go without even giving us a chance… I must have hurt you…

It all began that night, on the day of your twenty-sixth birthday. Two years had passed since you shared your first kiss. Little fights over your differences couldn’t be avoided, but they helped nurture the bond you had with him, making it stronger. And each forgiveness was sincere and was rich in kisses. Donghyuck always made sure of that.

As you were fond of movies, your perfect date must involve watching a movie together with him so Donghyuck, dressed unusually handsomely in a white button-up shirt and black khakis that caught you off guard, took you out to the movie theater—the place where fate once meddled in and brought you to one another.

Knowing your taste, he paid two tickets to see the latest romantic movie, two buckets of popcorn, and a coke for him but iced green tea for you, realizing full well how soda had become one of your biggest enemies ever since your diet started. He made sure that your seats were located on the corner top of the theater, private enough for him to snuggle close to you or steal kisses whenever he felt like doing. You didn’t mind because Donghyuck would only kiss you when you seemed bored, never wanting to bother you when you were too immersed in the movie. He simply kept his hand laced with yours the whole time to make up for the loss.

Complaining about the plot holes and making jokes that only you two could understand had become Donghyuck’s habit to keep you entertained during the movie and it was something you always looked forward to. But that night, he was quiet, his eyebrows creasing in irritation but because of what, you were clueless.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you exited the building, this time being the one who reached out for his hand first. Donghyuck stiffened but his shoulders soon relaxing as he intertwined your fingers together.

“I’m fine,” he assured. “Why, do I not look fine?”

You weakly smiled back, uncertain. “You just seem awfully quiet, that’s all.”

He rubbed his nape, somehow looking a bit perturbed. “I just… It made me remember something I’ve been trying my best to forget.”

“You mean the movie?”

“Yeah.” He sighed into the night, puffs of hot air erupting from his slightly chapped lips. “I don’t know about you, but I think the way the movie depicted their long-distance relationship is just bullshit.”

There was so much bitterness in his words that it nearly made you stop walking. Suddenly, there was a thick tension around you, one that made you aware that it would be wiser to drop the conversation. But curiosity was eating you from the inside. He looked so crushed, so angry, and Donghyuck was turning into a whole other person before you.

You asked him what happened.

“I don’t think I want to talk about my past relationship when I’m celebrating a special night with my girlfriend.” He forced himself to laugh about it, but it sounded hollow.

You unconsciously tightened your grip around his hand. “I just wanted to understand you better.”

“Hey.” He pulled you toward him so abruptly, you ended up falling on his chest. His smile was warmer when he looked at you. “Without even knowing my past, you already understand me better than anyone.”

You were still unsettled when Donghyuck kissed your lips to divert your attention, softly biting your lower one just to joke around to ease the tension. “Ah, I can’t wait until we’re home,” he whispered when all laughter had receded and he had his fingers tucking your loose strands behind your ear. “I want to make love to you.”

Your heart beat thunderously inside your chest. “You’re—you’re just gonna say it so blatantly like that?” He used to be so shy about it, asking you to join him in bed by pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck instead of using words.

“Just wanted you to know my plans beforehand.” He simpered. “Or do you not want to?”

Face aflame, you hurriedly took a couple of strides forward, leading the way with your hand clamping his wrist. “Where are we going?” Donghyuck frowned but followed you nonetheless. “The restaurant is right there.”

“We can have dinner after.” You threw a look over your shoulder, too nervous to smile, but hoped your words would deliver. “Aren’t we going to make love?”

His astonished look soon turned delicate. Donghyuck’s smiles were always beautiful, but the ones that were caused by you were the brightest.

As soon as the door clicked open, Donghyuck half-pushed, half-carried you inside his apartment that smelled pleasantly like him. He didn’t wait until it was properly closed before he latched his parted lips on your softer ones, fusing perfectly in the way no one ever could. A stinging pain erupted from the back of your head when Donghyuck drove you to the wall, not knowing his own strength, but when you groaned against his mouth, it was solely because you needed him as much as he needed you.

“I love you,” he breathlessly said against your neck, tearing your coat away from your body, fingers slipping underneath your dress. “I love you so much, it’s insane.”

It had been three months since you first exchanged the sacred three words, but no matter how much Donghyuck had whispered them to your ears, painted them to your skin with his lips, it still felt like the first time you heard him say the words. It wasn’t just because of how many promises he held underneath them, it was the way he said them—so sincerely, so desperately, as if you were running out of time and he needed you to hear them before you disappeared from his life.

“I—” You flinched, pulling him for another kiss again when Donghyuck hooked his fingers on the side of your lingerie, hastily pushing it down your thighs. “I love you too—Hyuck—”

The bed was not more than twenty steps away but it was long forgotten when Donghyuck, still with his teeth ghosting across your lower lip, hastily unzipped himself and pushed his jeans and boxers lower enough for your hand to find and stroke him to life. “God, baby—” he hissed when you curled your fingers around him, hot breath caressing your jawline. “I want—I need to be inside you—just—”

No one had ever wanted you the way he did. Every kiss was nearly bruising, every hug was almost suffocating, the thrill of it all was overwhelming.

It was almost a whine that escaped his lips when he vocalized your name. As soon as his desperate gasp and pleading moan reached your ears, the butterflies came alive in your stomach. Your skin tingled, even with the lightest brush of his lips. Your fingers found home in his hair when he kissed the valley between your breasts, tugging at his soft strands and earning a low grunt in response.

You gave him a sign, affirming that it was okay to continue and Donghyuck wasted no time. Pushing the fabric of your dress as much as he could until it pooled around your waist, he lifted one of your legs and wrapped it around his hips, one hand sliding down to prop up your thigh, the other one aligning his tip against your entrance.

The friction made you moan, both in pain and passion, as Donghyuck slid himself in one swift motion. The second he was sheathed deep inside, waiting for you to adjust to his size, he drew out a long sigh, eyes shut close as he relished the sensation. But when your gaze met, his half-lidded eyes were gentler than they had been the entire day. Careful fingers framed your face, his thumb rubbing comforting circles along your cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

You weakly nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Are you?”

His chuckles were light and bashful. “I’m feeling great,” he said. He moved his hips without warning, just a little, not too fast, not too deep, but the sensation was enough to make you whimper and Donghyuck swallowed every little noise you made directly with his lips.

A certain thrust made you squeeze around him and he drowned out his moan by mouthing against your shoulder, teeth prickling against the skin. “Fuck, do that again, baby, please.” And as he continued hitting the same spot, it was a given that you provided the same reaction.

Donghyuck was insanely good at making you feel good, and in return, you wanted to give him everything that he desired. “I love how you feel around me,” he confessed under his breath, as if he was talking to himself. “Perfect—you’re so perfect for me—”

Your arms were frantically clutching around his neck, trying to maintain stability when Donghyuck pushed you up the wall, now lifting both of your feet off the ground. He buried himself deeper, moved his hips faster, and kissed you with the desperation of a dying man.

You tried to hold back but you couldn’t. It was too much. His breathless moans in your ear, the frantic sway of his hips, the closeness of your bodies—everything was overwhelming and you came hard on his length, legs wrapping tightly around his waist as Donghyuck chased after your lips.

“Fuck,” he breathed heavily, his jaw hung low. The way you quivered and clenched around him sent fire through his veins. “Did you just come?” he whispered and you bit your lip in shame. The tiny laugh that broke free from his lips were both playful and filled with tenderness. “Already? That was fast.”

Flustered but not given the chance to react, you inhaled sharply when Donghyuck picked up the pace. He was almost growling when his lips grazed against the shell of your ear. “Actually, me too,” he moaned, “Is it—can I come inside?”

You nodded fervently, embracing him tighter and Donghyuck buried his head in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he came.

When he let you slide down to your feet, your knees gave out under your weight and you stumbled back to his chest. He held you close, laughing as he kissed the top of your head. “I’m sorry, come here.” Bending down slightly, Donghyuck hooked one arm under your knees and another one behind your back. He carried you in his arms, teasing, “The sex was so good, you could barely stand, huh?”

You playfully slapped his chest. “Shut up.”

But all of his mischievousness dissipated as soon as you both slipped under the duvet, his bedsheets felt silky smooth under your spine. He cleaned the stain that dripped down your thighs with a warm towel, but dipped his head down to taste you directly with his tongue the second he was finished with it. Donghyuck’s eyes never left yours, placing gentle kisses on the inner sides of your thighs and two more on your clit before he slid his tongue along your folds, slowly, as if he had the whole time in the world to please you.

He was always gentler the second time, slower with more feelings instead of sheer passion. So when he slid himself into you again, his forehead was pressed against yours, lips curving up into an innocent smile. “I never want to let you go,” he chuckled between tiny moans. “I want to stay just like this with you, forever.”

“I don’t think it’s physically possible,” you giggled, raking your nails down his spine and he arched his back in response.

“Wouldn’t it be great if we could stay connected like this all the time, though?” Donghyuck broke away, sitting on his heels as he rested one of your legs on his shoulder. His fingers were kneading the skin of your thigh, hugging your leg close to his chest as he rocked his hips slowly, savoring every moment. “I mean, ah, doesn’t this feel good?”

You nibbled at your lip, sighing. Good was an understatement but you weren’t sure you could find a term to perfectly define how amazing he felt around you. From where you laid on the bed, you could take a good look at Donghyuck’s eyes—the way they drooped slightly, clouded with both affection and infatuation every time they met yours. How the muscles in his abs were flexing with every movement. The sinful, obscene sway of his hips. The little smirk that broke on his face when you accidentally moaned his name too loud—Donghyuck was... Beautiful. Irresistible. Sexy.

“Baby?” Donghyuck called, chuckling softly as he peppered open-mouthed kisses to your ankle that made you stare in a haze. “You okay down there?”

You pursed your lips. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Yeah?” He brought your leg down so he could fall back into your arms, mouth meeting your jawline before it moved to playfully bite the tip of your nose. “Well, I’ve got something else you could also enjoy.”

You hummed, trying your best to contain your moan when he suddenly brought his fingers down to rub against your clit. “And what’s that?” Though by the way he slammed his hips harder against yours served as an obvious answer.

“Some caramel pudding,” he answered, nipping against your neck as he grinned, careful enough not to leave any marks. “They’re in the fridge. You’ll love them.”

It was hard to focus when he kept hitting the spot that made you curl your toes. “Hyuck...” You pushed a loose strand of his hair behind his ear before you caressed his cheek. “I love you.”

His movements stopped, eyes peering into yours, stunned at first, then melted into something softer than the breath of summer. “I love you too.” His lips never left yours as they spoke each loving word with more sentimentality and less urgency. “And happy birthday, baby...”

When both of you had no strength left but to cuddle in each other’s arms, you gathered the courage to ask once more. “Hyuck?”

“Hmm?”

“I still want to know, after all. About what happened to you earlier. You looked so distraught—I can’t rest before I know what upsets you.”

Donghyuck’s fingers stopped momentarily from carding through your strands but with a heavy sigh, he surrendered.

It was his first relationship with his first love, back when he was sixteen. They were together for four years but knew each other for ten. She was a close friend that grew into something more. Even loving words didn’t need to be exchanged as they could practically finish each other’s thoughts. You felt a pang of jealousy gnawing at you from the inside, at the thought of him having someone so important in his life—someone who had stayed with him longer than you’d met him—someone whose name couldn’t be spoken as it triggered too many emotions.

But for the sake of understanding him, you cast your jealousy aside, no matter how much it hurt.

Donghyuck’s voice had lost its usual cheeriness when he reminisced his past. By the time they graduated high school, she decided to continue her study in Japan. Donghyuck let her go, supporting her plans and dreams like the perfect boyfriend that he was. They were committed to each other, faithful to one another. Donghyuck never doubted her, not even once.

Until one day, during a summer break, he decided to pay her a visit. He bought airplane tickets with the money he’d saved up for months, along with a thoughtful gift for her birthday. But the second he saw her opening the door to her apartment, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

She was never alone. He was.

“Why are you here?” She asked, as if his presence was a bother. Him, the man whom she claimed she’d loved with her entire soul for the last four years. The man whom she had made love to on his bed just six months earlier. Donghyuck would never forget the look she had on her face that day.

“It’s funny how you’ve been with this person your whole life,” Donghyuck breathily said, eyes locked to the ceiling. “And you thought you knew them like the back of your hand and then one day, they betrayed you in the way you thought they were incapable of doing.”

You couldn’t find your voice, blending in with the silence of the room.

But he didn’t hate her, Donghyuck confessed. He hated himself. He hated how stupid—how innocent and gullible he was. He hated how easily he let someone else carry his heart around and let them do whatever they want with it. He knew that she wouldn’t have the power to destroy him, if he didn’t give her the chance. Maybe, if his thoughts weren’t as clouded by his feelings, he would’ve noticed the little sighs she made whenever he told her he loved her. He would’ve noticed the way she sounded much brighter when she talked about her life instead of their lives together during their late-night calls. He would’ve noticed how distant she sounded whenever she spoke his name, as if it was just another meaningless word and not the one that she used to murmur in short gasps near his ear.

And maybe if I hadn’t fallen in love...

Donghyuck fell mute for a few seconds as if he was drifted to another time and space. The hurting look on his face was so vivid that it broke you just by seeing it. Attempting to wash the pain away, you placed a hand on his cheek and Donghyuck grew rigid once before he melted into smiles, leaning into your touch.

“I had to stay for a whole week in a country I didn’t know because I couldn’t refund my ticket. All alone, since my girlfriend cheated on me and didn’t even care to apologize about it,” he murmured against your palm, still sounding bitter but with more ease. “So yeah, I probably have some trust issues now because of that.” He tried to laugh it off. “But it’s all right. I don’t care. I have you now, right?” He laid on his side, facing you with a boyish smile that made your heart race just a little bit faster. “I’m starting on a new page with you. And as long as you’re here with me, I’m the happiest man in the world.”

You reflected his smile though your heart was unsettled. “You’re lame.”

“Excuse me, I’m in love,” he corrected, pouting. But when his hand found yours, his expression grew tender again. Kissing each of your fingertips, he murmured, “We’ll always be together, right? Promise you won’t do that to me, ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He knew what loving you could cost him, but you were different. And he was different. He wouldn’t fall into the same trap. He knew how to protect himself this time. So he allowed himself to love you just as much, if not more, moving on but never forget.

Your eyes were focusing on the way he brought your index finger between his lips, the tip pressing against his hot tongue. “Yes,” you softly whispered, hooking a finger around his silver necklace, pulling him in for a kiss. “We’ll always be together.”

So when you received a job promotion a year later, you didn’t know what to say to him. It was your dream job, finally achieving that position after practically hanging on for dear life for five years working in the company. The salary exceeded your expectation, and you would be working under a senior that you admired. The company would pay for all your living expenses, give you your own flat to live with a balcony where you could see the sun rising behind the skyscrapers. It all sounded so perfect. Too perfect.

Except for the part where you had to move to another country that stood three thousand miles from where he was.

You knew you should’ve said something to Donghyuck the first time your director broke the news to you. But you couldn’t as you didn’t know how. During the three years of your relationship, both of you had avoided talking about matters that could lead to fights, only allowing yourselves to discuss trivial, daily things that would make the other pout in annoyance but not fury. The first time you noticed this happened, was when both of you became too busy dealing with your own lives. You had your job to think about, while Donghyuck had his thesis to work on and there wasn’t much time to focus on each other even when you were staying in the same room.

Donghyuck often released his stress by nuzzling his nose against your neck, pulling you into his lap, whispering, “I miss you,” and you reciprocated each time with a kiss but you both stopped before it got too much, with you patting his cheek, apologizing to him with both words and your eyes, “I’m sorry, but I have a Zoom meeting in an hour so I really need to get my presentation done.”

He just sighed, pressing a tiny kiss between your eyebrows. “Well then, I’m gonna go catch some sleep. Don’t work too hard.”

And as he walked to the bedroom, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone in his living room, you realized the distance that grew between you. He used to look back, peeking his head through the door, saying, “Would it really kill you to just join me for, like, fifteen minutes? I’ll be fast, I swear,” which you would answer with a laugh, assuming he was joking. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”

Now, he doesn’t even stop to say good night.

You knew you could fix it—he knew he could fix it too—but none of you ever said anything about it, afraid that it would trigger something bigger that neither of you wouldn’t be able to fix.

It didn’t mean that you didn’t try. Every weekend, you would commit yourself fully for him and Donghyuck would accept your unspoken apology with all his heart. You once attempted to drop some clues about your promotion during dinner when he made you your favorite dish, grinning from ear-to-ear as he waited for your reaction. Donghyuck’s Spaghetti Aglio e olio never disappointed you, but you know your words would. So when he was smiling at you, his thumb gliding along your knuckles as he took your hand in his, how could you tell him?

I just need more time to prepare myself. To find a better way to explain.

But before you could find your words, Donghyuck found your promotion letter.

“What is this?” He asked to your horror, body leaning against the doorframe, your letter in his hand.

The maroon dress you were trying to fold fell from your lap as you stood up abruptly, eyes widening in shock. “That’s—where did you get—”

“What is this?”

“It’s...” You trembled. “My promotion letter.”

“Are you planning to tell me about it?” He wasn’t shouting, didn’t even raise his voice, but to your ears, his voice was thunderous.

You fidgeted, fingers fisting the hemline of your shirt, desperate for comfort. “Of course, I—” But there were no words. Your brain was too jumbled to find a proper excuse. So when Donghyuck just lowered his gaze, eyes growing colder, and left the room, you could only call out his name.

He only stopped in his tracks when you grasped his wrist. “Did you say yes to this?” His voice was quiet, eerily so, that it sent shivers down your spine.

You nibbled at your bottom lip. “I was—”

“Yes or no?”

He only allowed you to choose, not explain. With a deep breath, you mumbled out, “Yes.”

There was a moment of silence where you could only hear your stuttered breathing but none of his. “Three months,” he murmured, voice deep and hoarse that you barely recognized it. “The letter is three months old. You had all this time to tell me.”

Panic was bubbling up your chest. “I was going to tell you but—”

The rest of your words died instantly the second Donghyuck slammed the letter on the dining table. Without another word, he stomped off to the front door, grabbing his coat.

“Wait!” You chased after his trails, knees wobbling. “Where are you—”

The door was shut close with a bang.

No matter how many times you tried to call him, he never answered. The only thing you could do was stay in his apartment and waited until he came back to his senses. Now that you were alone in the living room, you began to notice just how much of your belongings were positioned in every corner of his apartment. Your toothbrush was next to his, your clothes were hanging inside his wardrobe, your favorite books were on his shelf, and the walls were painted with more photographs of you than his own. In every picture, you could see yourself smiling in his arms, laughing at something he did or said because that was it, wasn’t it? Donghyuck was the only one who could make you smile so freely, without a care in the world.

So why are we in this position?

It was your first big fight and you had no one to blame but yourself. Hours had passed by and tears began to well from how frustrated you were with yourself, but the front door flung open before they could outline your cheeks.

“Hyuck,” you called out, heart breaking at the sound of his name. Donghyuck’s hair was ruffled by the wind, his nose and cheeks reddening from the cold night air. His hands were in his coat’s pockets, his eyes hiding behind his bangs as he kicked his shoes away. He walked past you as if you weren’t there, heading straight to the bedroom.

Judging from the scent and his droopy eyes, you knew he had been drinking. “Are you okay?”

No answer. He took his coat off, throwing it to the bed, along with his phone—which was clearly functional as always. You had expected him to dismiss your calls, but it still hurt being ignored.

Eyebrows knitting in concern, you went to the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee, hoping that a little caffeine would ease the tension as it was something you were both fond of. You stopped to catch your breath, noticing that it was one in the morning.

What should I do?

“Hyuck…” You carefully said, voice quieter than usual as you walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind you. “I’ve made you some coffee. It’ll help warm you up.”

Donghyuck was sitting at the edge of the bed, his phone in his hands, blatantly ignoring you.

“Can we…” You hesitated, fingers curling into tiny balls of fists. “Can we talk..?”

But the silence was deafening.

“Hyuck—”

“What?!” He suddenly roared, making you take a step back, flinching. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I…” You swallowed your breath. “I know you’re upset about me leaving and I’m sorry—”

“Oh, so now you want to talk about this? After I found out about your letter?” Donghyuck didn’t wait for your response. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this a secret from me! What else are you not telling me?”

Heart dropping to the stomach, you weakly replied, “Nothing, just... I was going to tell you—”

“Yeah? When, exactly?” Donghyuck stood up, throwing his phone to the bed. “When you’re about to go? When you’re about to disappear from my life just like her?”

Being put in the same position as the person who tore his heart to pieces was both sickening and infuriating. “Of course not, I won’t do that to you! I won’t leave you—”

“But that’s all that everybody fucking said!” He threw his hands in the air. “That’s what she said when—”

“Well, I’m not her!” The booming sound of your voice startled you both, but it grew weak in comparison when the eerie silence followed. “Hyuck, you can’t blame me for what she did. I’m not her. I’m not her replacement. Don’t compare me with her.”

For a moment, Donghyuck’s lips were pressed tightly until they grew white. “I never compared you with her,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not until now when you’re doing the same thing, saying the exact same thing to me.”

You cowered slightly under his gaze. The sound of the ticking clock had never felt so loud when you fought for words to say. “It’s my dream job, Hyuck. I’ve been waiting all my life to get this position.”

“Congratulations.” He scoffed, clenching his jaw. “I’m so glad you get what you wanted.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to say words you don’t mean.”

He clicked his tongue in vexation. “Yeah, well, I would’ve meant them, if you had told me about this sooner.”

“I wasn’t able to tell you because I thought you’d be upset about it—”

“Well, I suppose, postponing it until we’re counting days till your leave is going to make me feel fucking elated, isn’t that right, Sweetheart?” There had never been a day where you thought his adorable, warm laughter could turn into something so spiteful. “Let me guess. You’re leaving in like, what, a month?”

You rubbed your tears away before they fell. “Six weeks.”

“Oh, that makes everything so much better! Six weeks!” He cynically laughed, throwing his head back. “You know what? You’re right. I’m so happy. Never been this fucking happy in my whole goddamn life—”

“What do you want me to do?!” The frustration that welled inside your chest finally broke through your lips. “You want me to turn back time so I could tell you right after I heard the news three months ago?”

Donghyuck averted his gaze, his hand going to his head, pulling at his hair roots. “I just don’t understand why if this is so important to you—and if I’m so important to you—why don’t you talk this out with me? Don’t you care about what I think? About how I’d feel?”

Tears were running faster than you could wipe them off your cheeks. “I couldn’t find the right time to tell you.” You choked out. “ And you were busy working on your final thesis too, I didn’t want to bother you—”

“That’s your excuse?!” he gasped in disbelief. “I don’t fucking care about my thesis. I care about you! And you knew how I felt about this—about being in a long-distance relationship—"

“That was the reason why I was waiting for the right time until—“

“Until you can tell me that you’re leaving.” He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m tired and we’re going in circles. Why are we even discussing this when you’ve made the decision all by yourself.”

Embittered, you asked, “Do you want me to choose between you and my career?”

“No. I don’t.” He finally peered into your eyes, and you could see how there was not as much anger as sadness that emerged in his eyes. “But I’m making my own decision.” When you frowned in confusion, Donghyuck looked away, staring at the wall that was filled with memories as he spoke. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“What?” It felt like the world was swallowing you whole. “What did you say?”

Exchanging stares with you, Donghyuck appeared more weary than furious. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

“You’re drunk.” You reasoned out, both in efforts to calm him down and to wash the fear away from your chest. “You won’t be saying any of this if you were sober.”

Donghyuck’s eyes grew colder. “If that’s what makes you sleep at night, sure. Go ahead and think that way.”

Dread was coursing through your veins, making you feel terrified of what was coming. “Wait,” you almost pleaded, “We need to talk about this.”

“I think we’ve talked enough.”

“Can’t we at least try—”

“I can’t.” The confession escaped his lips, his eyes were heartbroken, as if it was you who was breaking up with him and not the other way around. “You know I can’t do this. I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. I don’t want to be that guy who constantly gets suspicious or overly protective of you because of my past. It won’t be fair to you.”

“I don’t care if you’re being unfair,” you replied shakily, “I just don’t want us to end what we have now.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice grew softer. “If we continue this, I know I’ll end up saying things I never mean to say. With three thousand miles between us, how often do you think we can see each other? With you being so busy with your new job, how often can we speak?” But the bitterness in his voice came alive when he added, “We could barely do that when we were in the same room before.”

“It’s about that..?” Realization washed over you like a wave. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Same reason as you,” he replied, “To protect our relationship. That’s what we always do, isn’t it? Pretending everything is fine when it’s not?”

“Hyuck, I’ve tried my best to spend time with you... I thought you’d understand that I have a job—”

“You’re right, but unlike you, I don’t.” Donghyuck weakly smiled. “I don’t have anything going on with my life except you. I don’t even know if I can graduate in time. But you’ve achieved so much. You’re only a few years older than me and yet you’ve already had everything figured out, and I admire you for that.” His words sounded sincere but it only tore your heart open even more. Donghyuck walked closer, his fingers pushing the bangs out of your eyes like the way he used to do but it didn’t feel the same. “You’re already perfect the way you are now. You don’t need me in your life.”

“No.” The desperation was so thick in your voice, that it made you wince but not regret. “You’re wrong, you—There’s not a day where I don’t need you, Hyuck. I want you to stay with me. Come with me. We still have time.”

You don’t mean that. Donghyuck brought his head down, unable to meet your eyes. If you did, you would’ve told me about this sooner. “And then what?” he sighed, sounding so tired. “What am I going to do if I come with you? I haven’t even finished my study, let alone having a job.”

“You can find one in—”

“In a country where I can’t even speak the language?” He bitterly smiled. “I doubt it. I’m not gonna let you pay for my needs—”

“Then, I’ll make some time for you, I promise. Better this time.” Your fingernails were sinking into your palms from how tightly you curled them. “No matter how far we are from each other, I’ll call you every day.”

“I don’t want that.” His words were laced with frustration. “I don’t want you to force yourself to do something for me. And I don’t want to spend my nights imagining whether you’re spending yours with someone else.”

“You...” You were so quiet, you wondered if he could hear you properly. “You don’t trust me?”

But Donghyuck shook his head, gaze softening. “I do. I just don’t trust myself.”

Your mind turned into a blank slate, unable to form a word. Donghyuck’s breathing tattered a little when he exhaled, walking to his wardrobe to pick out some clothes. “I’m gonna go stay at Mark’s for the weekend. Feel free to take out your stuff. Just drop the keys at the lobby when you’re finished.”

You stood still, frozen. It almost felt like a heart attack from the way your heart was hammering against your ribcages. “I don’t want to lose you, Hyuck,” you quietly professed, “I thought we could work this out...”

Donghyuck’s movements were put to a halt, just for a couple of seconds, before he continued shoving his clothes down his bag.

You stood on the side as he walked past you, his natural sandalwood scent had disappeared, buried under the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. “So, this is it…?” You fretted. “For us..?”

Donghyuck stopped walking, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “It’s better for both of us, don’t you think?”

But he didn’t wait to hear your answer.

When you dared to appear at his front door six weeks later, it was the night before your departure. He hadn’t called, hadn’t sent you a single text, as if he was a ghost, only living in your imagination. But knowing it was your last chance to see him, you decided to take the first step.

Donghyuck was wearing the same navy blue knitted sweater that he wore the first time you told him you loved him. You remembered how startled he was back then, unsure of what to say as he was afraid to love someone else after knowing how it felt to have his heart shattered to pieces. That time, he only responded with a hug and a small “Thank you.” As you laid in his arms later that night, you spent every second with your eyes closed but your thoughts awake, trying to figure out why won’t he say it back?

But when you left for work early on the next morning, one arm holding an umbrella over your head to protect you from the morning showers, Donghyuck was chasing after you in the same knitted sweater, his hair messy from sleep but soon be drenched by the rain.

“I love you too!” he shouted, breathlessly, both from running and the rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins.

You turned around, eyes wide in astonishment, though you didn’t catch his words. “What—” You were about to run so you could shelter him from the rain, but Donghyuck reached your spot faster than you could reach his. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you take an umbrella with you?” You dropped your handbag to the ground, not caring if it got wet from the rain as you focused more on the man who was shivering in front of you. You rubbed his arm up and down before cupping his face. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine. I just have something to say before you go.” He broke into a tender smile, pressing his palm against the back of your hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back last night. I was afraid. Being in love with someone means you’re giving your heart for them to hold or to crush and I didn’t want to go through that pain again but—” He stepped closer, his temple nearly touching yours as he brought his head down. “I love you. I want you to know that I love you too. I don’t want to lie to myself anymore and I don’t care what’s gonna happen in the future. I just love you, so much, that both my heart and my head feel like they’re going to burst.”

And you could only stare, dumbstruck and in awe.

“Say something, please?” He begged, cold fingers caressing your cheek. “Otherwise, I might have to crawl into a hole and die from shame.”

You chuckled lightly, overwhelmed by the sheer happiness that washed over you. “I love you too.”

He seemed so relieved, almost as much as you were, and he twisted his fingers around your strands, chasing after your lips. The kiss was sweeter than honey but knowing him, even the sweetest kiss emitted so much passion, it left you breathless.

“I’m sorry, I know you gotta go to work,” he said, slightly pushing you away before his emotions defeated him once more and he slanted his lips against yours in a more frenzied manner. “God, I know you have to go,” he whispered between needy kisses. “But just—one more—”

When he finally had the strength to break apart from you, his eyes were conflicted, his thumb caressing your cheek, and Donghyuck wetted his already glistened lip as he stared at yours. “Must you go? I want to be with you today.”

It didn’t matter that the two of you just spent the entire weekend together. No amount of time would be enough to satisfy your needs for each other’s touch. So you answered him with your lips meeting his in a frantic kiss, casting your umbrella aside and it didn’t matter that it was cold, with big droplets of rain easily drenching you from head to toe, because Donghyuck was always ready to warm you up.

“Then take me home, Lee Donghyuck.”

But you realized as he tugged you back into his arms, soft lips pressing against your temple, you were already home.

Now… That memory felt like a fantasy, one that you could only dream of having.

“I…” You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I just wanted to get the books I left on your shelf.”

He didn’t say a word, only stepping to the side to give you some space to enter. A month had passed by since he broke up with you, and his apartment still smelled delightfully like him, but instead of making you feel joy, it broke your heart even harder.

“It’s in my room,” he said, all stern with no warmth like he used to have. You nodded, making your way to his bedroom. When you closed the bedroom door behind you, hot tears were about to spill and you tried your best not to be suffocated with the memories of the nights where you used to share your feelings with him, bodies tangled underneath the sheets, lips carving marks on each other’s skins.

You couldn’t breathe.

By the time you managed to collect yourself, you came out of his room with two of your books in your hands while you left ten more on his shelf. You didn’t need any of them. It was only a poor excuse for you to see his eyes once more before you bid your final farewell.

“I made you some coffee,” he said, leaning against the coffee table. “It’s cold outside so…”

You weakly smiled. “Thank you.”

You used to spend hours chattering behind a few cups of coffee, talking about the things that mattered and things that didn’t because everything felt special when you shared them with someone you loved.

But today, every sip of your coffee sounded louder than your voice as no words were shared.

You said you care

And you missed me too

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you

“How are you?”

“I’m doing great,” he answered formally. It’s funny how he didn’t need spiteful words to hurt you. The absence of his affection in his sentences was more than enough to strangle you.

“Are you… still writing lyrics for Mark’s songs these days?”

“No. I’m busy these days.”

“Oh… With your thesis?”

“Sure.”

Donghyuck didn’t tell you the truth. Didn’t tell you how many papers had been written, scratched, discarded just so he could deal with the thoughts of you. Didn’t tell you the words he wrote about your pretty eyes, your pretty smiles, your kindness, your passion, your everything.

The reason why he let you go was because he knew, you would probably stay with him if he’d asked the question. He didn’t want you to have any regrets. Didn’t want you to choose him because you felt like you had no other way.

It felt like you betrayed him when you kept it a secret for months.

What else will you keep from me, if you can’t even tell me you’re leaving? Will you keep it a secret when you no longer love me the way you used to? Will you keep it a secret when you find someone new, someone better, someone who can stay to wipe your tears and hold you in their arms while I’m three thousand miles away from you? Will you pretend like everything is fine, when we’re straying further away from each other every day?

In Donghyuck’s mind, he thought you’d be better on your own. At such a young age, you managed to chase after your dreams while he was still unsure of what he wanted to have in the future. To him, you were always a step ahead. And tomorrow, you’d be taking your first step to another place where he wouldn’t have the strength to follow.

His thoughts about you were never-ending. And he wrote so much, poured every feeling down to papers, that now as you stood before him in person, there were no more words left to be said and he could only reply your sentences with silence.

And the coffee's out

At the Beachwood Cafe

And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” you eventually said and Donghyuck glanced at you from behind his bangs, but never stayed for a second longer.

He knew. Of course, he did. He had been counting the days, dreading every second of it. “Take care of yourself,” he responded in a way a stranger would say to another stranger at the end of their brief meeting. “Good luck with your job. I’m sure you’ll be fine, Noona.”

Noona... He didn’t even want to call you by your name or the sweet terms he’d once associated with you. You were truly strangers now.

“Thanks.” You forced yourself to smile, nails sinking into your thighs as you brought your hands to your lap. “You too. Don’t forget to take your breakfast every day. You always skip it.”

It was your job to remind him, who used to serve fried eggs and toasts on his plate and maybe Donghyuck remembered that too because he brought his head down, and simply replied with a hum.

When you took your leave, you handed him a note to your new address. “Just… Come visit whenever you’re in the country. I’d love to show you around.” It sickened you how formal you sounded, but you couldn’t say it any other way.

When Donghyuck took the note, your fingers brushed against his, it almost seemed like the time stopped, just for a little, and he wanted to pull you into his embrace, to tell you how much he’d been missing you the same way you’d been missing him. To tell you how much he wanted to be selfish, to have you choose him over everything in your life because that was how you meant to him. You were everything to him.

Just like how you are to me.

So when he dropped his hand, tucking it inside his pocket, you knew it was really over. Finally, the word goodbye took its true form.

And I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again.

655 notes · View notes

piecksz · 4 years ago

Text

forget me too. | (m)

pairing: modern punk!bakugo x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, angst, cheating, oral sex, penetrative sex, angry sex, choking, fingering, exes with benefits, mentions of breeding, hair pulling, explicit language, toxic relationship, manipulation, reader just being a lovesick puppy but wouldn’t we all be if it came to bakugo

summary: it’s been a year since you broke up with bakugo after you found him cheating on you, and you swore you’d moved on from him, but when you run into him again at a record shop, you fall back into a dangerous cycle of love and hate

words: 9,800+

a/n: so i gave in and watched downfalls high, and i’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t the best piece of media i’ve ever consumed, but mgk’s feature track with halsey kind of ate (AND IT LITERALLY INSPIRED SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS I WAS ITCHINGGG). therefore, this is said angsty idea. you can listen to the song forget me too by machine gun kelly (feat. halsey) while reading, that’s if you’re really daring. good luck lol

If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t fully understand, it was the type of girls who hated their ex-boyfriends, twirling their hair flirtatiously and giggling at all their pitiful punchlines one week, and the next, hatching bogus rumors to discourage other girls from seeking them out romantically, letting them know that their charm came at a price.

Until it was Bakugo.

You genuinely didn’t see it coming. You weren’t even able to recognize the severity of the situation until you were convulsing with the gravity of your sobs, shrieking at him in front of his apartment. Bakugo had called you earlier that evening to reschedule your previously-arranged dinner date since his friend Kirishima was in town, and he wanted to dedicate the rest of the night to catching up with his old schoolmate. You happily forfeited your own plans and instead opted to rendezvous with your boyfriend and his familiar later in the week, but as the night hauled on your favorite TV show no longer satiated your boredom.

Shuffling into the kitchen and scouring your cabinet for ingredients, you drew up the idea to bake some sweets for Bakugo and Kirishima because you figured it would be a nice surprise, however once you arrived at Bakugo’s place you deduced quickly that his friend wasn’t over. It should have been notably clear that something was unusual by the way he was hesitant to let you in.

He poked his head out from behind the privacy of his front door, definitely surprised to see you, but not in the way you had hoped.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping to the tub of sugar cookies in your hands. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me to let me know you were coming over?”

You hummed after detecting a subtle edge in his voice. “I wanted to surprise you.” You rose to your toes to look past his head. “I thought you said your friend was coming over.”

Bakugo nodded, and once he extended his hand to accept your treats you could see that his torso was bare. “Idiot had to cancel at the last minute. School shit. He said he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your grip tightened on the container.

If his friend couldn’t make it then why didn’t he let you know? The two of you still could have made it to your dinner reservations.

And in that moment, you swore your internal monologue was loud enough to hear, because you immediately received your answer when you heard a soft, feminine voice come from inside his apartment.

“Who the fuck is that?” you barked, trying to outbalance Bakugo’s weight on the door. “Bakugo you little fucking shit--let me in.” It was a moment-long game between the two of you until Bakugo gave in, accepting the reality that he’d already been caught. You stumbled into the door as it swung open, revealing his company.

She was petite with short blonde hair, wearing a panicked expression that matched Bakugo’s oversized flannel on her naked body almost impeccably. You stared at each other until you broke the tense silence with a quiet holy shit.

“Holy shit,” you repeated louder, blinking as fast as you could to hold back the salty tears that were beginning to cloud your vision. “You fucking dick!” You didn’t notice how forceful your voice had gotten until you were shouting at him, the immense pressure building in your chest making your voice crack. You hurled every vulgar name in the book at Bakugo who couldn’t even look you in the eye while you cried in front of him.

This couldn’t have been the same man you once saw your future playing out with. The hell unfolding in front of you was exactly what your friends, Momo and Ochako, had predicted once you disclosed your interest in Bakugo. They warned you that he had a record on campus, with multiple girls, and yet somehow when he wooed you with sweet words and thoughtful gifts, just like they said he would, you still thought you were different. The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t a terrible guy by any means. He was a little rough around the edges with a temper, but he was hilarious and passionate, all while being profound and smart.

In your fantasies the two of you were married, and then came babies with tufts of your tresses and the mischief of his ruby eyes. He would have been a winner, if he wasn’t so emotionally incompetent. Perhaps you were naive to assume what you and Bakugo had was love just because he said so.

Your quivering fingers worked unsteadily against the lid of the tupperware. You tossed it aside before dumping the container’s contents on the floor of his apartment and hurled the empty food saver at him.

“Come fucking on Y/N,” he said wearily. The fucking nerve he had to act tired.

“Enjoy your cookies,” you responded venomously, leaving quickly before another set of tears came surging.

The next several months were excruciating, and the pain you experienced was nothing compared to its onset. If you weren’t spending days cocooned in bed to sleep off the fatigue of your endless crying, then you were on your couch, staring unamused while Blair Waldorf waltzed across your TV screen.

At least she got her happy fucking ending. Good for her.

You couldn’t even find the energy to eat, and ice cream was not the cure-all for heartbreaks like everyone lied and said it was.

Every so often Momo and Ochako would pay you a visit. For the first few weeks they let you mourn, consoling you and cleaning up the litter of crumpled tissues around your apartment. After the first month, they suggested that maybe meeting someone new would be the best way to help you forget about your break up, but you didn’t want to meet someone new. You just wanted to know if Bakugo missed you too.

Once your grades started slipping, you used that as an excuse to turn to isolation and lose yourself in your schoolwork. The distraction left you with no leisure time to scroll through old photos of you and Bakugo in your phone, and within a couple months, you swore that you’d finally moved on from him.

But it seemed all of that was forgotten the moment you recognized his head of spiky blonde hair from the next aisle over in the record shop, and you silently cursed the universe’s cruel way of working, that all-knowing bitch.

You kept your head down, pretending to be overtly interested in the Kendrick Lamar vinyl you held in your hands, but you couldn’t stop peeking over the shelf to see if Bakugo had moved from his spot.

You could hear him shuffling, and every time you looked up, he was a step closer to the end of the aisle, meaning that your game plan was to move in the opposite direction, so you could slip past him without being detected.

You continued to move one step to the left every time Bakugo moved another step to the right, surely securing your elusive escape, but when you glanced up again, he had disappeared from your line of surveillance. Shit.

“Y/N?”

Shit!

Slowly, you pivoted in the direction of your name only to gawk, horrified, as your ex-boyfriend strolled up to you casually, like he had never ripped your heart out and trampled all over it.

Once he got closer, you realized how generous the year between your break up and now had been to him. His yellow flannel was useless tied around his waist when it should have been on his shoulders instead, covering the way his black Led Zeppelin shirt clung to the impressive build of his upper body.

“Holy fuck, it is you,” Bakugo said, incredulously. You swore he had grown taller now that he was standing in front of you because you couldn’t remember if he had always towered over you.

“Small world,” you said, distastefully.

“Not really,” Bakugo shrugged. “This is just where I come to slave away for minimum wage.”

You simply blinked at him with a placid expression, unable to decide which of your emotions was best considering the circumstances.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he chuckled. “Did you cut your hair?”

You raised an eyebrow plainly. “No.” If anything your hair had grown a few inches longer.

“Highlights?”

“No.”

“Shit seriously?” Bakugo cast his eyes downwards and then back up, sizing up your figure. “Well you look good.”

You could only offer up a dry laugh in response while shaking your head at the peculiarity of the situation.

“What is wrong with you?” you jeered.

You couldn’t believe the ease with which he approached you after not seeing you for twelve whole months, especially when six and a half of those months were spent bawling your eyes out over him and trying to repair the heart he broke carelessly.

Bakugo’s blithe expression withered. The look left behind was one of bashful remorse, as if he was embarrassed by the person he was a year ago.

You weren’t even sure if he had really changed since you’d gone out of your way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about him after you claimed to have gotten over him. The real reason was that you felt you couldn’t trust yourself. You feared that if you came across anything having to do with him, you’d descend into another self-destructive, heartache-driven spiral.

“I tried calling to apologize, but you blocked my number. And then blocked me on everything else,” Bakugo explained.

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I never saw you around campus, and when I showed up to your apartment you weren’t home. I felt like horse shit, seriously, but after a while I just gave up, I guess.”

You pursed your lips together at the mention of his attempts to remedy your breakup, specifically because this whole time you could have sworn he didn’t care to fix things with you.

Bakugo leaned in, and you surprised yourself by making no effort to create more distance between the both of you.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, for once without the gruffness of his usual tone.

If he made the effort to apologize even after a year, that must have meant that he still had some feelings left over for you, right? Did that mean he still loved you? The suspicion made your heart squeeze with expectation.

“Are you sorry that you hurt me, or are you sorry that you got caught?” You questioned.

“Both,” Bakugo snickered tactlessly.

You swore you could have punched his lights out then and there, but he must have noticed the way you tensed up because he looped his arm around you, pulling you in until you nestled into his larger frame.

“I fucking missed you, dumbass.”

Your stomach dropped at the very mention of the words you were longing to hear after your split, and you knew that you weren’t over him. Not even close. Even when you had caught another girl with her hands on him.

Your first mistake was unblocking Bakugo’s number that night, and your second was sending him a text. You stood in the bathroom, dumbfounded by your own actions while you clutched your phone nervously. Thank god he didn’t have his read receipts on. The last thing you needed to know was if he decided to leave you on read after you had just stroked his monumental ego.

You sat your phone aside and proceeded brushing your teeth until you were interrupted by a shrill ding from beside you. You grabbed your phone much too quickly and slid the screen up to be met with a reply from Bakugo.

9:32 PM

bakugo: so i’m still in your phone huh?

9:32 PM:

bakugo: lmao

9:33 PM:

bakugo: thinking about me even after bitching about how much you hate me?

9:34 PM:

bakugo: especially at night that’s hot

You scowled at the messages before putting your phone back down. Using the time it took you to finish brushing your teeth and washing your face, you recited your responses over and over again because as much as you wanted to, you knew it wouldn’t be smart to jump back into your relationship that fast. You still held negative sentiments about what he had done to you, but the pleasure of having him back was slowly beginning to outweigh your earlier feelings.

While shuffling into your bedroom, you kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, typing, deleting, and retyping messages, worried that they would sound too needy.

9:50 PM:

you: so i see you still have a head so big that it could block out the sun

9:53 PM:

bakugo: fuck off you little shit

9:53 PM:

bakugo: no classes tmrw and i’m off work at 12

9:54 PM:

you: ok? do i look like your fucking secretary?

10:00 PM:

bakugo: no im just letting you know in case you’re planning on stalking me again :^(

10:01 PM

bakugo: obviously i wanna see you tomorrow dipshit

Warmth spread across your cheeks until it deepened into a dangerous heat, and the happy memories of you and Bakugo a year ago resurfaced as deja vu. Everything was scarily reminiscent of the way he asked you out the first time, back when your opinions about him were much more straightforward.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed and squealed, flustered by how to-the-point he was about his desire to reconcile things with you.

“Get it together, honestly,” you reprimanded yourself, jabbing a finger against your temple in an effort to drill the mantra into your head.

You responded back to accept Bakugo’s invitation, being mindful not to sound too excited, but you couldn’t deny that you slept better than usual that night.

The next day when you met up with Bakugo after his shift at the record shop ended, the two of you settled on getting coffee from one of the restaurants on campus. Well, you got a coffee, but Bakugo went for an iced tea instead because he insisted that coffee tasted like “dog shit”.

Regardless of your staggering difference of opinion in beverages, you guys hit it off again, laughing and joking around like there had never been a rift between you two in the first place. You were taken aback by how comfortable you still felt around him and how much he still seemed to adore you.

Two weeks after your reunion, you and Bakugo were already falling back into the routine of going on dates like you’d done before, snickering in the back of crowded movie theaters and demolishing each other in multiple rounds of mini golf. You even kept the photo booth picture that was printed for you at the aquarium in your wallet, just so you could peek at it every now and then.

Three weeks after your reunion, you concluded that you were pretty much together. Bakugo had never made it official, and neither had you, but you trusted the way you felt, and it seemed clear that he felt the same way.

Your friends however, weren’t as happy to hear the news of you and Bakugo seeing each other again.

Momo’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table and thrusted her mechanical pencil in your direction.

“Y/N, please tell me you’re joking.” She turned to Ochako who looked at you with a troubled expression. “Uraraka, please tell me she’s joking.”

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head in utter disbelief. She said nothing. Rather she looked to you for an answer, wanting you to explain the situation before she scolded you for being so forgiving toward someone who didn’t deserve it.

“He apologized okay? And it really seemed like he meant it, I’m not just saying that. You guys know I can’t hold grudges. I’m soft.”

Momo huffed.

“We started talking, and he told me that he tried to apologize but he never got the chance.”

Your friends were still quiet, waiting for the punchline, but once they realized that there was no hidden gag to the story, they leaned back in exhaustion, disappointed that you’d gotten yourself into another wearisome situation because of your thoughtlessness.

“And he said he missed me. After an entire year, he still misses me.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had found you someone else, you know. Someone nice. Better than Bakugo, so you don’t feel like you have to settle,” Momo countered.

“I didn’t need to date someone else,” you chided her. “I’m not one of those people that need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled, plus I’ve been swamped with assignments.” You knew you were just trying to save face. You knew the real reason why you turned down all your prospective blind dates, and your friends knew it too. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone other than Bakugo, and you meant it when you said you didn’t need love to feel like you had purpose, but when it came to the blonde, it appeared that none of those principles applied.

“You’re lying,” Ochako sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before clicking her pen and returning to her research paper.

“I’m not settling!” you declared, earning a few scattered glances from the other students in the library. You smiled at them ruefully, mouthing an apology, and ducked your head back into your college textbook.

You decided to drop the conversation, concluding that your friends just wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know your relationship with Bakugo like you did so how could they have understood?

Later that night however, you couldn’t help but chew over your friends’ reactions. There was clearly a reason why they felt the way they did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see their concern. You didn’t need to be chastised every time you did something they didn’t agree with, because you reminded yourself you were a grown ass woman. You treasured Momo and Ochako, but you were absolutely capable of looking out of yourself.

“Why do girls watch this shit?” Bakugo muttered from beside you, uninterested in the movie playing on the Macbook propped up in your lap. “It’s just dresses and sideburns, where the fuck are the fist fights?”

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, stupid. Not Deadpool,” you retorted, giggling slightly once Bakugo decided the skin of your neck was more interesting than Kiera Knightley. He released a throaty chuckle while attaching his lips to the base of your jaw and continued kissing until he stopped where your neck met your shoulders.

“Stop, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you complained tenderly with absolutely no intent to make Bakugo stop.

Bakugo sat up, grabbing your laptop off the sheets and closing it briskly. “Fuck the movie, I have a better idea,” he suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as he tossed the device onto the chair beside your closet.

“Hey, what are you doing, you dick?” you protested.

Within seconds Bakugo was on top of you with arms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in beneath him.

“Yeah?” he whispered provocatively, like he was making sure he had your permission first. He spoke under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t know what sensation you registered first: the warmth now spreading quickly across your cheeks, down to your chest, or the pronounced throbbing between your thighs.

You nodded, softly responding with a “yeah” in return, and Bakugo didn’t waste a second before pressing his mouth to yours enthusiastically. You were surprised how quickly you re-familiarized yourself with the curve of his lips and the way they moved steadily against yours. Acting with fervor, he used his hand to grip your chin, forcing your mouth to open wider so he could slip his tongue past your teeth.

Bakugo used his free hand to grab your breast under your sweatshirt, and you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your skin while he ran his fingertips against the silky fabric of your lace bra.

“Lace? You dirty bitch,” he teased, breaking contact. “There’s no way you could have known we were gonna fuck.”

You laughed, appreciating how seductive Bakugo looked. His sandy hair was tousled from your impatient hands in his locks, skin feverishly tinged with a dusty pink hue, and lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

“I didn’t know, but I was hoping we would,” you answered honestly. “I guess I got lucky.”

Bakugo snickered, clearly pleased with the response he received. His scarlet eyes flickered lustfully, and he hastily returned to working on your body. He pulled your sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over his shoulder before working swiftly against the clasp of your bra, which he skillfully managed to break with just one hand.

Must have had a lot of practice with that.

But your cynical thoughts were soon forgotten the moment Bakugo’s tongue curled around your nipple, enjoying the way his saliva made your skin glisten under the dim lamp light. He hummed loudly every time you jolted and whimpered, your back arching in tandem. He closed his lips around the delicate nub, sucking harshly while making no attempts to hide his sly smile. He was enjoying himself far too much.

He made sure he put his other hand to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, pinching roughly while tugging on it absentmindedly. Once he grew bored of your innocent mewls, he thirsted for something filthier.

Bakugo tantalizingly slid his hand down your stomach until his fingers curled around the waistband of your volleyball shorts. He stretched the Spandex material until when he released it, it snapped painfully against your skin, his cock throbbing at the exposure of your earthy groan.

He slipped off your shorts, and the sight before him was enough to elicit a long, drawn-out “Jesus fucking Christ”.

You didn’t realize you were so aroused that your underwear was soaking wet, your pussy now visible through the thin sheer fabric. Bakugo swallowed hard, palming himself to relieve some of the unbearable pressure he was feeling. He could feel his cock straining against his underwear, and he wanted to stick his dick inside you and fuck you until your eyes rolled back into your head, but the only thing he wanted more than that was to taste you.

“These are mine,” Bakugo insisted. He pulled your panties off, chuckling dryly at the wet stain on the fabric before tucking them into his pocket.

You tilted your head at him.

“What? I’m keeping them as a souvenir,” he replied.

But that’s not what you were concerned with. You were more humiliated than anything that this was your first time having sex with him in a year, and you’d been horny for him since you opened the door. You might as well have just written Bakugo’s Whore on your head in thick permanent marker, but you kept your suggestion to yourself knowing that Bakugo would have liked the idea way too much.

Bakugo reached down to pull his shirt over his head and threw it aside, unveiling his impressive physique. After you guys had broken up, he began finding himself in the gym more frequently, placating his regret and anger through physical exertion, and although he used weightlifting to cope, it left him with an incredible build.

Sweet lord, you thought, please fucking break me.

Bakugo wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you forcibly toward him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look as his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn’t see much past his hair, but you felt a long wet lick up your folds, and your arms immediately gave out, causing you to fall back onto the bed while your hips bucked upward.

You let out an obscene cry, but that only encouraged Bakugo more. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking another stripe up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth, all while peering up at you to see the way you writhed under his touch. You gripped the sheets, and your breathing grew increasingly labored as Bakugo swirled the tip of his tongue against the tender bud, slowly in one direction, and then the opposite. You continued to grind yourself against his mouth while your desire became insatiable. You felt like your hunger was completely justified, because you hadn’t been spoiled in a long fucking time.

You completely unraveled once you glanced down just in time to see Bakugo spit on your parted folds before using his fingers to coat your pussy in his saliva. His slick fingers rubbed your clit, taunting you for just a while longer, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. He started with two fingers, slipping them in and out with ease until his spit mixed with your arousal created a vile lubricant.

With the way Bakugo’s lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were knitted in the center, you could tell he was concentrating dangerously, observing how desperately you swallowed his fingers every time he pushed them in.

Your vision erupted into white heat when he bent down to take your clit back into his mouth while pumping in and out of you with an added finger. The symphony that filled the space of your room was absolutely foul. Your intense cries bounced off the walls, while Bakugo panted heavily at the messy sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. And neither of you cared if your neighbors could hear.

“Bakugo--,” you started, but your broken plea wasn’t nearly enough to get his attention.

“Bakugo,” you cried louder, your body beginning to shake with the onset of your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, his voice slightly higher than you were used to, almost like he was whining.

You could only give a weak nod in response.

“Be a good little bitch and cum for me,” Bakugo coaxed, as you yielded to the intensity of your orgasm. He quickened his pace just to see you convulse as you reached your high, but then slowed down until he was ready to pull his fingers out of you.

The sight was enough to make Bakugo cum untouched. You were finger-fucked out, eyes shut as your chest heaved up and down while you tried to catch your breath. Your arousal was smeared on the inside of your thighs and your bedsheet was damp where you released.

Bakugo wanted to ask you if you were alright, but the aching pain in his pants took priority. He reached into his underwear, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood as he pumped himself gingerly, hissing at the feeling. His tip was raw and flushed, leaking precum in shameless amounts.

He hoisted your legs on either shoulder and positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you for confirmation, and you nodded feebly. He sunk his entire length into you, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a shrill scream. Your walls were already sore, and the sting of Bakugo’s large cock inside of you was a painful bliss. Tears came quickly, and they rolled down your cheeks while Bakugo rocked his hips into you slowly. He was waiting for his aching to subside before speeding up his rhythm, and once it did he was taken over by an unappeasable greed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, thrusting himself in and out of you. “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum inside you and get you fucking pregnant.” Bakugo had one hand on your headboard, his grip so firm that his knuckles had turned white.

You sobbed underneath him, withstanding your own pain until it subdued into pleasure. You shifted your legs until they wrapped around Bakugo’s strong torso, unable to get enough of him.

Bakugo rammed into you, and your headboard hitting your wall furiously set the tempo until he fell into a staggered cadence.

“I’m gonna cum,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--.” Your name was the last thing Bakugo could get out before he broke free of your hold, pulling himself out of you so he could release. He cummed on your stomach, generously shooting out hot spurts of white until he was soft and you were covered in his seed.

Bakugo leaned over and collapsed beside you, short of breath. He was drenched in sweat and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He chuckled after a few silent minutes.

“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to get me to nut in you?” Bakugo asked, turning to face you.

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you remembered the way you wrapped him up in your legs while he was inside you.

You snorted, erupting into a fit of sheepish laughter. “Yeah.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “Crazy bitch.”

He pulled his sweatpants up and rolled out of your bed. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he voiced, before shuffling lazily out of the room to find something he could clean you up with and smoke a cigarette on the fire escape.

The next morning you found yourself alone, Bakugo nowhere to be found despite you falling asleep with his arms around your waist. You raised a sleepy eyebrow at the empty space next to you that was still sunken from his weight. Okay good, so you didn’t hallucinate last night. You figured Bakugo had early duties to attend to, so you simply grumbled before turning over to get more sleep.

Following that day, every time Bakugo came over to your place, or you found yourself at his, the routine was simple: have breathtaking sex and then pass out.

You grew used to expecting it from him whenever the two of you spent any time alone, and the night before always consumed your thoughts the morning after. You’d squeeze your thighs together during your lecture hall while your professor yammered on about early psychology. The memory of Bakugo’s hand around your throat as he fucked you from behind prompted a surge of heat to your core.

Even when the two of you couldn’t see each other because neither of your schedules coincided, you found a way to make things work, whether it was over the phone, through text, or over Facetime.

Occasionally, you’d ring up Bakugo while he was closing up the shop to taunt him, touching yourself on the other line while he’d grow painfully hard and couldn’t relieve himself until he got home.

“You little fucking shit.” You loved the way his low growls sounded over the phone. “Let’s see how bold you are when I come over and turn your thighs into earmuffs.”

And occasionally, he’d send you videos of himself in bed while you were at the library late cramming for your exams the next morning, touching his cock with haste before cumming on his hands as he groaned your name loudly.

Not an ounce of passion was lost between you two, and if anything you’d only grown closer together from the time spent apart. You had your love back, and everything in your life was ideal.

Of course, that was all before the party.

The party at Sero’s house that you’d caught wind of once you joined Momo, Ochako, and your other friend Mina for lunch.

“You know I don’t like going to parties thrown by frats,” Ochako muttered, ripping off small bites of her chicken wrap.

“Why not? There’ll be plenty of guys there for you to talk to, your phone has been a little dry lately,” Mina responded, laughing silently.

Ochako squinted at her jest before playfully rolling her eyes herself. “That’s exactly why. You know what happened last time I went to a frat party. The hangover isn’t worth it.”

Mina exhaled heavily and turned to you with a hopeful look.

“Y/N, you’ll go with us right? Me and Momo?”

You squeezed your water bottle wearily. “I don’t know. I’m not a fan of frat parties either.” You didn’t know what answer to give her, she looked extremely optimistic, and you hated to rain on Mina’s Friday night plans, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening crammed in a frat house with a crowd of strangers.

Mina stuck out her bottom lip and reached to grab your hand from across the table. “Please? Please? There’s no guarantee Momo won’t ditch me at the party for Todoroki.”

Momo murmured inaudibly beside her.

You sighed, however you relented, giving into the arrangements Mina had made for you, but you regretted your decision far too late.

You showed up to the gathering with Mina and Momo dressed modestly. Unlike your friends and many of the other girls there, you already had someone that you were seeing, and you wanted to look as reserved as you could so there was no confusion around whether or not you were off the market.

Bakugo was possessive, and he preferred to keep his possessions close. There was no telling what he would do or how he’d react if he learned of another man trying to make a move on you.

You took small sips out of your cup while you followed quietly behind Momo and Mina as they moved from person to person, greeting friends you were unfamiliar with. You feigned a cheery smile when you were introduced to them, but overall you were bored with the party scene. You weren’t really a frat party girl.

You yelled over to Momo that you needed another drink and shook your head when she asked you if you needed her to come with you. She looked far too engrossed in her conversation with Todoroki, and you didn’t want to just whisk her away while they were talking. In fact, you were the chairman of the Anti-Cockblock Committee.

You sauntered into the kitchen, sliding in next to the counter once the guests who were there first left. You started grabbing bottles to inspect the labels because to be honest, you weren’t sure what half of these brands were. As a broke college student, you bought your own drinks, which were mainly $20 cases of hard lemonade and cheap raspberry Smirnoff vodka from the liquor store. Clearly Sero had selective taste in high quality shit.

You poured yourself a small sip of Patron, tasting the clear liquid, and tried not to gag at the oaky taste as it burned your throat going down.

You felt someone ease in beside you. “Hey, bartender.”

You glanced at the guest next to you, their familiar visage coming into view. You recognized his distinctive green head of hair and innocent freckles peppered across his cheeks, it was the same face you saw every day in your sociology class.

What was his name? Ku--something. Zu…?

You remembered your professor referred to him by his nickname, Deku, and once you said his name as convincingly as you could, you gathered by his boyish grin that you were right.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he laughed, and adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses while his emerald eyes swelled into crescents.

“I didn’t really take you for a partier,” you observed. Deku was incredibly smart from what you’d seen in class. He knew the answers before your professor could even finish their questions, and when you’d ask him if he could repeat what the teacher said for your notes, he explained the material even better than the person who was an expert in the subject for a living.

“I’m not,” he replied. “But you know, the college experience and all that.”

You scoffed and nodded, knowingly. “Melt your brain studying for 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, and then get shitfaced whenever you can. Yeah, that’s definitely the college experience,” you joked, pouring yourself a couple shots of vodka and mixed it with orange soda.

“I was meaning to ask you,” Deku started. “I mean--Yeah--I was meaning to ask you for your number in class earlier this week.”

You stirred your drink with a finger before stealing a taste. “Of course,” you agreed happily.

Deku’s face deepened into a rosy bloom once he took out his phone, typing in your contact while you recited the numbers.

“I’m not asking for a weird reason or anything like that. Just so we can help each other out with homework and stuff.”

You nodded, already acknowledging that Deku was a sweet kid, at least as far as you knew. You didn’t expect him to have any promiscuous intentions.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be as much help to you as you’ll be to me,” you teased, and Deku chuckled nervously still trying to shake the blush off his cheeks. “I’m free on Monday, I can meet up with you after class if you want.”

Deku buried his face into his cup, his shallow breathing causing his glasses to fog up. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Text me the deets,” you grinned, before wandering off back to your friends.

On the way back to the stairwell where Momo and Mina were still standing, your attention was drawn by a large crowd around the living room that erupted into jovial squeals and cheers every few seconds. You gravitated toward the mass of guests, standing on your toes to get a better look, but when that didn’t work you gently made your way through the throng of people, issuing soft “sorry, excuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the people that didn’t mind letting you slip past them.

You had no knowledge that he was going to be here. He never told you what his plans for the night were, but this was the last place you were expecting Bakugo to be.

Here.

Playing a game of “Kiss and Blow” on a crowded couch with someone who wasn’t you. When it reached his turn, you could see his shallow inhale and how he put in no effort to keep the card against his mouth. It fell between the cushions, and the crowd erupted into another rally.

Bakugo grinned artfully and hooked his arm around the eager brunette before smothering her giggles with a deep tongue-filled kiss.

At first, the cogs in your brain couldn’t turn fast enough to register what was happening, and your thought process stuttered for a moment while your eyes took in more than you expected. Your body remained immobile, giving your thoughts a few seconds to catch up. Maybe for those few seconds, your anguish was suspended, and your shock was simply a cushion until you fell apart.

You couldn’t make your way out of the party fast enough, and you didn’t even think to let Momo and Mina know that you were leaving. Everything around you sounded warbled, like you were underwater, as your leaden legs carried you out, past the front lawn, and across the street until you were far away that you could no longer hear the music of the party. It was then that you pulled out your phone to text Mina claiming that you didn’t feel well and called an Uber to take you home.

The following morning you ignored all of Bakugo’s texts. He sent one at 10 AM, asking you if you were down to get breakfast, and then another at noon suggesting lunch since you didn’t respond to his text about breakfast. He texted you again, and again, and again, and you continued to disregard him.

You didn’t cry this time around. No. You were filled with a foreign anger. It was strange and new, and it burned nothing like the rage you’d felt in all your years of living. You didn’t know whether you were angry at him for putting you through this again or if you were angry at yourself for really believing that he’d changed. You really wanted to confront Bakugo in person, but you were afraid of your unpredictability. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him--roundhouse kick him in the throat most likely.

Bakugo’s relentless attempts to get in contact with you didn’t let up, even late into the night. He sent another text threatening to show up at your apartment if you didn’t answer him, and then he called yet again.

Angrily, you reached out to answer your phone, but once you held it to your ear all the fury you’d been bearing throughout the day emerged.

“Can you fuck off?” You hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bakugo responded, taken off guard by your greeting. “What the fuck?”

“If you were so hellbent on seeing me today, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a hypocritical little bastard! Again!” You shook with anger, unable to effectively piece together all the profane names you wanted to call him.

Bakugo was still while you put him on blast.

“Do you not have anything to say to me, you fuckwit?”

“No, because I don’t even know why you’re going full bitch right now!” Bakugo defended himself. You sat back at his reply, confused at why he was guarded. You knew that when Bakugo was aware he was in the wrong he always remained quiet and pensive.

“Last night?” you clarified. “Does last night not ring a bell to you?”

He let out a small grunt of recollection. “I was at a party last night, what are you talking about?”

“No shit, Bakugo! I saw you swallowing another girl whole!”

The other line erupted into laughter, and a large knot settled in your throat.

“Am I not allowed to kiss other girls now?” he asked.

Had he been hit by a semi-truck? Did he need a swift lobotomy?

“Why would you kiss another girl if you have a girlfriend?”

Bakugo muttered a quiet “what”, and then the lightbulb clicked.

“Holy shit, Y/N, did you think we were back together?”

Huh?

“When did we ever say that we were together?” he questioned lightly, finding your misunderstanding comical.

But--

“I thought we were just fucking around, you know? I never mentioned getting back together, and you didn’t either, so I just assumed we were just fucking.”

You didn’t say a word. As angry as you wanted to be and as angry as you already were, he was right. You had only assumed that you two were back together, but neither of you agreed on it explicitly.

“Our dates...” you countered listlessly.

“Two people hanging out together isn’t always a date.” Bakugo shifted on the other end and then grunted again to occupy the tense silence. “Shitting me, I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking.”

Realization of how foolish you made yourself look set in, and you hoped the awkwardness that hung in the air was fleeting. You swallow heavily, unable to digest defeat.

“Okay,” you murmured, before hanging up and flinging your phone aside.

You and Bakugo didn’t speak for the rest of the night into next morning, and by midday Monday when your study session with Deku rolled around, you were more than reluctant to go. You knew the frustration of someone cancelling last minute, but you were unsure whether you could bring a positive spirit to your meetup, and the last thing you wanted to do was put kind-hearted Deku through your bad mood.

As the time drew closer, you were considering texting him to rain check, letting him know you were feeling under the weather, when he sent you a picture at the coffee shop. Deku had ordered you lunch, mentioning that you must’ve been hungry after classes all day. He explained that he didn’t know what you liked so he just bought for you what he usually got for himself.

After that, you couldn’t have possibly turned him down, so you showed up anyway. Before you knew it, the clock already approached 9 PM, and the coffee shop was about to close for the night. Time had flown by while you were getting lost in upbeat conversation with Deku, and the two of you laughed and joked around more than you’d done your assignment, but you didn’t mind since it gave you another excuse to meet up with him. You didn’t expect him to be as naturally humorous as he was, nor did you guess you’d have as much in common with him as you did, but you’d forgotten about your own heartache during the time you spent in his company. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, but that was just an additional plus.

However, when you finally returned home to your empty apartment that night, all your feelings came flooding back.

“Right,” you muttered to yourself, setting your backpack down by the door, and throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter. “Back to square one.”

Normally, you’d invite Bakugo over, but you had no desire to be anywhere within a three mile radius of him at the moment, so you quickly got ready for bed, figuring that the more time you spent asleep meant less time that you’d have to dwell over the all-too-familiar pain in your chest.

You continued to spend more and more time with Deku even though most of your plans were organized around schoolwork, even if it was studying for a test or just practicing terminology flashcards. Eventually, you’d gotten close enough that you didn’t mind inviting him over since your apartment was much quieter than the dorm he shared with his roommate, Kaminari.

You were both sat on your couch, and you took turns quizzing each other on general knowledge sociology questions. You flipped through the flashcards, Deku answering every question with impressive ease, until you had grown tired.

“Deku, this isn’t fun. You know every term,” you sighed, shuffling through the stack.

“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, that’s why it’s called studying and not having fun,” he joked lamely, extending his hands to take his flashcards back.

You giggled silently at his flat humor and leaned back against the armrest to put your knees up. “Okay, well what do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

Deku slipped his flashcards into the pocket of his backpack. “Between classes, studying, and wrestling, I don’t really have much time for anything else.”

You gaped. “You wrestle? No fucking way.”

Deku raised an eyebrow at you, amused and unsure of the reason for your stupefaction. “Why do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you explained. “I just wouldn’t have guessed.” You took note of his lean stature. He did look like he worked out, but you never considered his pastime was something as brutish as wrestling. You figured his interests would explain the scars that decorated both of his hands.

“Okay then,” you began, hopping up and throwing the blanket you were wrapped in on the couch. “Teach me something.”

Deku stared at you, uncertain whether you were serious. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, timidly.

“Oh man up, you baby,” you joked while wrapping your hands around his wrists, urging him to stand up. “Who’s to say I won’t hurt you?”

Deku chuckled nervously before following you over to the open space between your living room and kitchen. He stood for a second, thinking of the easiest moves to show you, and then he nodded, like he had fully decided.

“Okay, come here.”

You did as you were told, letting Deku guide you into the correct position. You cleared your throat, unnerved by the way his chest pressed up against your back, and his strong hands looped around your arms to lock them behind your head.

“This is a full nelson,” he instructed. “It’s a submission hold. It’s not allowed in our matches, but feel free to use it if you ever find some creep following you home.” You could feel his chest rumble with laughter between your shoulder blades.

You nodded, feeling flustered. “Mhm.”

The next demonstration had the two of you on the floor with your arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle while Deku’s arm was situated over your rib cage. You could feel his staggered breathing across the shell of your ear, and you looked over your shoulder expectantly, waiting for him to explain the move.

Deku must have realized how close your faces were to each other because he absolutely lost his cool. He began stammering, unable to get his words out. “And this one is called the--um...sorry it’s called the--,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just wanna kiss you so bad right now.” His body tensed with his confession, but you were the one who made the first move.

Once Deku’s hold loosened, you leaned into him, allowing your lips to collide with his. Your mouths moved against each other fervently, and the two of you rolled over until you were on top of him with your legs on either side of his waist. Ever since a few nights before you’d blown up on Bakugo, you hadn’t been touched. Not even by yourself. You tried, but your fingers came nothing close to competing with his. You were so incredibly needy that you had to forcefully stop yourself from gyrating your hips on Deku’s crotch. He was already red in the face, and you were afraid he might collapse if you worked your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You broke your kiss to take Deku’s hands, and you rested them on your chest. With Bakugo, he would have immediately taken control, driving you into ecstasy, but with Deku it was different. It was as if he had never touched a pair of breasts before. His breathing grew even more shallow as his body became rigid.

You tilted your head, slightly irritated from the lack of action, but you were more concerned about Deku’s wellbeing.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tongue in cheek.

Deku nodded anxiously. “Yup, yup, yup, I’m great. I’m good.”

But something was off, and you knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like you typically would even with days of pent up libido. You closed your eyes tiredly and released an exasperated sigh, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now--we shouldn’t--.”

Deku opened his mouth to contest, but you cut him off.

“It’s getting late, you should go. I’ll see you around.” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed at your desperation. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized again.

Deku adjusted his glasses and murmured a small “It’s fine, Y/N.” He helped you up after he pulled himself off of the floor and gathered his belongings before heading out quickly, eager to flee the tension.

Fuck, you thought. How did things get so complicated? Deku was a sweet kid, genuinely pure at heart, and you knew he wanted you from the way his emerald eyes were glued to your frame, even while you were fully-clothed. Yet he wasn’t Bakugo. He didn’t know how to work you like Bakugo did, and you felt shamefaced for thinking about your ex-boyfriend again. You mulled it over and began to question why you were stopping yourself from having your cake and eating it too.

Bakugo didn’t intend on getting back together with you, but he enjoyed the phenomenal sex, and so did you. You held so much contempt for him now, but there was no reason why you couldn’t just agree to the terms of his compact.

Exes with benefits, only now with a few additions of your own.

No dates, no flirty chatter outside of your arrangements, nothing that could potentially steer you the wrong way towards forgiving him yet again, because like you told your friends: you were a pushover, and Bakugo was a sweet talker. That was a combination destined for hell.

Your revelation was exactly how you ended up sleeping with Bakugo again. Your sex life was practically a Dr. Seuss book. The two of you would have sex in his car, in the bathroom at a bar, and you’d have sex here, there, and pretty much anywhere.

When you first called him up, he answered almost immediately, somewhat excited to see your contact after going without speaking to each other for nearly a week. After you acceded, he snorted, wondering if you were conspiring.

“Are you fucking scheming something? Cooking up some devious shit to get me alone so you can kill me? Suffocate me while I’m sleeping? You’re goddamn insane.”

You rolled your eyes aggravated. “No. Are you down, or do you wanna pussy out now?”

Bakugo agreed, and both of you managed to keep things fairly cordial. Well, as cordial as they could possibly be, given your shared history. You couldn’t care less about the differences and arguments you had when you guys were in bed. If anything, you preferred it when Bakugo was angry at you, pissed at something you had said or just releasing pent up stress that built up over the week. That only made the sex filthier.

Although Bakugo wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some affection for you, and perhaps still even vice versa. He was possessive over you regardless, even if it meant coming dangerously close to breaching the contract. Especially when he caught you one night with Deku at an on-campus movie screening in the park.

After the fiasco at your apartment with you and Deku, you apologized sincerely to him a couple of days later in class. Deku took no hard feelings to your blunder, and he nodded at the mild rejection when you clarified that things would be best if the two of you stayed friends. He reassured you that he was fine, and he was far too occupied for a relationship of any sort anyway.

But Bakugo wasn’t aware that you two had already tested the waters and decided it was sink rather than swim.

When he spotted you alone sitting on a blanket, he strolled over, wearing a sardonic grin. He struck up a superficial conversation that quickly dissipated once Deku returned with the snacks you two planned on sharing.

Your grin when Deku arrived didn’t compare to the indifferent smile you gave Bakugo when he approached you, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed at your green-haired friend as burning rage coursed through his veins.

“Deku, this is Bakugo,” you said, uninterested in Bakugo’s presence while you took the bag of sour candy Deku offered to you.

Deku smiled at Bakugo, extending his hand to exchange a handshake, but Bakugo simply slapped his hand away dismissively.

“Whatever,” Bakugo jeered, his jaw rooted, before he diverted his attention back to you. “See you later, dumbass.”

He left without a fight, but you knew he wouldn’t put the memory past him, and the following night, all of Bakugo’s anger came bubbling out. The way his brain operated was fascinating, especially since he knew that you two had no romantic commitments to each other, that’s what you agreed on, but finally seeing you over him with someone who he assumed was your new interest turned him crazed.

Bakugo held a painful fistful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress while he wrecked you. He forced himself into you from behind, muffling your screams with the pillow while he rammed into you relentlessly. Every thrust was vicious, exhibiting the full height of his temper.

“You’re mine, do you understand that? You’re mine to touch, mine to ruin. If anyone else puts their hands on you, I swear I’ll beat them within an inch of their life.”

Bakugo hated to admit it, especially since he knew admitting it turned him into the hypocritical dick of the year, but he enjoyed having you chase after him like a lovelorn puppy. You clung to his side, and you were there at his beck and call. He’d always hated being emotionally tied down, hence his apprehension toward serious relationships, but the way you took advantage of the freedom to see other men made him livid.

“Maybe if I really did put a baby in you other people wouldn’t be such a fucking pain. What do you think?”

Bakugo’s pace didn’t let up as his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you upright until your head rested back on his shoulder.

“Answer me,” he demanded, dangerously.

All you could muster were broken sobs. You had never seen Bakugo like this, and you were willing to avow that after discounting your fear and pain, it was hot, and you were slightly intrigued.

Bakugo secured his hand around your neck, allowing his fingers to dig into the side of your throat, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you which let you know he was close, but he wasn’t making any efforts to slow down any time soon.

“The thought of you with him makes me want to fucking vomit. You know he’ll never be able to make you feel like I do,” he snarled against your ear. “No one will.”

You choked out a meager “I know” while your vision grew blurrier from the lack of oxygen to your head.

You came first and then Bakugo came shortly after, claiming you by pumping you full with his hot seed until you collapsed on the bed from overexhaustion.

You realized then, through the cloudiness of your thoughts came a single conviction: that your relationship with Bakugo was an endless cycle. You’d taken every romantic risk for Bakugo while he risked nothing. That’s how you remained foolish for so long, so naive. You refused to learn over and over again, and you sacrificed yourself in the process.

Once Bakugo threw you modest praise and disappeared into the bathroom, you gave way to the enormity of your despair. Your tears were silent and persistent until your breathing turned ragged while humiliation and resentment burned just beneath your skin.

You were smitten with someone who was bad at romance. Your love was a fairytale, but not everyone believed in fairytales, meaning that was both the birth and death of your chronicle. Fairytales were only real if you believed they were.

Bakugo continued to give you reasons to leave and seek out the love you deserved, but you took momentary bliss as your excuse for staying, like a lovesick fool or like an addict dying from overdose. You wish he would at least give you something to hold onto, like false hope or a pretty lie, but you knew that’s all you’d ever be able to do: wish that things were different so you two could have grown into something beautiful.

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aggravatetheaxe · 4 years ago

Text

BO SINCLAIR X TRANS MAN / MAN ALIGNED READER COMING OUT - Pt. 2 - Over the Moon

This title is NSFW. Pt. 1, Under Your Skin, is Safe For Work. If you're a minor, please read that one instead! This one has s*x in it!

It's been a year since you came out to Bo, and while there have been ups and downs and a lot of new things to get used to, you've both done your best to keep the relationship going. But has he learned how to treat you like a man?

CW: NSFW, descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of deadnaming/misgendering, mentions of murder and mortal peril, words that could be considered slurs and/or fetishizing/objectifying (I mean, come on, it's Bo. We're talking extremely raunchy BUT GENDER AFFIRMING sex.)

Soundtrack: x

Words: 3,431

Part One

Masterlist

***

The sun was just setting over Ambrose by the time Lester's truck pulled up to the washed-out road. With a smile, you shifted the big paper bag in your arms and slid out of the passenger side, calling, "Thanks, Les!" over your shoulder.

"You take care now!" he said back, patting Jonesy's behind as she jumped out after you. "Tell those good fer nothin' brothers of mine 'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner."

You nodded, filling your lungs with fresh air. You loved the hell out of Lester, but you still weren't used to the smell of his truck. "I'll tell them. Drive safe. Thanks again."

Lester waved as he backed out, then pulled a sharp turn to head down the dirt road again, truck clattering the whole way.

You looked down at Jonesy, who had paused to pee in a nearby bush. "You ready, Jonesy?" When she looked up at you, panting, you said, "I know, it's hot. Come on, let's head home. Go home, Jonesy."

She knew the way, taking point and leading you across the small creek, around the bend and into Ambrose.

Your heart soared the moment you stepped into town. You could see pretty much the whole thing from where you stood: the church, the gas station, the house of wax ... and of course the Sinclair house.

You were eager to go find Bo, but you followed Jonesy to the house of wax first, opening one of the front doors to let her in. She'd find her way down to Vincent, and he'd know to come up to the house for dinner in about an hour—unless he didn't show up at all, which wasn't out of the ordinary.

Jonesy pranced into the dusty darkness of the museum, and you watched her retreating form for a few moments, zoning out.

It had been a year since you'd come out to Bo, Vincent, and Lester. A year now that you'd been living as your true self. It felt like much longer than that, and yet, when you thought about it, it somehow felt like only yesterday that you'd told your favorite mechanic.

After stewing over it and your talks, he'd come to terms with your new lifestyle ... gradually. Grudgingly, at times. But he was trying, and that meant something. These days, he only had to correct himself occasionally.

And that was the thing about Bo. He may be ignorant, and he might not get it, but once he had come to terms with something ... once he had decided that something was acceptable ... he was protective as hell. It might take some work, and he might still tease you about it, but if anyone else said something? God help them.

"Boo!"

You jumped, nearly dropping your paper bag as strong hands squeezed your waist. You turned quickly and were met with Bo's grinning face. "You douchebag!"

He snickered. "Scared you, darlin'?" He leaned to look into your bag. "Get anything good?"

"Get your nose out of there." With a grin of your own, you pushed him gently away by the chest. "It's a surprise."

"You know I hate surprises." Nonetheless, Bo relented, straightening and adjusting the brim of his hat. "I'll lock up the shop, meet you up at the house in ten?"

"Sounds good." You craned your neck to kiss his stubbly, sweaty cheek, then passed him. As you did, he smacked your ass. "Ugh! Come on, dude."

"You know ya like it, dude."

You could still hear him snickering to himself like an idiot as you parted ways, starting up the hill to the house while he returned to the garage. The door was unlocked as usual. You stopped in the kitchen to shove the groceries in the fridge before starting upstairs. It was hot as hell today, and you were in desperate need of a shower, slicked with more sweat than you cared to think about.

Once in the bedroom, you kicked your shoes under the end of the bed, then stripped off your shirt. You'd been wearing your binder for a few hours now, so you peeled it off, relishing the feeling of air hitting your hot skin. As you chucked the binder to the floor, you glanced into the full-length mirror near the dresser.

Your hormone therapy was going well. You were hairier, your face was slightly different, your fat had redistributed and made you squarer in a way that made you downright giddy. Your chest wasn't flat, but more and more every day, you found you didn't care—even enjoyed the look of it. Wearing a binder in public saved you from being misgendered, but around Ambrose, you didn't wear it all that much.

You ghosted your fingers over the hair on your arms and hands, thinking back. The road to the place you were at had been rocky, to say the least. For you and for Bo. When the HRT had started taking effect especially, he'd gotten weird and silent all over again, like it was finally really setting in for him. But he'd rarely voiced any criticisms aloud besides some offhanded asinine comments, so you'd just let him deal with whatever internal struggle he was dealing with.

Those days had been a struggle for you, too. But by now, he'd gotten over himself. He even dutifully helped with your shots, administering them like they were the most serious shit in the world.

It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, how far he had come. How far you'd both come. For a few long minutes, you were lost in your scrutiny, fingering stretch marks and admiring your hands.

You were so deep in thought that when the bedroom door creaked open, you jumped, instinctively covering your chest before you realized who it was. "You scared me."

"That's twice today." Bo smirked as he hung his hat on one of the bedposts. "You sure are jumpy."

"You're almost as quiet as Vincent when you wanna be." You bit your lip and glanced back at the mirror.

In the reflection, you noticed Bo looking you up and down slowly. After a beat, he approached from behind, wrapping his arms around your middle and meeting your gaze. As he did, he raised his hands to your chest, strong fingers rubbing your breast tissue in deep circles. Ever since you'd complained about how tender you got after being compressed for hours, he'd done this. You were pretty sure it was just an excuse to touch your boobs, but it felt nice at least.

You relaxed back into him with a sigh, letting him support you a bit. "How was your day?"

"A lot better now that you're home, handsome." He craned his head to kiss your neck and stayed like that, mouth buried in the crook. "Fuck, you smell good," he mumbled into your skin, fingers never stilling.

You couldn't help but squirm a little under his praise. You smelled like sweat, and worse, man sweat, but Bo always seemed fascinated with it, more than content to snuggle up to you and take your changing body in.

"I smell like a highschool gym locker," you mumbled, though you couldn't hide your goofy smile in the mirror.

He raised his eyes and brows to meet your gaze in the reflection again. "You sure? I used ta play football ... don't remember the other guys smellin' this hot."

You squeezed one of the arms around your waist, trying to ignore the heat of your face. The sight of him rubbing your breasts and the feeling of his rough fingers against your sensitive skin was already crazy-making enough. "I bet you found it a little hot."

A year ago, you wouldn't have dared make a joke like that. You didn't even wanna think about how offended he would've gotten. Now, though, his only reaction was a smile that crinkled his eyes and a little sparkle in his pupils.

"All those sweaty, strong guys bumping up against each other in steamy close quarters." Your smile turned into a grin. "Bet it kinda turned you on."

Bo snorted. "Wouldn't really know. I usually changed in the janitor's closet." A bit of vulnerability flashed in his eyes, but he quickly recovered by focusing the attention back on you. "Anyway, none a' them were like you. Where you goin', lookin' like that?"

As he spoke, his hands slid down your front, hugging your hips so your ass was pressed tight against him. You shivered hard. "Looking like what? This is just my body."

He grunted, and you watched in fascination as his gaze ate you up. He rubbed your flanks with his thumbs. "You're a real pretty boy, you know that? Not like other guys at all..."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you suppressed the urge to hide your face in your hands. Still, you averted your eyes from the mirror, too shy to look at yourself any longer. "I dunno about that, but thanks."

Bo shifted. He huffed in your ear, and you lifted your head enough to see him frowning down at you. After a few moments, his expression changed to something slightly more neutral, eyes alight. "Don't make me hafta teach you a lesson, sweetheart. I might enjoy it too much."

Those words sent a thrill up your spine, flipping your stomach. He looked like a predator about to strike its prey, and god, it took everything you had not to give in right away. You raised your chin in a challenge. "What lesson is that, hm?"

Bo's expression shifted again. He grinned, bottom lip caught between his teeth. One hand left your hip, wrapping around your throat just under your chin.

Then, he pivoted, and with one good yank, threw you onto the bed.

You loosed a soft breath as you bounced on the mattress, looking up at him. Defiance fluttered its wings in your chest. "Well? You never answered my question."

"Shh." His hand returned, this time over your mouth. "None a' that now. I'm not in the mood for dolin' out punishment. You just sit there nice 'n' lemme show you what ya do to me, understand?"

Even if you could say something with his hand over your mouth, all you wanted to do was stare at him—at those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.

"Tch." His crooked grin made a brief appearance, though it was more of a snarl, showing off his gums. "What a good li'l soldier."

With that, Bo moved in on you, kissing you hard. Teeth and noses clashed painfully before he drew you closer and deeper, his tongue exploring you like he could drink you in. You returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, grunting into his mouth, then giving a groan when you felt his large hand cup you between the legs.

A sharp inhale, and he pulled back slightly. His lips moved against yours as he whispered, "Whose is that? Who does this pussy belong to, dickbait?"

Your breath hitched. "You."

"Me. That's right." He squeezed and rubbed through your jeans. You could already feel how wet you were, folds sliding together. A second later, he'd undone your button and zipper and slipped his hand into your underwear. "Fuck, that's nice." His lips still brushed against yours, breath hot on your face and in your mouth. "Love that boy cunt. You're just as wet, aintcha?"

As he stroked you, his thumb found your swollen clit. You gasped when he put pressure on it.

"So wet for your man."

You shuddered and dared to quip back, "And it looks like you're pretty hard for yours."

Finally, he pulled back to meet your eyes, lust warring with challenge. He stared for a few moments before saying, his voice nearly a growl, "I'mmuna make you come, pussyboy. Yeah. Squirt all up my stomach 'n' chest ... we'll see if you still gimme an attitude once you're screamin' and shakin' under me."

You had no smart comeback for that. You simply melted onto his hand, grinding against him as he slid two fingers inside your hot, needy pussy. The feeling of him curling his fingers and stroking you deep already had you biting back incoherent dirty talk, every nerve electric.

"Pretty young buck like you, walkin' around lookin' like that ... you're just askin' for dick." He licked his lips and used his other hand to help you shimmy out of your jeans. Soon, you were bare, gushing all over his fingers as he loomed over you. "Am I right?"

"Y-Yeah," you pushed out, leaning back on your palms so he could get a better angle. "Fuck, Bo—"

"Y/N," he mumbled back, free hand gripping the back of your head. "Y/N."

You heard him say your name all the time, but the way he said it now, the way he was staring into your eyes ... you knew this meant something more. He wasn't just fucking you, he was fucking you. He was seeing you.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your head was spinning with every circle his thumb made around your clit, but you needed more. With a strangled gasp, you gripped his biceps. "Bo, baby, inside—fuck, please, I need you."

He smirked above you. "Not until you admit you're the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose."

You groaned. "Come on!"

"Sorry, gorgeous, those're the rules. C'mon, lemme hear you say it."

Your cheeks burned, but he wouldn't stop playing with your pussy, and you didn't want to come without his cock inside you. "I-I can't," you muttered, only half joking. "What about you, big cat?"

"Besides me." He thrust his fingers in particularly firmly, drawing a shout from you. "Say, 'I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose.' I wanna see you say it while you're ridin' my hand, and you better convince me."

You panted for a few more moments before finally giving in, sputtering, "I'm the ... handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose," followed immediately by a groan, your eyes rolling back in your head.

"I'm not buyin' it."

"I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose!" He certainly made you feel like it.

"Good boy." After one last jerk, Bo drew his fingers from you, going to work his belt off. His cock sprung from his Dickies, already red and glistening with precum. He caught your calves in iron grips as he lined himself up with your hole. "I c'n smell you. Slut. So fuckin' messy for me."

As he slid in, your head lolled back. You dropped to your elbows, then gave up completely and laid flat, unable to hold yourself up for shaking.

Bo almost cooed, throbbing gently inside you. "Lookit my beautiful boyfriend ... already half way ta heaven. Haven't even started poundin' that sloppy boy pussy yet. Ya can't lose it on me already, ace."

Even the stupid nicknames got you hot somehow. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, panting. When he began to thrust, you yowled like a hurt animal, the drag of his dick sending flames spitting through your limbs.

His grip tightened as he rolled his hips into you, in and out, in and out, picking up pace. "You like that, loverboy? Shit, sure looks like ya do." He lifted his chin. "Stick your tongue out."

Obediently, you parted your lips with your tongue, trying not to drool too much.

Bo couldn't hide the way his eyes sparkled as he watched your mouth, or the way his dick swelled in you. His hips moved faster, your slickness enough for him to glide. It felt so nice, but that alone wouldn't make you come, and he knew that—he was savoring this.

Eventually, his shirt found its way to the floor, followed by his pants and boxer-briefs. The sight of him bare with you, glistening in the hot afternoon, made it hard to breathe.

With one of his hands, he propped your leg up so it was resting against his chest and slightly over his shoulder; with the other, he explored your torso, dragging his calloused hands up your hip, across your stomach, to your breasts. He still played with them often, sucking and squeezing, and you found you didn't mind. The way it made you feel and the way he was looking at you, how could you ever hate it? Plus, you weren't sure he'd take no for an answer regardless.

A growl ripped from your chest as he bent to suck one of your nipples, latching on for a few moments before flicking his tongue, then running it flat in circles. He whispered heatedly, lips brushing against you, accent slurring, "I love your tits ... you know I love ya tits, righ'? Fuck, ya so hot..."

You knew he'd miss them if you decided to get rid of them. Honestly, that was half the reason you were reconsidering that idea. You never wanted to forget the way he worshiped them: licking, sucking, slapping, squeezing his dick between them...

"Come on, romeo," Bo panted, his mouth still against your chest as he plowed into you. Wet clapping filled the room as his balls met your ass, again and again, almost unbearably warm. "Come on, fuck ya'self off tha'."

He loosened his grip on you, giving you more freedom to move. Now he was fucking firmer, his angle more deliberate, the hot head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. You loosed another yowl and bucked your hips to meet his.

"Bo," you groaned. "Bo, Bo..."

"Tha's my man." He was losing control of himself, his voice choked and desperate. "Tha's my man. Tha's my fuckin' man."

"Yeah—! You— you like fucking other guys, angel? Huh?"

Bo exhaled harshly, twitching inside you. "Like makin' 'em scream, too. 'Specially this one. My— handsome li'l— pussyboy—"

You could feel the muscles of his sweat-slicked thighs and abs flexing as he tried to hold himself back, trying to keep himself from finishing. You knew one comment from you would push him over the edge ... so you waited until you were at your edge, too, to choke out: "Fill that slutty boy pussy up, cher. Show me who's the big man around here, who gets to come wherever he wants. Show me who's boss— fuck—!"

Bo lurched, sinking his teeth in the crook of your neck. Every inch of him tensed, cock jumping, and you saw white as your entire core became molten between your orgasm and his.

When you were next aware of your surroundings, he had collapsed into you, slumped a bit awkwardly over the edge of the bed. He was breathing hard, his hair damp with sweat. It dripped down his spine, too, and down the back of your thighs. You gripped him tightly, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and the two of you stayed like that for a minute or so.

Eventually, he pulled away, rolling onto his back beside you. One of his strong, square hands still gripped your wrist, though, thumb brushing the back of your hand lightly. He opened his pretty blue eyes, all long lashes as he blinked away the haze of his climax.

Then he looked over at you—and, of course, found you already staring at him. His lips quirked up in a smirk. "Angel?"

You could feel yourself flush. "Romeo?"

The smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and he propped himself up on one elbow, stealing a kiss. "You're cute," he declared after a moment, like he was giving his official opinion on the subject.

"You're one to talk. Can we at least agree that I'm the second handsomest man in Ambrose?"

Bo heaved a sigh. "A'right, a'right, fine. Guess numero uno is my cross ta bear."

"Always."

With a laugh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for a kiss. It started heated and rough, but as the seconds passed, it became more tender. He slipped a hand into your hair and held you in the kiss for an extended period before pulling away, an intense gaze searching your face.

"I love you," he breathed. "Ya know that, right?"

It wasn't often he said it unprompted; usually when he told you he loved you, it was because you'd said it first. At once, tears sprung to your eyes, and you leaned in for another quick kiss.

You did know—you did. And more importantly, he knew. He knew everything and he still said those three little words. He saw you and this and he still wanted all of it.

And fuck, you wanted it, too.

***

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butwhatifidothis · 4 years ago

Text

Tumblr is starting to VERY MUCH dislike how long the other reblog chain is getting, so this will be Reblog Chain 2 of my jotting down notes of this fic. Here is the first reblog chain for Chapters 1-20

But it appears as though I was correct in sleeping off Chapter 20, because Chapter 21 is. Hm. bad. Very. Not good.

Chapter 21:

Transcript under the cut:

Chapter 21: It's Called Scars so it Gonna Be Ass

- To be blunt, the constant need to reaffirm that yes, Edelgard went through terrible experimentation and that yes, they were very horrific, is tiring. This is chapter 21. The experiments occurred in chapter 2. Every single chapter between now and then have, at some point, mentioned that INDEED, Edelgard DID in fact go through horrific trauma. It is tiring to the reader to constantly have to reread the same thing - we know it happened. We know it was terrible. There's no need to constantly say so; we already understand as readers.

- "Every time the spark of life broke through Byleth’s blank face, it brought a flickering hope to the Flame Emperor’s heart." ->

- Firstly: Awkward use of the Flame Emperor epithet (its usage is on and off with how appropriate its been - this is off).

- Secondly: Once again, Byleth's face was rarely if ever blank. She was never the Ashen Demon, as even the last chapter showcased. The author is mistaking reservation with emotionlessness, which is simply wrong

- "There had been so many empty days and nights, without friendship, love or joy. With nothing to hope for, except someday, the peace of the grave." -> Suicidal tendencies: another trait that Edelgard doesn't have... (strikes against canon: 89)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 12

- "Dimitri, too, was troubled by the thought, grasping the side of his head and frowning. As the spasm passed, he turned to Edelgard and smiled warmly." -> It seems a little callous to so casually toss Dimitri's symptoms into his interactions with others when such things simply don't occur in the canon interactions. It's not impossible, or strictly against canon, but it does not feel natural; it's more as though the author is shining bright neon signs that say DIMITRI HAS MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES than a genuine attempt at writing Dimitri's mental health issues. This is not the first time this sort of seemingly thoughtless showcasing of symptoms has happened (Noted separately: Dimitri having drastic mood swings)

- "No, this world must be ruled by humans…not cruel gods who ignored the prayers of little girls." -> This statement follows Edelgard internally chastising the actions of not gods, but the Children of the Goddess. This is a weaselly attempt at dodging Edelgard's racist beliefs that Nabateans should not be allowed positions of power by shifting the belief to apply to miscellaneous gods instead. While not inaccurate per se - she does also canonically believe that gods should have no power in human affairs - it is not honest

- "Byleth nodded with childlike simplicity. “We should all try to get along.”" -> Again describing Byleth as childlike and/or innocent. Counter: 3

- For those curious: yes, the rat scene is implemented, yes it is sloppy, yes it is out of character for Claude - so much so that it is being noted separately - and yes it is forced to all hell

- What will be noted here, however, is that this is yet another instance of a man being demeaned/humiliated for the honor of a woman. See quote: "Byleth was on him in an instant, a tempest forming in the sea of her blue eyes. “That isn’t funny.” She crossed her arms sternly. “Jokes are about bringing people together...about making them smile. Right now, the only person laughing is you.”" with Claude reacting awkwardly. Once again, Man Bad Woman Good

- In a showcasing of a complete lack of self-awareness within the fic: "“Maybe if you’d have taught the Deer instead…but since you seem to have no ambitions outside of cleaning up Edelgard’s messes…”" -> This is Claude being portrayed as the bad guy, not the one being completely and utterly right

- " She slapped Edelgard on the back, and smiled heartily. “I agree, Dimitri!” Edelgard grimaced, trying to hide the fact her teacher had just struck the wound she had received during the mock battle." -> As well as where undoubtedly countless scars would be, yes? Scars that still cause Edelgard pain? In fact, Edelgard has been slapped on the back by Byleth and Jeralt numerous times before, and yet expresses no pain or discomfort.

- Another thing, that I had not noted though ought to have: Edelgard, a victim of sexual assault (in this fic), rarely seems to mind people touching her. She gets a little surprised if someone tries to get her attention with touch, yes, but Byleth's constant unprompted and random touching of Edelgard is never said to do anything but bring warmth and joy and comfort to Edelgard. It seems as though Edelgard suffering through sexual assault is just another source of trauma for the author to dump onto her for nothing more than pity points

- This is incredibly harsh to say, yes, and I would usually refrain from attributing such harshness onto a piece of text, but remember that Edelgard's scars only cause her pain when it's convenient, that she only experiences headaches when it's convenient, that she experiences PTSD episodes (when Claude mentions the rat) when it's convenient (note that in this fic he does it outside of battle, where her getting triggered wouldn't compromise her chances at victory). Edelgard not being touch averse and being a victim of sexual assault are not inherently something bad - survivors react to trauma differently, after all - but it is another in a steadily longer line of instances where Edelgard is simply given trauma for the sake of making her pitiable to the reader and the love interest, not something that Edelgard genuinely has to struggle with.

- "As Claude and Dimitri looked at their classmate expectantly, Edelgard was wracked with another bout of guilt. Deep in her soul, the princess knew these peaceful days would end soon. When that happened, no feast or vows of friendship could make up for the chaos and horror she would unleash. It would be better to pull away, close off her heart, rather than fuel the flames of her inevitable betrayal." -> Aka, "Feel bad for me, I feel guilty for planning to cause the death and ruination of countless innocents' lives all because I convinced myself that my way is the only way to get things done my way without ever actually trying to see if more peaceful ways could have worked. I'm going to orphan children, force families to fight each other, have the land be rampaged by banditry, and overall bring chaos onto these days that I ADMIT ARE PEACEFUL all because I feel that my way would be better. Wah wah pity me but I don't wanna be pitied I promise wah wah."

- "Byleth shrugged with a characteristic blend of innocence and spirit. “I guess I just like winning.” She began to blush and grabbed Edelgard’s hand. "It's so exciting! I’ve never had anyone other than Papa to celebrate with before!”" -> Byleth = innocent/childlike. Counter: 4

- The fic likes to reaffirm again and again that Byleth is "now" only acting like this due to Edelgard's presence in her life. Note also these statements written previously: "Every day, [Edelgard] was watching the person she loved grow and change. Become who she always was supposed to be." This, perhaps unintentionally, again enforces the "Lesbian Love is Pure and Innocent" trope; these wlw are only allowed to be their good girl, innocent selves - who they were always supposed to be - due to the pure lesbian love they have found with one another

- Count Bergliez didn't know of the experiments initially, but he eventually found out and did nothing to stop them, fleeing from a young and tortured El who was pleading for him to save her - Unnecessarily painting Count Bergliez as a spineless coward too afraid of Duke Aegir to save a child in pain

- Once again, a man fails to save a woman and further traumatizes her

- It should be noted that Bergliez is fearful not for his own life, but for that of his children, who were the ones Duke Aegir threatened. He, very similar to Ionius, cannot save Edelgard, except Bergliez (unlike Ionius) has a tangible, physical, explainable reason as to why he couldn't, and yet it is him who is painted as the bad guy, not Ionius. He is worthy of Edelgard's scorn and hatred, but Ionius only receives a begrudging feeling of betrayal from Edelgard that she feels guilty for harboring, even though he failed her far more than Bergliez failed her.

- "Daughters must always be loyal to their fathers" trope

- "No decent person thought the things Edelgard did. Just as her body had been twisted and shattered by the experiments, her mind bore terrible scars. Scars that the monster kept hidden, so she could walk in the world of men." -> Dehumanizing oneself as a monster as well as having violent thoughts (that specifically stem from trauma) one feels guilty for harboring are not traits Edelgard shows in canon... (strikes against canon, 90, 91)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 13, 14

- "world of men?" Did the author perhaps mean "world of man," as in mankind? Keep note of

- The reason as to why Bergliez is said to have witnessed young El's tortured state and did nothing to help her is revealed: in canon, he dislikes her. It is blatantly and objectively said that he and Edelgard share a mutual displeasure in the other's company. What this fic had him do will be used as an excuse as to why he doesn't hate her, since no one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Edelgard, upon being asked if revenge is the reason she is doing what she's doing (reuniting Fodlan): "“No.” Edelgard put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. “I think for a long time, it was…but after a while, I realized that revenge wouldn’t satisfy me.” She looked at the blue sky above. “After you go through that much suffering…when you beg for help, day after day, and no one cares...you realize that nothing will ever truly make you feel safe again. The only thing I want is for this madness to end.”" -> This is internally inconsistent. See chapter 15 note: ""You know why they created me in the first place.�� / “To reunite Fódlan,” spat Hubert. “It was all my father talked about.” / “And I will give it to them. "" This directly connects Edelgard's want to reunite Fodlan to the wants of her tormenters (as this states she is doing it out of spite). Note how Hubert spits at the idea of reuniting Fodlan, and how it was all his father - portrayed as a villain - talked about. This is not what this Edelgard wants, at least not of her own independent want. Earlier in this very chapter, Edelgard internally states a want to hurt Bergliez for leaving her behind. To say that she now no longer thinks vengeance would satisfy her, or that none of the reason that she is doing everything she does is out of a want for revenge, is ridiculous

- Edelgard to Bergliez, upon being asked what will happen to him and his family should Edelgard rise to power: "“All those who distinguish themselves will be rewarded. Given your history, I have little doubt you will be among them.” She nervously played with her white gloves. “All I ask is that when I seize back control of the throne, I can count on the military’s support.”" -> Yes, all who distinguish themselves to Edelgard, for Edelgard's cause, that Edelgard can see and/or know of. How likely is it that a poor farmer who is exceptional at fighting will actually be noticed by Edelgard and be given the credit he deserves, when others who may not be as meritable but do have some merit have the connections to show themselves directly in front of Edelgard? What means will Edelgard give the poor soldiers (that she or Byleth aren't already friends with, notably Dorothea and Leonie) that will allow them to be able to be seen by her and have their merits recognized? Edelgard is the one who says who gains power after all, so it is her they must prove themselves to, but how can they realistically do that?

- What about professions that are not immediately beneficial to Edelgard's cause, such as the arts? How will they fare in Edelgard's society, when their works and talents yield no tangible, objective results (such as, say, farming)?

- Something the fic will address?

- Edelgard does not nervously do anything in front of those she is trying to negotiate with in canon, not even Thales. Strikes against canon: 92

- "[Bergliez] could only laugh in response. “I think we’re going to get along rather well, my lady…and the other?”" -> Except Bergliez and Edelgard don't get along well, ever. Pre ts they are stated to dislike each other, which continues even onto post ts with Bergliez being the only noble Edelgard couldn't bring to heel. Strikes against canon: 93

- As predicted: No one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Literally forgot Hubert was with Edelgard and Bergliez lmao

- Ionius tried to consolidate power to be rid of the consort system due to his unending love for Anselma -> A ridiculous idea, plain and simple. Ionius was Emperor. If he wished to be rid of the consort system there was no need for him to try and take away all power from the other Imperial houses.

- If Ionius truly loved Anselma, why did he allow her to be exiled from the Empire? Why didn't he step in and use his influence as Emperor to help her?

- Edelgard, when she is Emperor - passed down a supposedly empty crown, at that - showcases the all-encompassing power the title of Emperor truly holds to one willing to use that power. That Ionius supposedly wanted to do all of these reforms and yet nothing at all was done, ever (save for ruining Houses Hrym and Ordelia, something even this fic has as canon), if Ionius did want to make these reforms, means that he was too spineless and cowardly to truly go through with trying to pass them. This again unintentionally showcases how awful a ruler and weak-willed a person Ionius was when he had power when trying to paint him in this righteous light.

- Lambert was stated to be trying to pass reforms before he died in canon, not Ionius. From parents to the children, the author is attributing traits from Lambert onto Ionius just as he (author's confirmed gender is male) attributes traits from Dimitri onto Edelgard

- " Her father and mother…she had thought their romance a fairy tale-a story from her father to make a motherless child feel valued. But…they truly had loved each other." -> Edelgard does believe Ionius when he told her of the story of when he and Anselma (supposedly) met each other. There is nothing to indicate that Edelgard thought it to be a lie: in fact, in canon: "But I choose to believe there was genuine love between them." Strikes against canon: 94

- It seems as though finally, after around 18 chapters, Edelgard's scars will finally cause her genuine inconvenience due to her complex about them as well as her trust issues. She has a gash on her back from the Battle of Eagle and Lion, but will not have it treated if Manuela isn't the healer, and yet the woman is occupied dealing with the rest of the students who were injured. How will this fic deal with this?

- Ingrid, referring to her and Sylvain: ""We just switched from Felix lecturing us all day to listening to Edelgard moralizing, didn’t we?"" -> The author is trying to compare a childhood friend whose friends have had years to get used to their barbed tongue to a stranger that directly insults the dreams of one of them. Something which Ingrid canonically hates having be done to her, even from Felix, a childhood friend. Once again, Ingrid being so casual about Edelgard being so disrespectful of her dreams is out of character. Strikes against canon: 95

- "Sylvain shook his head knowingly, ignoring Felix’s truly alarming scowl. “You should have seen his face, Edelgard. Dimitri would go on and on about this girl he met when he was a kid…and Felix would complain about her for hours!” He looked at Felix and smiled. “For all his whining about the “Boar,” nobody loves Dimitri more than him.”" -> Oh? A romantic gay male relationship presenting itself within the fic?

- Another vision of SS experienced by Edelgard. Word from a nameless guard: "The woman, Byleth, leading their forces... She’s not human! She killed half my battalion with one swing of that sword of hers. She didn’t speak, she didn’t shout, she didn’t even change her expression!” The panicked man was teetering on the edge of hysteria. “All those people rallying around her, and it’s like she doesn’t care at all. Like she's a walking corpse!"" -> Obviously saying that Byleth becomes the Ashen Demon if not allowed to be with Edelgard.

- Unintentional statement: Byleth can't be the pure innocent (lesbian) woman without Edelgard's (lesbian) love granting her purity, reverting her to a monstrous, corrupt demon incapable of humanity

- See chapter 20 note: "Implying that choosing SS - aka, choosing the Nabateans - makes Byleth less human. Intentional?" Confirmed to be intentional. Also false: in canon, even when accounting for CF's lesser chapter count, Byleth emotes far more on SS than on CF, which matches with CF having Edelgard call Byleth detached in their A support. Strikes against canon: 96

- The same nameless soldier, same context: "And those Faerghus kids…” / Edelgard leaned forward in her chair. “Ingrid…Sylvain…what of them?” / “They…they were animals. Screaming and ranting about revenge for the King.” -> Is the author really demonizing Sylvain and Ingrid for (potentially!) being mad at Edelgard for murdering one of their childhood friends? Is that really the depths the Edelgard worship will sink to, that friends becoming enraged at a friend's unjust murder from a warlord is being portrayed as something sad for the warlord? Just what else should Edelgard be pitied for?

- "The scared girl desperately tried to drown out the thoughts that reverberated incessantly. / They’re going to despise us…it’s destiny. And how could they not? If we were truly good, the Goddess would have saved us…protected us. But She didn’t. The Goddess took Mother. She took our family. And soon, She’ll take everything else we love. She hates us. / It’s what we deserve." - Now confirmed that Edelgard hears multiple voices in her head tormenting her. That trait that, once again, Edelgard does not have... (Strikes against canon: 97)

- ...but Dimitri does. This is the third time this chapter that this has happened, and far from the only chapter to display such baffling characterization of Edelgard via Dimitri's traits. It is nonsensical.

- " Why had [Edelgard] even been born at all? Nonexistence would have been preferable to watching every faint dream be dashed, to suffering alone over and over. She was just…so tired of being alive." -> Once. Again. Suicidal tendencies/thoughts is not a trait Edelgard shows in canon... (Strikes against canon: 98)

- ...but Dimitri does. The fourth! The fourth time in one chapter the author desperately wanted to just write Dimitri!

- If the fic wanted to take Edelgard in a different direction than canon does and has her display some of these traits, it would be more passable, but this fic is under the delusion that it is in any way following canon closely, especially in regards to Edelgard, and so this can only be seen as a desperate attempt from the author to have Edelgard be sympathetic by donning the skin of an actually sympathetic character such as Dimitri

- "Edelgard looked at herself in the mirror. The back of her academy uniform was stained red, the rhythmic, soft dripping of blood assaulting the princess’ ears." -> And no one commented on this? No one was worried? Not Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix, who were sitting right by her? Not Lysithea, who saw her take the blow to her back and never get it healed? Not Dimitri, who delivered the blow? It just so happened that literally no one at all noticed this?

- Byleth literally slapped Edelgard on the back earlier? Wouldn't her hand come back red with blood if it were seeping through the uniform?

** The scene that follows the previous note is too long to quote, despite how truly terrible it is. Long quotes, even extremely long quotes, have been presented in these notes before, but the length this quotation would be if the full extent of it were written here would be a mess, and quite frankly, at that point it would do one better to simply go to the fanfiction itself and read the text from there. With the context received from these notes, if one wishes to see the words for themselves, go to chapter 21 of The Emperor and the Goddess, enter Ctrl + F (or Find in Page on mobile devices), and enter the phrase "Byleth crossed her arms, clearly frustrated" verbatim. The following note will not be quoting the entire scene from the fic (merely summarizing it), though context is needed to understand how truly bad the scene is. **

- To have hope in this fic performing anything correctly is proving to be a fool's dream, for it has yet to do anything right; that includes the aforementioned gash upon Edelgard's back. As stated, it did not draw the attention of those who were sitting around her nor did it draw the attention of the one who witnessed the injury itself, nor of the one who delivered the injury itself, so no one commented on the gaping, bleeding wound Edelgard was "hiding" from everyone as she turned her (bleeding) back to them and left for the baths to clean up (it must be heavily stressed: immediately after leaving it is revealed that the blood is seeping through her uniform). As she was washing - naked, of course - Byleth just so happened to step into the baths with only a towel wrapped around her "for modesty," much to the horror of Edelgard, for she does not want Byleth seeing her scarred body. A slight argument arises between the two over Edelgard getting her injuries checked, before Byleth warns Edelgard that she will go to Rhea and force her to go to the infirmary should Edelgard continue to refuse treatment, which drives Edelgard past the brink. She raises her arms from the bathwater and presents her scars (""Fine!... If you want to see so badly, here!""), to the horror of Byleth ("Byleth Eisner was not a woman given to strong emotional reactions, but she staggered back, hands over her mouth."). Edelgard cries in hysteria, fear of her beloved teacher running away in disgust over her ugly, mutilated body overwhelming her. But Byleth, childlike in her innocence, shared that she too is scarred in strange ways, and that she too is scared of failing those around her - that she has no ambitions save to help and protect those around her. Byleth reveals that it is Edelgard whom Byleth looks up to for always being so strong and always moving forward, and shows that without Edelgard Byleth wouldn't know how to handle the pressure everyone else puts on her. The exchange ends with Byleth reassuring Edelgard that she is beautiful and not the monster she thinks she is.

- There is no nice way of putting this: this is a classic example of how not to write someone opening up to another about something. Edelgard views herself as weak, ugly, repulsive, a monster, shameful, but it is Byleth's love and affection that gives her comfort and warmth, that gives her hope of something more. It forces Byleth to behave wildly out of character (the author can try to excuse this with "well she wouldn't normally behave like this!" all he wants, it doesn't matter when it goes against the base, canonical Byleth. Strikes against canon: 99) in order for Edelgard's scarred body to be seen as something that is repulsive, that is ugly, that is stained, so much so that the pure, childlike, innocent Byleth couldn't stand to see something so tainted. And yet it is that same pure, childlike, innocent Byleth's pure, innocent, childlike love that pushes away the pain of Edelgard's scars for just that moment. Other characters become suddenly blind and/or forgetful of Edelgard's obvious, bleeding wound so that it is Byleth who can be the one to save Edelgard with her pure, innocent, childlike presence and her pure, innocent, childlike uncertainty about her own insecurities (but only when it is convenient for Edelgard, as even Byleth didn't noticed the gaping, bleeding wound until she was alone with Edelgard where no one could interrupt their bonding moment). This scene is inorganic and forced, ham-fisting Edelgard and Byleth in the same room - the wash room, where both are either naked or nearly naked - so that Byleth is the one to find Edelgard, no one else. No one was worried enough about the sudden exit Edelgard took from the conversation she was having to follow her and make sure she was alright, and Byleth just so happened to enter the baths right after Edelgard. The scene is, to be frank, insulting.

- There have been a couple of joking references to a book titled Stones to Abigail in these notes, but in all seriousness, this scene plays unsettlingly similar to a scene in said book, where a scarred girl who is naked reveals her "ugly" and "revolting" scarred body to the love interest, who goes on to soothe and comfort the naked girl as best they can. The resemblance is uncanny

- Byleth described as childlike/innocent. Counter: 5

- Edelgard, in canon, never expresses feeling herself to be ugly, or repulsive, or a monster. Strikes against canon: 100

- Again, Edelgard's scars are only important when they are convenient - this time, in helping develop the romantic relationship between her and Byleth

- There are ways in which scars can be utilized without being problematic, but certainly not when this much focus is placed on them and yet they are only truly present when they cannot hinder Edelgard.

- Perhaps particularly insulting is this phrase from Edelgard: "Did she actually love Byleth at all, or just being saved by her?" Yes, Edelgard, you do simply want to be saved by Byleth, because that is precisely what the narrative has been drilling into the reader's heads ever since Byleth showed herself. Byleth is Edelgard's light, Byleth is Edelgard's hope, Byleth gives Edelgard back her humanity, Byleth is Edelgard's one source of joy, Byleth is Edelgard's entire life, and nothing, absolutely nothing in this fic has shown this to ever be a bad thing. This dependence on Byleth to bring Edelgard joy at the near complete expense of everyone else has been propped up as something romantic, and yet it's now, 21 chapters and over 85K+ words in, that we're supposed to believe that this was actually Edelgard being unhealthy? Even though the author himself said that this was what he enjoyed about their relationship, how much they found each other in each other? Even though we see what the author thinks would happen to the two of them should they separate - Edelgard, lonely and afraid without her beloved teach, and Byleth, the Ashen Demon who cares for nothing without her beloved student - in her visions of SS? This is a joke

- It cannot be overstated that Byleth came to the bathhouses completely independently of Edelgard. She did not come to specifically see her because she followed her out of worry for Edelgard due to her injury - she only knows that Edelgard's injured in the first place due to seeing bloody bandages that Edelgard removed in the bathhouse, before Byleth arrived.

- Author's notes: "On Bergliez, we find out very little in-game, but he 1) offers himself for execution so his men can go free in SS and 2) seems to be actually competent at his job. I thought a nuanced portrayal was more interesting, since I've been writing Aegir as the absolute worst person in the world." -> Note: this is what the author believes to be a nuanced take on someone. Someone who likes Edelgard entirely and does nearly whatever they can to help her, but they did one thing that's morally gray (leaving a child behind to save his own children from the same fate) that is portrayed as objectively bad, so now they are nuanced. While perhaps this sort of character would be truly nuanced in better hands, as it is with his actions being portrayed as something that is obviously so completely and utterly wrong and him someone who deserves complete and utter condemnation - and yet Ionius, who does far worse for far less understandable reasons, gets a comparative slap on the wrist - it causes confusion as to Edelgard's lines. Bergliez seeing her the one time and never helping her is enough for her to want to hurt him as she was hurt, but her father repeatedly coming to and "being forced" to watch her actively be tortured and doing nothing does little to invoke similar depths of resentment? Even granting the idea that "she gives more slack to her father," Ionius is objectively and far worse than Bergliez, down to doing hard things to protect their children, and yet it is only Bergliez who is shined in this unpleasant a light

- To be clear, Bergliez's decision was not a good one, but understandable. It is a gray decision to make. But notice how he is called "gray" and "nuanced" and yet Ionius is nearly completely innocent, as described by the author himself, despite their being no given explaination as to why "he was a figurehead" should be a good enough reason to wash him literally standing there and watching as his children - some of whom aren't even teens yet - get slowly tortured and killed.

- "There are many localization changes I understand (Byleth wanting to get drunk after the battle is one of them), but Treehouse's decision to remove Ionius' entire reason for power centralization (eliminating the consorts) was a big, big mistake." -> Given the history of this author's grasp on the Japanese language, this needs to be checked, as he cannot be trusted as a source as to whether this is true

******* Notes of Claude mischaracterization: Chapter 21, section 1, paragraphs 1, 21 & 23, 27 *******

#o captain my captain #is the Cap'n's name fuckin' Greg holy shit #this chapter was baaaaad #b-but hey maybe i'm just being overly critical?

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violetnotez · 5 years ago

Text

HC: Mineta being a Pervert to the Boys S/o

@dekulover555: Hey could I request something with kamanari/bakugo/deku/kirishima when minnetas being a pervert to a fem s/o and like touching her up even after she’s asked him to stop please and thankyouxx

In which case MIneta can jump off a cliff

Pairings: Kaminari x reader | Bakugo x reader | Deku x reader | Kirishima x reader

(RULES | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

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Kamanari

Usually Kaminari is a pretty chill dude

Him and Mineta used to drool over girls all the time- including you

They had talked and made elaborate plans all the time to see if they could somehow get the girls to be shirtless or get to see them in their underwear- but none of their plans would ever work, they were more just like fantasies they would freak out over

When Kaminari started dating you, those talks kinda stopped- he had a girl now! He didn't need to talk about other girls- he had one he loved and cherished and who was already hot!

So Mineta had been pretty deprived of any type of NSFW talk (cause nobody else was willingly gonna deal with his horny ass)

One day, you were sparring with Bakugo in the gym, when his quirk accidentally lit your shirt on fire

You instantly shouted in surprise, ripping off your PE shirt before it could burn you

MIneta-Boob-Radar Activated

“What the hell Bakugo!” you stood there, your skin turning red from the heat so close to your skin

“Well- you should have dodged it dunce face!”

As Bakugo was red in the face trying not to make eye contact with you, Mineta literally latched onto your leg

“No wonder why Kaminari’s dating you- your chest is amazing!”

You tried shaking him off, but his grip was too strong- he started making grabbing motions towards your chest and you felt your cheeks get warm with anger

“Get off you of me little purple freak!”

Kaminari had been working with Kirishima, not noticing your dilemma until Bakugo had stomped over to tell him what was happening

Kaminari never got angry easily, but the sight of Mineta trying to crawl up your body made him erupt with rage

You were clearly uncomfortable as you tried to cover up your exposed top portion with a clingy MIneta on you

“Please! One touch, thats all!”

“Get the hell off of me Mineta!’

Kaminari ran over to you, yanking Mineta off your leg as Kirishima and Bakugo followed

your in Bakusquad if your dating Denki, its ride together or die together with this group

“What the hell are you doing dude?!” Kaminari yelled at Mineta who literally had tears in his eyes

This grape is way too damn horny oml

You instantly ran to Kaminari, hugging yourself against him- he always made you feel safe

Mineta trudged off, knowing full well he wasnt getting anything more with Bakugo and Kirishima glaring daggers at him

You hugged Denki, a soft smile gracing his face

“You okay babe?” he asked as he pulled away from you slightly, looking at your face

“Yeah, Im fine- I just need a new shirt, that’s all.”

Thats when it fully registered to him that you didnt have a shirt on- he then noticed how your slighty bare chest felt pressed against his chest, and then he looked down- and oh crap he probably almost had a boner right then and there

“I-uh-um-yeah, that’d probably be best!” he would stutter and giggle, feeling his quirk go into overdrive

“But you do kinda look nice like this though…”

“Denki I swear to god I will kick you.”

Bakugo

Does Mineta want to die?

This boy is POSSESSIVE

AN ANIMAL

You are his girl, his s/o, his lover, his EVERYTHING

If anyone touches what is his he will MURDER them

He overreacts allottt

But this anger definitely comes in handy when you needed a certain pervy grape to get away from you

During a training session, you had the unfortunate fate of being paired with Mineta

It would have been fine, if only Mineta would stop drooling all over you like you were a piece of meat

“You ready, beautiful?” he’d ask before you started your training mission

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore his eyes practically undressing you as you walked past him

Mineta knows full damn well that by you being Bakugo’s s/o, he would get pummeled for so much as thinking such lewd thoughts about you

But he had been eyeing you for so long, and if Bakugo wasn’t around, he thought he would be okay and not die if Bakugo wasnt near you

Oh how stupid that assumption was

As you two are walking, he just stares at your ass, keeping a few paces behind to watch it as you walk

“Can you not?” you ask, disgust in your voice

“What?” he asks as if he wasnt doing anything, “Im just walking.”

You fight the urge to kick him

You just sigh, turning around- it would be a long class period being paired with him for a training exercise, but you could manage

Of course this little purple idiot begins to start staring at your rear again

Anger and dread bubbles in your stomach- could he just not be like this for one second??

You could easily pummel him into the ground- but you didnt want to waste your energy on somebody who didnt deserve to have your energy wasted on in the first place

So you continually took the anger that was caused by Mineta’s perverted staring

The icing on the cake though was when you felt a light squeeze on your rear, making you shoot around in shock

There he was, his hand in midair and this disgustingly blissful expression on his face

“Did you JUST-” you practically yelled out, rage and embarrassment making you begin to turn red

“I couldnt help it- it just looked so touchable-” he said, his hand about to touch you on your ass again

You took off in a run, Mineta making grabby hands behind you

You finally found Bakugo, who was paired with Yaomomo

“Katsuki!” you’d yell, running into his arms

He instantly noticed something was wrong- you were cuddled into his neck, giving a very pale looking Mineta a dirty look

“What the hell is going on?” he asked, his face harsh and serious

“He-he,” you gulped, the embarrasment rising, “he touch my, uh-”

Bakugo didnt need to hear anymore- he was concerned Mineta would do this, and now his fear became into reality

He internally kicked himself- he should have known Mineta would pull some pervy shit like that on you- he should have made sure you would have been okay

But that guilt quickly got overtaken by an incontrollable rage

“Did you just touch my girlfriend you fucking pervert?” he’d growl, his voice dangerously low

That meant shit was going down

Mineta gulped, his face paler than a sheet- Bakugo then grabbed him by the front of his shirt, dangling a terrified Mineta in the air

“Where?!”

“Huh?” Mineta asked in fear

“Where the hell did you touch her you idiot?!”

“Her-uh-her-butt-but-” Mineta sqeuaked out, trying to form some sort of excuse

Welp that when Bakugo saw black

You and Momo had to restrain Bakugo as he started going on a rampage, screaming all kinds of profanities

“You fuckng extra!! Im going to kill you! Shes my girl- you have no fucking right to touch her! Do that one more time and Ill blow you ass up! You hear me?! You so much as look at her and your ass will be seven feet under in your own ashes!”

Yeah- Whenever Mineta now sees you he walks the other way, and he hasnt bothered you since

Deku

Deku is very oblivious to Mineta’s harassment

Like- he can’t be that bad right???

*cough cough YES HE CAN

But if you tell him he will be the first to stomp over and give him a piece of his mind

If he sees it- oh he will be so UPSET

Mina has somehow rounded you up into one of her personal projects, in which she was creating an all girl dance

It was you, Momo, Toru, and Mina learning the choreography to a really upbeat girl group song

Tasty Carrots by Shou

You had finally learned all the choreography, now switching into outfits so Mina could put it into her social media

This girl def has a Tik Tok

Mina has put you all in little skater skirts, yours being high waisted, pleated, and reaching just barely reaching your mid thigh

Mina was squealing- “You all look so cute!!! We are TOTALLY going viral!”

Right as Mina started the music, and you began to do a few practice runs, Mineta and Kaminari walking past

Mineta had spotted you all from like a mile away

His literal wet dream- a bunch of girls dancing in little skirts

None of you notice though- you just continued with the choreography, attracting a little group on onlookers from the blaring music-including Midoriya

Mineta had pulled out his phone half way through and instantly started taking pics

At one part of the dance you have a tiny duet part with Mina where you bend down slightly

This perv instantly got right under you and took a whole ass pic

You heard a flash and look between your legs, seeing the purple idiot

You screeched, your face red as you yanked your skirt down

Mina instantly started yelling at Mineta, trying to catch the little idiot while Kaminari tried to yank his phone away from him

Izuku was filled with raged-how dare he do that to you?!? He was about to give him a piece of your mind, but seeing your embarrassed face made him think otherwise

He ran over, wrapping you into a hug

You were feeling so dumb-you didn’t even notice the little group of onlookers forming, making you feel even more embarrassed

Midoriya then sees Mineta run past, and as if on instinct grabs him by the arm

Mineta squeaks, regret riding through his body-nobody has ever seen Midoriya look this mad

Izuku yanks Mineta’s phone out of his hand, quietly searching through his camera roll

He finds the picture and hi face turns a little red because geez you do look really hot-

He quickly (and permanently) deletes it, so Mineta can’t go into his recently deleted, and hands it back to him

“Don’t you ever, EVER do that again.” The threat seemed simple but the way Midoriya voice was full of ice and his eyes on fire made Mineta’s skin turn cold

Kirishima

sorry if this one seems longer than the rest!

It was the end of the year and Yaomomo had invited everyone to her house for a big summer celebration pool party!

Of course everyone was excited- Yaomomo was rich and her house was beautiful and massive! Also she was the best hostess anyone could imagine

Mineta was excited for another reason- he couldn’t wait to see all the girls in bathing suits of their own choice, not the dumb leotard-like ones the school made them wear

Secretly hoped they were as skimpy as possible

Momo had invited all the girls the night before to a massive sleepover- you all went shopping for new suits at a beach themed boutique

Of course it was super expensive, but the owners of the shop were friends of Yaomomo’s parents and gave you all a FAT discount

Everyone was super happy with their suits- yours was all red, with a strappy red top, the bottom also matched in color and were slightly high waisted and showed off the sides of your thighs

The next morning you all spent time getting ready and helping Momo prepare to when everyone else came

Everyone started trickling in and greeting each other, getting snacks supplied by Momo and swimming or dancing to the “Top 50 Songs” playlist blasting outisde

You were in the kitchen getting some punch with Mina when Kirishima and Bakugo came in

Bakugo looked like he would rather be anywhere but there, while Kirihsima was just excited to find you and have some fun!

When Kirihsima saw you- his mouth dropped- you looked seriously stunning and he couldnt make his heart stop pounding so hard

Also your wearing red- he can try to act as chivalrous as he wants but he cant deny that red on you makes him go CRAZY inside

“Kirishima!” you yell happily when you see him, running over to give him a hug

He instantly twirls you around and tells you how pretty you look

You go outside and everyone begins to hang out, playing some games, swimming, dancing, or just plain mingling

Mineta is of course on a mission- he is just sitting in a really dark corner of the party pratically trying to memorize how all the girls look and drooling like a perv, concocting a plan in his twisted head of his

The moment he hears Uraraka yell- “Who wants to play volleyball- Boys vs Girls!” He instantly jumps up- now was time to get his plan in action

You and Kirishima join Uraraka, Izuku, Kaminari, Mina, Bakugo, and Tsuyu in the game

What you all didnt notice was Mineta, who was waiting patiently to pounce on one of the girls- he unfortunately chose you as his victim

When you wadded towards the end of the pool to try and save the ball, Mineta had reached over and pulled at one of the straps of your top, easily detangling it from your chest

You felt something loosen- and then horror rippled throughout your body

You qiuckly ducked under the water, only your eyes visible as your face was on fire

Mineta at first was cheering, your top tangled in his grubby hands, but then everyone started screaming at him, Mina throwing every threat she could think of while Uraraka tried to block you from sight and Froppy got you a towel

What really terrified Mineta was Kirishima- he was desperately trying to crawl out of the pool, all the boys trying to restrain him because he was literally going to KILL Mineta

Nobody had ever seen Kirishima that mad- even Bakugo

Mineta ran off, still holding onto your top as Tsuyu wrapped you in a towel

Kirishima ran over to you, wrapping you in a hug

“You okay? Im so sorry that happened! I’ll get your top back- I promise!”

And this boy did-of course after he calmed down- while Bakugo followed suit

As much as Bakugo hates to admit it, he does like you and you being his best friend’s girl, he protects you as much as Eijirou does

They both found where Mineta was hiding, Bakugo grabbing the little grape while Kirishima rambled on about “how unmanly that was” and how Mineta needed to “respect women and be more chivalrous”

Also may or may have not have told him that if he ever did anything like that again he wouldnt hestitate to teach him a lesson

After that little stunt, Yaomomo kicked him out of the party, all the girls breathing a sigh of relief

Kirishima came back, all the girls sitting around you and giving support-but once they saw Kiri they’d knew you’d be okay and gave you some privacy

This boy cuddled the crap out of you for the rest of the day and didnt wanna let go

------------

Requests open| Matchups closed!

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thesunshinebunny · 4 years ago

Text

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part III)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

Summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: It will take more than a betrayal and blood blath for the reader to stop protecting those who really need it.

Words count: 4.7k

I knew things were going to go from bad to worse when we returned to Paradis; but I never imagined that I would have a letter from the Supreme Commander on my desk. Days had passed since my fiasco conversation with Eren, spreading the word of my insubordination towards the lack of notification to the respective authorities. Sure, the guards had let me into the cell just because they knew me, but I never had the decency to tell Hange-san or even ask for a meeting with the Supreme Commander.

And here I was. Wrapped up in a much bigger shit roll since I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps, with a simple letter demanding my presence in his office for a little "talk."

The medical center where I could do my practices with ease was quite far from the justice’s court where the Supreme Commander was, having to go out to ride through the beautifully paved streets. A street I crossed, a street I saw citizens read the newspapers that had brought so much catastrophe to peace within the walls. People were revolting against the militancy, demanding Eren's immediate release, praising he was the only one who could lead Eldia to its ultimate glory.

If they could heard themself right now. They spoke as if Paradis itself had become an empire, a power on the verge of attacking and taking every country under its feet. It was as if they wanted to turn the game around, to be us the empire and our enemies the war slaves.

I was still far from my destination, but the crowd could be seen cowering above the barred court doors. Men and women with posters screaming without sense or unity, an angry mob demanding explanations, ready to use violence to make their way into the hierarchy.

I got off my horse when I faced the crowd, needing to get up front and through the secured gate and with my loyal traveling companion I wasn't going to make it. I left him tied up outside a local, asking the owner to take care of him, if necessary, I would give him a monetary compensation on my returned.

I tried to get through the mob, asking permission, even nudging some people, but no matter how hard I tried to take a step forward, there was always a bastard blocking my way or pulling me back; They even had the decency to grab my coat and throw me off.

"Excuse me, but I need to pass"

Empty words at this situation. If they didn’t listen to the specialized people of the militancy, it was obvious that they wouldn’t listen to me, a simple doctor in practice for the legion.

"Free the leader of the Eldian empire"

"Free Eren Jaeger"

"Give us some damn answer"

"Fuck off you cheap bitch"

The day wasn’t even beginning and I was already receiving hateful comments, typical of closed minds.

I looked around for a solution, I was wasting valuable time and starting to get irritated. If I was late for my meeting with the Supreme Commander, who knows what punishment he would give me apart from my insubordination.

Besides of the mob there wasn’t much more than a few elegant houses and shops, no other entrance except the one in the backyard, but to get there, I would have to go all the way around the building and it would take much longer. The walls were too high to jump alone and too smooth to climb, otherwise enough people would have sneaked in by now.

I turned my head towards my horse, which was still in the same position where I left him, patiently awaiting my return. Surely what I was about to do wasn’t going to please him one bit.

I ran as fast as I could and unhooked him from the wooden post, ignoring the comments of the owner of the premises who was indisputably claiming for his pay. Without turning my head to such scum, I motioned for the horse to turn around and run down the avenue, against the crowd. Being at a considered distance, I again instructed him to turn around and go as fast as he could.

"I'm sorry Phillip, you're going to have to forgive me for what I'm going to do"

We were a few meters from the mob, mentally preparing myself for the feat that was about to be accomplished. Almost arriving, about to impact, I gave him a little jerk to the right, guiding us towards the wall, and raised my legs towards his back, squatting against him, waiting for the right moment and the impulse he would give when braking hard.

When he was about to slam his trunk against the wall, Phillip stopped his galloping, propelling me forward and flying toward one of the door columns. I grabbed the stone as best I could, avoiding falling on my backside, and raised my legs towards the top, finally reaching my goal. Being already on top and looking at the terrified faces of the rebels, I went down to the other side of the door, slightly hurting my feet and hands in the fall.

"That was quite a show"

Hitch was already in front of me, malicious and proud on her face. She was giving a few applause to the air, trying to lift the spirits of the people of the military squad, even if her acting was a bit cocky.

"Desperate situations call for desperate measures." I waved my hands over the coat, looking at her with the same smug visage she was giving me.

I didn't like Hitch per se, but we weren't friends either. The way she acted and talked gave me bad vibes and I planned to stay as neutral as possible in her presence. Even her gazes seemed to want to pierce the soul of whoever she was speaking to, as if she wanted to undress you internally and seek your darkest and most shameful secrets. I would stick my hands in the fire by assuming that in her younger years she had been a bully or a blackmailer.

But it was better to keep those thoughts for yourself, before generating greater repercussions in the times that hugged us.

"Did you come to see Armin and Mikasa?"

Any thoughts I had of her dissipated.

"They ... are they here?"

I was fuzzy. Not because of the fact that I was uninformed about their actions when they left the legion barracks in the morning, which I was getting used to since last year, but because they were in the same place as me. What a coincidence.

To be honest, the two of them never owed me anything and it wasn't their duty to tell me where they were going every minute of the day, just like Hange. Each one of us had their own will to go where we were sung; But if the three of us were in court, and if they gave me the chance to guess, I would say that to see the Supreme Commander, it made me a bit suspicious.

"Yes, they are talking to the Supreme Commander to try to go talk to Eren"

I must have hit my head at some point in the battle of Marley, because lately every occurrence was quite impossible to believe. They were the ones who asked me to go talk to him a few days ago, they were the ones who questioned me when I returned to the waiting room where the few survivors of 104° Squad were;it was them who gave me a compassionate look as they saw I hadn’t accomplished much and I had ended any relationship that bound me with Eren.

And now here they were, demanding an audience with their childhood friend, while I would have to be judged for the same action. Something wasn’t fitting. I looked around trying to find them, or maybe to find an answer to the thousands of questions that were forming in my head, and finding no help, I turned to Hitch.

"What is going on? Why-"

Before I could finish my question, an explosion rumbled across the cobblestone floor, hurting our ears and knocking us to the ground. Fire and debris couldn’t only be seen in the air but also smelled, flooding our nostrils, causing us to cough and cover our eyes with debris.

I looked up to find a flare coming from one of the court offices and a heavy body falling in our direction. I couldn't make it out until it fell to the ground, leaving a stain of blood and ash around it, apart from leaving a trail of smoke from where it flew off. My eyes were opened with shock and amazement, since the person in front of me was nothing more and nothing less than the same militant leader, half of the body lost and burned by the explosion.

"Well ... that's new"

In all my years of service I have seen every horror inside and outside the walls. True, even the Survey Corps had acted against the law, but it was for the greater good, to expose the bastards who lived on the wall farthest from the sea. I had seen people hit and kick another for a piece of food when the wall Maria fell. I had seen how we were massacred one by one with bullets to the head as we tried to go beyond the walls.

But never in those years I had seen a rebellion like the one taking place, being willing to eliminate such an authoritarian figure as Darius Zackly.

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The chaos went unnoticed by a large part of the population, only those who were present at the time of the explosion and the military police were aware. Faced with such an atrocious event of treason, a small meeting was convened involving the most important heads of each faction; unfortunately I couldn’t be there, my presence had been required in a clinic a few meters from the court. There were quite a few injured.

Some had mild and harmless burns, others had large parts of the body with third degree burns. Some had splinters stuck in their arms and faces, some had a piece of wood stuck in their stomach.

A couple of hours had passed which seemed like weeks to me. I had been assigned the milder cases, but as I pulled the splinters out of a patient's eyes, I had the countless howls of people echoing in my head, listening as they took their last painful breaths. People who asked to die on purpose to ease the pain.

Hours passed and welcomed the next day. I had terrible black circles under my tired eyes, hands stained with dried blood and splintered; they’re fucked up and I needed to heal them as quickly as possible before they got infected. I grabbed the cutting tools and placed them on a metal tray, the cold of the surface soothing the pain in my hands, and although it wasn’t too heavy I felt like it trembled on my grip.

I heard the door open wide at the other side of my last patient's room, the front door, letting in multiple heavy footsteps on the hardwood floor. Apparently, the soldier who had entered was in a hurry or was about to deliver terrible news...I wish I had been wrong in the second option.

"Bad news, Eren Jaeger has escaped from the underground cell"

I dropped the metal tray on my feet, making the sound of metal and utensils rumble across the room. My hands were shaking even more and surely if I saw myself in a mirror I would see my face completely pale.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead"

My words invaded my mind like a bucket of cold water, as if they wanted to make me see that I was to blame for his escape. I knew that sooner or later he’s going to free himself, his eyes showed it and by not getting an answer that contrasted with mine, it was perfect evidence of his plans. But even knowing it, even Hange knowing it, I didn't expect him to do it in a moment of such betrayal.

I cleaned my hands as best I could with a towel hanging over the room sink and grabbed my coat, rushing out of the clinic.

"I’m sorry, I need to go"

But where to go was the question. I had no idea where Eren might be, and even if I knew what he was going to win, surely he was with his followers and with the simple image of me approaching from the horizon, I would be dead in a matter of seconds ... or imprisoned, whatever happen first.

At the exit of the clinic, there were two soldiers of the military police standing guard and watching the justice’s court from the distance. I approached them with the intention of asking them about the whereabouts of the Survey Corps, but they looked at me like I had the plague and pushed me aside hostilely, almost knocking me to the ground. I kept my composure as best I could and looked for someone else to ask; I didn’t have to wait long, since a woman of my age with mahogany hair, extremely black and matted, pointed the way where my comareds had gone. According to her words, they’re heading towards a large and luxurious building in the middle of one of the main avenues, recognizing the word restaurant from the conversation between the riders.

The only place that matched that description was the restaurant where Nicolo worked.

I hurried out with Phillip galloping through people, avoiding stepping on them and apologizing on my back. If there was something clear to me in all this mess, it was that Hange would go to find answers among the working Marleyans of that place. Maybe something could be solved.

I was very wrong.

I rushed into the building, finding only a long entrance hall and a corridor that led to god knows where. No one was even around to see me panic and I didn't see a soul nearby either, the only thing if I could hear a heated discussion far away and heavy footsteps on the floor. I let myself be guided by the sound, running back to its origins and finding a bizarre and meaningless scene in front of my eyes.

The room that seemed to be the main one hosted the orphaned children of the Blouse farm as well as Sasha's parents, sad and anguished parents if I paid better attention. The children were just as sad, with tears in their eyes, especially Kaya; they were crying the same way as on the day Sasha's death was reported. They were cornered under a window all together, hugging each other and letting the rays of the sun streaming through the window illuminate their figures, as if those rays could replace the heat that Sasha had left behind.

That scene broke my still fragile heart. I would have liked to reach out to them and try to help them move on, as I would have liked to stay on the farm with them when we came back from Marley to help them get by; obviously I could never have replaced Sasha and they could never have replaced my family, but in these times of battle, what mattered most was healing the wounds between all of us.

I would have liked to talk to them, but my eyes shifted from the Blouse family to the figure of Hange carefully placing a child on the floor. The blond boy was very badly injured on the side of his head, he was bleeding and his clothes had stuck to his body due to the large amount of liquid that had flowed down his torso.

"Hange-san, Wha-" As I stared at the blond boy on the floor, I could see that he was one of the children who had sneaked into our war balloon.

“Isn't that one of the Marleyan children? Why is he here and why is he bleeding?"

Unconsciously my body leaned forward, resting on one knee on the ground and reaching out to the boy. My instincts as a doctor were screaming for me to tend to the poor injured boy regardless of his race and I was willing to do so.

"We will take care of him, go to the room continue with Mikasa and Armin"

I got up without hesitation, taking one last look at the room I was in and it was just at that moment that I recognized Nicolo and Jean in a corner away from everyone else. They both looked very distressed, but I didn't have the opportunity to ask why, they had given me an order and I had to carry it out. I would have to wait until got back to base to understand this terrible situation.

The room they sent me to was at the end of the corridor, the door was closed but every step I took I could hear the soft voices of Mikasa and Armin, apparently talking to someone else. Well, that conversation must have to get a pause because I was about to slam the door in and leave the doors wide open.

“What the hell is going on? Why is a Marleyan child unconscious in the kitchen?"

Upon entering, all excited, my eyes only saw the figures of Armin and Mikasa around a table. They both looked up at me in disbelief when they saw me standing on the threshold. For the second time that day, I looked back across the stage in front of me and spotted a small brown-haired figure sitting at the same table. With a little more attention, I saw that the small figure was trembling, perhaps from fear or from adrenaline, at the same time that its face was bruised and full of blood; and putting all my attention on that bloody face I realized that I recognized those eyes, those same eyes that I had looked at with contempt and had looked back at me with the same feeling the night of the invasion.

The missing girl from the Marleyan duo was sitting across from me staring with sheep's eyes.

All exaltation I had in my body dissipated, my gaze fell, leaving nothing more than a neutral countenance. But ... anyone who could see through my eyes, would know they reflected the fatigue and sadness of several accumulated days. Seeing the girl was perhaps a way of attaching all the harmful feelings in a single part of my body.

I let out a long sigh and closed the door slowly behind me. I walked slowly towards where the girl was, running Mikasa to the side and looked at her with the best possible adult countenance. She had a red nose, it looked like it had been hit right on her septum causing her to bleed and stain her dress, which I assumed was courtesy of the Blouse family. Her cheek was scratched and red too, traces of broken and inflamed skin could be seen around her wound, but without any bleeding. This girl would have a swollen face the next day if we don't give her some ice.

“You’re hurt. Care to explain me what happened?"

I reached my hand out to her, but was greeted with a flinch from her. I could tell she was scared and she had every right to be.Either way, way I brought my hand to her face, placing my index finger and thumb on her jaw to move her head and look for other injuries.

Her face was the one that received the most impact, nothing in her eyes which was a very good sign, and I didn’t notice any kind of fracture in the bones of her cheek or septum. Good. I looked around the room for something I could use, but I only found empty tables adorned with a classic tablecloth and a very well elaborated and cared wine cellar, apart from showing off one of the best wine collections in recent years.

"Armin, can you go get some alcohol to disinfect the wounds? Surely they have something in the kitchen "

The blonde gave me a slight nod and left the room, leaving me alone with Mikasa, who was absolved of the situation, but still maintaining an imposing posture. The girl was still shaking on my hand, so I pushed her away and inspected her body for more injuries.

The palms of her hands were stained with blood, I guessed from the bleeding from her nose, but they also had some slight scratches, perhaps she had fallen to the floor. Her dress didn’t seem torn in the area of the knees, so I assumed that they weren’t injured or it was a very slight scratch, almost no bleeding. Her arms seemed intact as did her torso. I turned to the back of her head, running her hair gently trying to find any trace of blow that could generate a contusion. I didn’t find anything that could be fatal or serious, but I did see something that caught my attention.

“You have marks on your head, diffuse, but they are there. What happened?"

"... A horse bit me"

Of all the situations that could have led to those brands, I didn't expect to hear this one. I didn’t expect it, not at all. It caught me off guard and I let out a giggle which I covered with the back of my hand.

"Sorry, shouldn't laugh… you deserve it thou" I gave her a little pat on the top of her head before ruffling it a bit and bending down to look into her eyes.

Armin returned to the room, alcohol in hand and a clean cloth. Thank God something was clean in this whole city, I was beginning to lose my faith in the cleanliness of this people. I reached for the items and I proceeded to apply a large amount of alcohol to the cloth and apply it first to the frightened girl's cheek.

"Why are you so good to me? I killed a one of your friends"

That comment made me stop for a second, just like I stopped looking at her wound. My gaze fell to the floor in search of an answer; I searched, searched and searched for answers to questions that didn’t have one or weren’t as simple as they seemed...or simply looked in the wrong places and the answers were always in my mind, only that my heart wasn’t prepared to face them.

"The girl you killed the night of the invasion was called Sasha Blouse and she was the best archer and sniper of the legion"

I turned my gaze to her, continuing to heal her wound on her cheek. When I saw that there was only a small pink stain left on the surface, I moistened the cloth further with alcohol and ran it under her nose, removing any trace of blood. The girl pulled back a bit when she felt it’s smell her nostrils and I had the opportunity to cover her nose for a few seconds to stop the bleeding.

"You know ... you remind me of a boy exactly like you"

When I saw that the bleeding stopped and the girl stopped moving due to the burning and itching that the alcohol was surely causing, I grabbed her hands and began to clean them with small touches avoiding tearing her skin.

“Just as intense and ready to fight for what he thinks is fair. You are just a little girl who was taught that we were the bad guys. It’s the way you were raised, the way you see the world. They taught us something else, but at the end of the day, apart from everything... we are the same"

It hurt. Yes, it hurt to see the one guilty of the death of my best friend, but it hurt more to see in her eyes the hatred and contempt they had taught her towards our race. The hate cycle we were getting into wasn't going to get us anywhere and it was better to nip it in the bud, even with baby steps.

When I finished cleaning all her wounds, I put the cloth on the table and looked at my performance with deep pride. It wasn't much, but it was enough; Not only had I cleaned a few simple wounds, but perhaps, I wished that perhaps, it would begin to heal her mind ... and mine as well.

I got up heavily, noticing how my knees creaked when squatting for a long time and I stretched my body generating more crunches, but noting at the same time how the heaviness of my back left and leave behind a much lighter load.

“Very good, you’ve been a good patient. Surely there is something sweet in the kitchen that I can give you” I patted her head again and gave her a sincere smile, one that I hadn't given anyone for quite a while. I headed to the door unconcerned about the situation I assumed was still going on in the main room.

"What's going to happen to Eren Jaeger?"

What will happen to him? And why does she ask me that?

"Don't worry, I'm not letting him put a finger on you" A sincere answer to a question asked out of fear. I reached the door and in the middle of the sentence I turned the knob wanting to make my way into the hall, but a tall figure blocked my way.

Eren was right on the threshold with the intention of opening it.

Well mark me impress

My body jerked back instinctively, avoiding taking my eyes off his. I moved to the right side, avoiding the figure of the Marleyan girl from being in Eren's point of view. I didn't know why he was here or if the others knew about it, but whatever the reason, he surely wasn’t alone and this wasn’t going to lead to anything good.

"Sit down"

He took a few steps forward, closing the door with his foot, not even paying attention to his surroundings, or maybe yes, now everything was a confusion when it came to the brunette in front of us.

"You can't tell me what to do" I planted myself in front of him, without taking a step back. We were both facing each other, him carrying me several inches tall, several dominating inches that made my legs shake and my heart race.

If it had been in any other situation, that trembling, that acceleration would have been very well received. It was impossible not to feel small next to Eren, the damn bastard had hit a big stretch and there was a great difference around the body between the two, a difference that I always loved to admire.

But not now. Not at this moment when everything was going to shit and I had to stand up to the figure of a little girl who was internally dying of fear thanks to him.

"Sit. Down"

Few centimeters separated us from each other, his chest too close to mine, I could feel how it swelled with each breath. He raised his hand to my face, letting me see his cut palm and dripping blood. Fear took hold of me, making me stand even more in my position, but I wasn’t going to give in so easily.

"You wouldn't" I looked him in the eye, defiant, longed for and everything in between.

"Try me"

It was all he said before grabbing onto my shoulders and pulling me back. My body collided with the table and instinctively I placed my hands on it. I heard how Armin and Mikasa tried to get closer to where we were, but a single glance from Eren made them stay still, submissive, as they lost in their positions. His gaze returned to mine. My breath hitched and I had to avoid with all my might thinking about the position we were entwined.

It wasn’t the time to think about how my hips were slightly elevated, just my butt up on the table and one leg dangling, his knee between my legs, preventing me from closing them and keeping the leg that was hanging in the air. His gaze wandered between our bodies and he returned to my eyes. He tightened his grip on my shoulders and pushed me to the side of the table, dropping me onto the chair next to the girl.

"I said. Sit. Down"

He took his hands off my shoulders, took the seat next to me and Armin and Mikasa sat with him, leaving an air of discomfort and tension in the environment.

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madamewriterofwrongs · 4 years ago

Note

my sweet darling - how about an armed forces 911 AU? Maybe Eddie meets Navy Seal Buckley overseas? Maybe they meet back stateside at the VA?

You, my darling, always send me such fun and interesting prompts. I promise I didn’t forget.

Ooh, okay. Let’s see...

Prompt Me with AUs

Delta X-Ray (I am Sinking)

Read on Ao3

Eddie first sees him as he’s getting off the plane in Washington. He’s going to receive a medal. Apparently his work in Bagram made him a hero and not a broken, shell of a man. Who knew. And really, it’s just a glance because he has other things to worry about besides a Navy man getting dressed down by his captain. He doesn’t need to hear what’s being said to know that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s seen that look too many times, felt the hot breath of his superior as they spat harsh words meant to ‘toughen him up’.

As he passes the sailor, he hears something to the effect of “if it happens again, you will be dismissed.” And Eddie wonders how many times this particular man has received this exact lecture. It doesn’t really matter, anyways. He just wants to get his medal, shake a few hands of politicians who think they had anything to do with his ‘accomplishment’ and go home to his wife and child – ex-wife, he reminds himself. Shannon had the papers shipped to Afghanistan. Couldn’t get away fast enough, his mind bitterly supplied. All he would have at the end of the day was his son, and a medal to replace the wedding band he’d worn since he was 19.

Before he knows it, he’s standing on a small stage, a million lights flashing in his eyes as cameras and stage lights practically blind him. His shoulder aches – out of the sling for the afternoon so he can at least look more put together than he feels – and he’s dizzy from the attention. That’s his excuse for why he doesn’t recognize the man standing beside him.

“Seaman Petty Officer First Class Evan Buckley.” A blond man steps forward and Eddie catches himself staring at the dress whites and stone expression for longer than is strictly necessary. He seems a far cry from the officer being scolded less than an hour ago, but it is definitely him. And he was standing on stage beside Eddie, about to receive a medal of his own.

“For distinguishing oneself by heroism not involving actual conflict with an enemy of the United States, Petty Officer Buckley is awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Medal.”

As he watches the stripes being pined on the officer’s lapel, he lets himself wonder what crime the man could have committed to be dressed down and rewarded in the same afternoon.

He’s so curious, in fact, that he nearly misses his own name amongst the titles thrown around.

“Staff Sergeant Edmundo Diaz.” He steps forward, holding his breath until the entire ordeal is finally finished. “For gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States, Staff Sergeant Diaz is awarded the Silver Star.” The medal is heavier than he anticipated, but he supposes that makes sense. It is quite a burden he’ll be carrying around, and now he has a gold star to go with it – he wants to chuckle at the irony of his ‘Silver Star’ actually presenting as a golden one.

It seems everything about his life is a life.

There were a lot of reasons Eddie hated attending events like this: The politics, the bravado, the crowds of people ‘thanking him for his service’. Mostly, though: he never knows anyone. Sure, he can charm a senator or two for a few minutes, swap stories with other officers from other divisions about where they were and what they saw. But those are fleeting relationships, meant to get him through the day. He’ll go back to his hotel room at the end of the night with no more friends than when he’d stepped off the plane in this awful, awful town. Eddie is tired of ‘schmoozing’. With any luck, today will be the last time he has to tell the governor’s wife how lovely she looks in her dress.

That’s when he spots the man sitting at the edge of the bar like he’s trying to hide from the world, and he decides to make his way over.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asks, even as he sits down.

The other man’s eyes light with recognition – and damn, are they as blue as the sea. “Not at all. Diaz, right?”

“Eddie.” He supplies, raising a finger to the bartender to snag his attention. If he is going to make it to the end of the evening, he’s going to need one, good drink. “And you’re Buckley.”

“Actually, it’s Evan but you can call me ‘Buck’.” His amusement must be evident because his new drinking buddy supplies the answer. “There are a surprising amount of ‘Evan’s in the Navy.”

It had never occurred to him to check how many ‘Eddie’s were in his squadron. Maybe he should ask his CO if that’s why he always called him by his full first name.

“Congratulations, by the way.” Buck looks somewhat nervous even as the words leave his mouth. “On your medal. Good job.”

“Oh.” Is all Eddie can bring himself to say as he stares into the bottom of his glass. “Thanks.”

“You don’t look too happy about it.”

He really isn’t doing a good job of hiding his emotions if this relative stranger ca read him so easily. “No, I-” he takes a deep breath to recalibrate his thoughts and paste his best fake smile. “It is a great honour.”

“Bullshit.” Buck laughs in his face but for some reason, Eddie doesn’t bristle nearly as hard as he expected. It almost feels playful. The rest of Buck’s response is cut off by his buzzing phone on the counter. The man quickly grabs it long enough to check his notifications, returning it to its place at the bar with a disappointed look.

“Are we keeping you from something?”

“Uh, no.” It’s Buck’s turn to look caught out and in need of recalibration. His expression changes much slower. “I’m just waiting for a call from my sister. I sent her an invitation to this thing but she never responded.”

Eddie has experience with family not coming to big social events like this one. Of course, in his case, he never invited them in the first place.

“Family ain’t easy.” He shrugs as he takes a long sip of whatever burning liquid he’d ordered – it really doesn’t matter so long as he can stay sitting here and not mingling with the crowds of vultures.

“It’s more than that.” Buck looks worried, and the way he bites his lip is… Eddie shouldn’t be focusing on that. “It’s just…” The man shakes his head, dismissing whatever feelings were eating at his gut. “I don’t want to bore you.”

“Please.” Eddie leans into his space with a playful smile. “It can’t be any more boring than this event. Please try to bore me to tears, if you dare.”

When Buck smiles, Eddie’s heart flutters out of his chest and sits beside him as they listen to Buck begin to speak. He tells Eddie about his sister, how she cared for him growing up, how she went away with her asshole of a boyfriend – now her deceased asshole of a husband – leaving him to fend for himself. He talks about travelling the country, trying every odd job he could get his hands on, until a buddy of his suggested he join the Navy. And he loves the work, he really does, but he hasn’t seen his sister in over a year. Their last conversation ended in a fight about some family secret that Buck is reluctant to talk about. Even Eddie can tell that the man just misses his sister. No matter what the argument was about.

Eddie finds himself talking – in less detail – about Shannon and the divorce and his son at home. At Buck’s prompting, he shows off his favourite photos of Christopher (avoiding the one burning a whole in his shirt pocket, torn and bloody, which never leaves him). The man’s face positively lights up when he sees the kid, offering an appropriate amount of sympathy for his divorce without pushing him for more emotions.

It’s easy talking to Buck, he realizes after a few hours. Because suddenly, the venue rental is nearly up and he’s still sitting at the corner of the bar, talking to Buck. Sure, a few people have passed by and shaken their hands, thanking them for their service – Eddie cringes every time and Buck has to hide his laughter once he realizes – but for the most part, it’s just the two of them, sitting and talking.

“The flag signalling we use now was established in 1855.” Buck explains as he leans further into Eddie’s space. “And while Robert Morse invented Morse Code in the 1830s, the International Morse Code that we use didn’t come out until the 1850s.”

“How do you know all of that?” Eddie was fairly certain he hadn’t had to study the history of communication when he was in training. But he’d also been very focused on his medical textbook.

Buck was incredibly cute when he blushed, Eddie decides – though he opts to keep that opinion to himself for now. “I get bored and I read.” The man shrugs nonchalantly, as though he hasn’t been entertaining Eddie with stories of Naval history and his own dumb-ass mistakes all evening. Honestly, Eddie wants to sit here all night and listen to Buck tell him stories of the world. It seems like he’s lived a lifetime already. And what has Eddie done? Gotten a girl pregnant, joined the army, gotten shot, and now he doesn’t even have a wife to go home to.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie realizes too late that Buck looks nervous. He thinks he probably wouldn’t have said yes if he’d noticed. “How did you get your medal?”

Now he knows he doesn’t have to answer – and his initial instinct is to close out his tab and see if he can run to El Paso on his still-injured leg. But he also realizes that he hasn’t told anyone since it happened. Not the full story. Even now, he might not have the words. But he tries.

“Our helicopter got shot down while transporting wounded. I could still move so I got everyone out. Or I tried to get them out.” The echo of gunfire is not as distant as the others told him it would be. He can still smell it. “Support finally arrived and they decided to give me a medal for holding down the fort.”

Buck places a gentle hand over his and Eddie gasps, reminded that it has been a very long time since anyone has touched him. God, how he misses it.

“You saved wounded soldiers in the middle of the desert while being fired on. And you think you were just doing your job?”

“I’m an army medic.” He reasons with the bottom of his glass. “It’s my job to save people.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think that’s why you do it.” Without elaborating, Buck smiles at him and Eddie forgets the question.

“What about you?” He asks instead. “What’s yours for?”

Unlike the enthusiastic, bubbly personality he’s been talking to for the last few hours, Buck melts into the face he saw up on that stage. The stoic, professional.

“We were on our way back from an escort mission when we encountered some rough seas. I happened to be on deck with the chief mate when he had a stroke. I tried to tend to him but the storm was getting worse and no one could find the captain, so I just took over navigation. It was rough, I had no idea what I was doing, but we all made it out safely and the chief mate was okay.” As Buck shrugs, memories of an overheard conversation come flooding back to Eddie’s mind.

“Wait, were you on the USS Angelo?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Eddie can’t believe it. He has to laugh. “You were the cadet who sailed out of Hurricane Ida?”

“I am a petty officer first class, I’ll have you know.”

“Buck, you navigated a 2,000 ton ship out of a hurricane and all they gave you was a lousy medal?”

“I should get that printed on a t-shirt, or something.”

“That was incredibly reckless but also incredibly brave. Buck, you’re a hero.”

“I was just doing my job.” The smirk tells Eddie he knows exactly what he’s doing but it still hits him that he’s throwing Eddie’s words back in his face. Cute and cheeky.

He doesn’t know why he asks – well, he does, but it’s incredibly stupid and impulsive, and he definitely can’t blame it on the alcohol but he sure would like to.

“How long are you in town?”

Buck looks pleasantly surprised by his question but answers with regret in his eyes. “I head out with the Fifth Fleet in the morning.”

Wow. “You just got a medal, and you’re headed out to earn another one?”

“Something like that.” Buck laughs and Eddie wishes he was braver than he felt. “But I won’t be gone forever. And I’m really good at telegraphy if you wanted to send anyone a message.”

He’s so grateful that Buck has the good sense to be everything he needs right now. Because asking the next question is easier with someone standing next to him. “I suppose I’ll need a way to get in touch with you, then.”

Buck winks and Eddie has never been gladder that the concept of ‘standing’ was only metaphorical. The man should not be so irresistible after only a few hours, but Eddie can’t help but watch him push off his barstool and walk around the side of the bar.

“Hey, Diaz!” The spell is broken long enough for him to look across the room at where his name is being called. He waves at old friends – well, Senior Airman Han and Space Force First Sergeant Wilson are the closest things he has to old friends but in actuality, he’s not sure he knows their first names. “We’re going to the afterparty, want to join?”

On a normal night, Eddie would decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather lay in bed and watch reruns of ‘Murder She Wrote’. Tonight, Eddie wants to decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather stay up all night talking to someone who makes me feel curious about the future.

“Not tonight.” He shouts back across the room. “I’ll catch you at the next ceremony.”

They wave him off because they know it’s the same excuse he makes every single time but the only thing that matters is getting back to Buck.

“So.” He turns to the bar only to find it empty. The seat beside him is also unoccupied, as is any of the space surrounding him.

Had he dreamed up Buck? Had he been imagining this person who made him feel like divorce wasn’t his last chance at happiness? Was he truly so desperate and lonely?

“Hey.” Eddie looks up with too much hope in his eyes to only come face-to-face with the bartender. “He left this for you.” The man – who is not Buck, no matter how much Eddie hopes to see those eyes again – slides a napkin across the counter and walks away before Eddie can ask anymore questions.

He picks up the napkin and reads the blue ink-stained note written in messy scrawl.

Kilo

--... .---- --... ..... ..... ..... -.... --... ----. .----

The dots and dashes he recognizes as a series of numbers – a phone number, he hopes – but the word above? He tries to recall his academy days.

Kilo. Short for Kilogram. Used in the International Code of Symbols to represent the letter ‘K’. In Maritime Signal Flags, it indicates: I wish to communicate with you.

He’s pretty sure the bartender hates him for how late he stayed and how loudly he laughed at Buck’s note, but he can’t bring himself to care. Instead, he spends his energy memorizing the napkin’s contents long after he’s input the number. It’s more than just a piece of paper: it’s hope.

#military au #911 on fox #911 fox #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 fic #first meeting #cj answers things #florenceandthemachine #cj writes things #love flo

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thedevillionaire · 4 years ago

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Where The Heart Is

So first there was this lovely scenario by @stealthy-sneezing and then I received this insanely flattering prompt from @you-dont-look-so-good and only, uh...three weeks later (LOL, speedy turnaround is an unreliable thing in these parts, I'm afraid) here's my attempt at a little fic based around it. --- Kia doesn’t greet him with her usual kiss good morning as she joins him in the kitchen; she does not, in fact, acknowledge him at all as she passes by. What sleep she’d managed to get had been restless and broken, for a start, and she’s still more than a little out of sorts over last night’s…

Fight?

She’s reluctant to use the term, even to herself. But there had nevertheless been some tensely exchanged differences of opinion, whatever term she gives it. They hardly ever argue and it weighs on her heavily, disproportionately.

She busies herself with breakfast-preparing activities, pointedly avoiding the dining bench where her bonded sits wrapped in a plush burgundy dressing robe and an almost tangible aura of bleariness which suggests that he didn’t sleep particularly well, either.

And there’s no question that he’s…not sounding his best.

Cerberus takes a sip of his steaming coffee, sniffles sharply and rubs his nose with firm frustration against the itch that’s been bothering him since waking, flicking his gaze momentarily across to Kia in a cursory attempt to ascertain her mood.

She very deliberately looks away.

Maybe, she thinks with more than a touch of snippiness as he sniffles again,you should have come home when you said you would. It’s totally possible to delegate sometimes, you know. Like, just once, even, maybe? And while she doesn’t Mindsend him her thoughts, she certainly wills them into the aether. Just a touch.

It’s not even about being late, though, she continues internally, making her point to herself with conviction as she peers into a second cupboard for the blackberry spread she can’t seem to find, I don’t care if you’re late, really, it’s about promising me for the third time this week that you wouldn…

The hitch in his breath severs her sentence momentarily but she doesn’t intend to…

“Huh-TSCHH-uu!”

Kia’s own breath catches a little, too, although she keeps her focus resolutely fixed on the cupboard’s interior; she does not want to engage right now and she’s not going to…

“Hh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-TSSCHHhuu! hh-hhH… Hh-AAHTSCH-uu!” Rapid and forceful, urgent, an increasing desperation evident, and she chances a peripheral glance at Cerberus, her ability to concentrate on anything else hijacked into a weighted anticipation almost as singular as his, despite her not wanting to…

A deep inhalation scissored and insistent, a frozen expectant moment and he gives in again to the maddening itch twice over. “Hhh… hh-TSSCHH-uu! Ah-hh-TSSCHH-uu!” Several sharp sniffles follow; he excuses himself reflexively, habitually, another sniffle following in short order, accompanied by a faintly exasperated sigh and snarlwhispered fuck’s sake.

“Bless you,” Kia says quietly, downplaying her usual heartwarm tone a touch but she doesn’t have it within herself to not acknowledge him. And she can’t help the twinge of concern she feels – or indeed any…other sort of interest – but she doesn’t want her resolve to weaken any further. Not yet, at least.

I’m still mad at you. Stop it.

He nods a perfunctory thankyou for the blessing; she hasn’t turned around so doesn’t notice.

The blackberry spread seems determined to remain unfound and she decides that muscat will do, or whatever’s in this jar, she thinks it’s muscat, it’s not important, really, whatever, does she even want toast, she just needs to…

The sound of a hurriedly claimed fresh succession of tissues being pulled from the box, and her focus dissolves anew.

“Hh-TSCHH-uu!”

And she can sense the expectation of recurrence in his shaky not-quite recovery, his breath unsettled, irregular, and god getting breakfast should really not take this much effort, maybe she’ll just have a cup of tea, this is ridiculous, and from the urgency of gasped inhalation she knows doubtless that he’s going to…

“Huh-AHSSCHuu! Ah-TSSCH-uu! Goddamn it, what the hell is…” Another series of sniffles follows and Cerberus blows his nose, wetly and ineffectively, and with no pause save for a suddensharp gasp, stifles a further sneeze immediately thereafter. “HXTchu! Ugh…” He groans and coughs convulsively from the effort, pushes disarrayed midnight from watering eyes, and growls an undertone of vexation. As if this morning wasn’t uncomfortable enough already.

He coughs again and clears his throat. “Excuse me,” he murmurs, wipes his nose several times, and sniffles again.

“Bless you,” Kia says again, only this time the words come true, sincere, empathic. There’s a resignation in her bonded’s voice that she’s unable to ignore, and her brow creases – something is clearly wrong, and her residual anger over yesterday’s events begins to fall aside in the face of genuine concern, and now she turns to face him.

He sighs heavily as his eyes meet hers. “I, um… *snf!* I don’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me.” Well, you are, but… She closes the cupboard door, leans back against it, any remaining thoughts of breakfast forgotten. “What’s going on?”

“I have n…” His breath catches, but with controlled if shaky exhalation he manages to fight off the urge and stay on course. “I have no idea. Just can’t seem to… *snf!* Can’t seem to stop.” He looks at her with an expression somewhere between irritated chagrin and cautious detachment. “It’s alright. You don’t need t…to… hpt-XCH!” A quiet groan as Kia blesses him again and gently tells him not to stifle; he nods in agreement with her point as he returns to his own. “You don’t need to worry,” he finishes tiredly, taking another handful of tissues and blowing his nose again.

“Huh. You know,” Kia says, “I was actually trying not to, but… I don’t know, you’re not exactly making it easy or something.” She sighs quietly, not unkindly, and crosses the distance between them. “Okay, though, for real. What’s going on?”

:Karmic debt, perhaps?: Cerberus Mindsends, and offers her a darkly rueful smile as he vaporises the latest clutch of used tissues. “You didn’t secretly burn birchbark in here as revenge for last night, did you?” The sniffle following is intentionally pathetic; he runs an index finger along the underside of his nose and glances at his bonded with eyebrow arched in enquiry.

“Oooh.” Kia shakes her head, narrows her eyes at him as if in consideration, and smiles wryly. “You sure you want to give me ideas like that today?”

Cerberus manages a brief chuckle before his focus dissolves unstoppably stolen, relentless urgency returning and he capitulates to cresting need posthaste and absolute – powerful, emphatic, desperate. “Huh-hhAHTSSCHhuu! Ah-TSSCHH-uu! Gods! *snff!*” With a deep sigh, he pushes ebony heaviness from his eyes again, looks up to meet his bonded’s gaze in dishevelled and somewhat hazy self-deprecation. “And thus my brilliant plan to be as unobtrusive as possible this morning continues its wild run of success,” he remarks dryly, claiming a new couple of tissues with purposeful emphatic flourish and another sniffle.

And the last of Kia’s resistance falls away, her heart melting, any remnant vestiges of irritation and indignance cracking, fading, and none of it is important anymore. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, gentle, kind. “You know, I do still love you even when you’re totally wrong about stuff and it’s all your fault,” she adds playfully, then rolls her eyes with a light scoff and affected exasperation. “Wow, I really did mean to be mad at you for a bit longer than this, though.”

She smiles at her bonded, open and affectionate, and Mindsends him a tenderwarm :Bastard.:

Cerberus laughs quietly, sardonically, and wipes his nose. “Well, I’m certain I’ll not be coming home late tonight, in any case.”

Moving to stand behind him, Kia strokes a gentle hand through his hair, touches a kiss to the top of his head as he leans back into her embrace with an enervated soft hum of pleasure.

“Maybe just…maybe just stay home today, sweetheart.”

---

#I've never been asked for a prompt before and I really hope I've done this right #sorry about the three week delay #I'm not one of those amazing receive prompt produce fic writers #I had to veer from the prompt in a couple of places due to who Cerberus is as a person #He's...specific about certain things #my writing #my OCs #other people's ideas #cerberus and kia #cerberus #cerbia #supernatural soap opera

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ggukkiedae · 4 years ago

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❝𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕦𝕡❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ hannah meets up with one of her close friends to catch up; alternatively: the fox and the quokka meet again

⇢ set in mid april 2021

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. feedback is highly appreciated!

Hannah shook her head fondly as she watched Yoonmi race down the hall towards the recording studio frequently seen on vlive. She and Yeonjun exchanged amused looks as the young girl excitedly entered the room, yelling the name of her older brother.

“Come on,” Yeonjun placed a hand on her back and sped their pace up, “or else Chan hyung’s gonna use us not being there as an excuse to stay longer.”

She scoffed at that, following Yeonjun regardless. “Please, he’d drop everything for Yoonmi anytime, and you know that.”

Yeonjun’s laugh was the only response she got as they entered the studio. The door opened immediately as they arrived in front of it, revealing Yoonmi dragging a chuckling Chan away to probably her manager’s car.

“Looks like they’ll be gone for a while,” Changbin laughed from the inside before nodding at her with a smile and turning to Yeonjun. “Let’s go before Wooyoung and Haknyeon decide to make us pay for being late.”

Yeonjun nodded and stepped out with Changbin, ruffling her hair on his way out. “See you in a bit, Hannah.

She glared at him a little before turning towards her friend who remained cleaning up the studio. They haven’t been able to see each other since their promotions overlapped. Or since the award shows, actually. “Hey, quokka.”

“Miss foxy,” Jisung playfully bowed at her before continuing to gather up his stuff, “long time no see. You hungry?”

“Always,” she playfully rolled her eyes at him, “or have you forgotten already?”

“Not when you and Yongbok have been constantly sending each other desserts. No cookies recently?”

“Yoonmi makes the best cookies, and she always sends some over to Chan hyung for you guys. Felix told me.”

The betrayed look he had on his face when he realized this made her laugh. It dawned on her that, though Chan may have told Felix to let the others get some cookies whenever they want, Felix must have kept it a secret. He loved Yoonmi’s cookies, so it was no surprise.

“He never told us!”

“Come on, let’s go eat.”

The two friends found themselves in the JYP cafeteria, food paid for with Jisung’s credits. He had a whole set of food in his tray, which was quite a drastic difference from her single bowl of salad. He frowned when he saw her tray.

“Just a salad?”

She shrugged. “We’re in the middle of promotions, so I’m dieting.”

“Nope,” he placed a plate of pasta on her tray and some extra side dishes, “your boyfriend and members are gonna kill me if I don’t feed you. Our food’s all organic, anyway. It’ll be fine. We’re sharing side dishes, by the way.”

She rolled her eyes but followed him to an empty table. They settled across from each other and began digging in. The conversation carried smoothly, as if they didn’t have a solid four or four months of not seeing each other. It switched from the food to normal catching up to preparations.

“Your comeback’s really good, by the way,” Jisung noted. “I listened to the whole album. Really good. You worked on lyrics, too!”

“Just a bit,” her tone was humble as she moved the salad around on her plate. “I thought it was fitting since it’s our first full album, so I did my best. Sorry for bothering you for help, by the way. I know you’re pretty busy with Kingdom.”

“Please,” he shook his head, “I needed the distraction. We were so caught up on preparing for the show, so I needed to forget it just a little.”

“How are you guys, by the way? I’ve seen your past few performances.” A teasing smirk made its way up to her face while she looked up from her food to meet his eyes. “I liked your cover of I’ll Be Your Man. Very impressive high notes there, mister main rapper. Very desperate.”

Jisung snorted and tossed a little sausage from their side dishes onto her plate. “Shut up, you know the performance is supposed to seem desperate.”

“What’s coming up? The collaboration stage, right?” She took a moment to recall the last episode’s ending. “It’s a shame that you guys aren’t working with The Boyz. You, Eric, and Sunwoo rapping together would have been cool.”

“You’re friends with Sunwoo?”

“We’ve met, but you already know I talk to English line the most.” She jolted up straight upon remembering something, startling Jisung into hitting his leg against the table. The boy curled in on himself a little, making her laugh. “Sorry about that. Did you hear? Changmin oppa invited me to co-host your sports day!”

That was the reason why she had been in a meeting the day before right after their schedules. She didn’t expect that she’d be brought straight to the company right after her schedules with NCT Dream, much less did she expect that she’d be meeting with a few higher ups and some Mnet staff alongside her senior for a cameo.

Jisung raised an eyebrow at her. “What? You’re coming to watch our sports day?”

“Co-host, but yeah.”

“This is gonna be so funny,” he laughed. “You know that, even if you have a boyfriend now, Juyeon hyung has an idol crush on you, right?”

“Stop!” Her hand went to her forehead in embarrassment. “Eric always mentions it whenever we talk, I swear.”

The smirk on her friend’s face sent a chill down her spine. “But there’s also Seonghwa hyung and Chani… Oh my god, man! What is it with you and these older guys, huh?”

“One more word out of your mouth, Han Jisung, and I’m telling Chan oppa that you had a crush on Yoonmi.”

Ah, yes. This short-lived crush her friend had on her other friend which amused her to no end every time he’d talk to her about how Yoonmi’s lyrics hit different, how her on stage persona is captivating, how she’s adorable in BTS content, or how her rap is unmatched by any other girl idols. Jisung, like many other fourth generation idols (and some from third generation) had fallen for the international sweetheart, and she made sure to tease him about it whenever given the chance.

Jisung groaned, “Of course I tease you about other’s having a crush on you, but you can’t tease me about people liking me.”

“Hey, if it means anything,” she began, “I used to like you the slightest bit back in late 2019 when we did those collab stages. Nothing much, it died as soon as it started, so don’t get too cocky.”

The slightly astonished look on her friends face made her remind him that it was a momentary thing rather than a prolonged crush. This, of course, didn’t stop Jisung from poking fun at her.

“Aye, I’m so telling your boyfriend,” Jisung laughed.

She gave him a pointed look. “Nothing is kept a secret in our group, and he’s in the same unit as one of the people most overprotective of me.”

The 00-liner wisely kept his mouth shut, making her laugh. A silence passed between the two before they silently agreed on not speaking about these infatuations ever again. She finished the last of her food before rummaging around her bag and pulling out a small bottle. It was something she didn’t use often, but prefered whenever she didn’t have to promote. Black nail polish.

“I brought this, by the way,” she mentioned as her phone started ringing. “I don’t know why you asked for it, but here you go.”

“Nice,” he took the bottle, “now answer your phone while I finish my food.”

The familiar face on her screen brought a subconscious smile to her face the moment she got her phone out of her pocket. It was her none other than her boyfriend, Liu Yangyang. She chuckled a little before answering the phone.

“Hey, Schnucki. I’m with Hannie right now. Jisung, say hi.”

She brought the phone closer to Jisung’s face, where he awkwardly greeted the boy on the other end of the phone. The awkwardness made her laugh and take it back. Maybe she should have waited until after he swallowed before making him say hi.

“Me again!”

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Yangyang asked her with the slightest hint of concern in his voice. “Renjun told me you skipped out on the food your manager got you guys on the way home.”

“Hwang Injun, that snitch.” Her mumbling was easily caught by Jisung who snorted in amusement. She lightly smacked his arm from across the table then went back to her conversation. “I just ate dinner! JYP Entertainment’s special organic food is pretty filling, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” his voice sounded relieved. “How long are you gonna be there? Will you be back too late? You still have an early start tomorrow.”

She chuckled at her boyfriend’s questions. Ever since their jacket shoot, her schedule had been filled with preparations for NCT Dream’s comeback. Yangyang had been texting her good morning everyday without fail and constantly checking up on her to make sure she was still functioning properly somehow. For some reason, she found this endearing about him. He usually wouldn’t seem like that type of boyfriend, but he is.

“I’ll be here until Yoonmi finishes shopping for her future nephew and Yeonjun oppa comes back from dinner with the 99s. Hannie’s taking care of me, don’t worry.”

Jisung’s scoff from across the table made her send him a pointed look.

“Could you put me on speaker?”

“Hold on.”

One more warning look was sent towards Jisung as she placed the phone on the table. Jisung looked at her curiously before turning towards the phone.

“Yangyang?” he called out cautiously.

“Hi, Han,” Yangyang greeted. “I know we only spoke a few times, but I hope it’s not too much to ask to take care if Hannah?”

“No problem, bro,” the Stray Kids member nodded despite the fact that the WayV boy couldn’t see him. “We’ll just be here in the company, there’s a bunch of places to lounge in and a lot of food.”

There was a laugh from the other end of the phone. “Thanks for taking care of my pet fox.”

“Excuse me,” she interjected, making the two boys laugh, “I will sheer your hair off your head, you sheep.”

“Kidding! Anyway, Han, you’re Hannah’s friend, so I’m trusting her with you. As a friend, right?”

Jisung chuckled. “Of course. No need to worry.”

Hannah snatched up her phone and turned speaker off before the conversation could get any longer. “Is that it?”

“I’m at the dreamie dorm right now, so I’m expecting cuddles when you get back.”

A slight chuckle escaped her lips as she playfully rolled her eyes. “As long as you’re out of the dorms by 1:30am at the latest, okay?”

“Of course, babe.” The wink was evident in his voice, she didn’t even need to see him to know he did. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“See you later, Schnucki.”

With that, she hung up her phone and looked up to find Jisung looking at her with a teasing smile. “What?”

“You’re so whipped,” he drew out. “Honestly! The smile on your face says it all. It’s different from when you’re talking to your members or your other friends.”

“My smile?”

Looking back on it, Jeno did mention that there was something different in the way she looked at Yangyang. Donghyuck mentioned it as well while jokingly whining about her not giving him as sweet of a smile. Even Yoonmi told her that she sometimes catches Mark smiling at her the way Hannah smiles at Yangyang. Was it really that noticeable?

With a shake of her head, she picked up the black nail polish bottle once again. “What do you want to do with this?”

“Could you paint my nails?”

#hannah.hotsauce #nct 24th member #nct dream 8th member #nct female member #nct female addition #hannah #lee hannah

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lightsaberupmybutt · 4 years ago

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These Violent Delights - Darth Vader x FemReader

Yer idk why I wrote this either. I’m not ashamed though. And if you read this you’re just as bad as I am for writing it. No more said . Enjoy

Word Count: 1377

Warnings : explicit, brief mentions of smut but nothing too heavy, bit angsty, mentions of violence (but if you’re here then I’m sure that doesn’t put you off), kinda out of character (I've tried, but darth isn't a shagger, not canon anyway)

There was not a day that went by when you didn't consider yourself the stupidest bitch on the planet; scratch that the universe

You were aware that what you were doing was so dumb that even you couldn't reason it logically.

Its not like you didn't have options, theres plenty of suitors out there who would be more than happy to take you up on the offer of a night with you.

With this knowledge in mind, you still always fine yourself in the company of possibly the most dangerous man (if you can even call him that) to ever exist.

You wish you'd had the excuse of knowing him before he was vader, wish that you could say your attachment was purely based on your remnant memories from days gone by; but that just wasn't true. You only knew this being, Vader as him dark self - and that was enough for you to always come when he called.

To compare you attachment to a drug addiction felt cliche and incommodious; after all you didn't need his attention to survive, but you still craved it for your own enjoyment

it kept you up at night sometimes - you conscience weary with the fact that the rest of the body it was trapped in responded so positively to the touch of a murderer. These internal battles were common, besides, there wasn't anyone else you could exactly go to to ask advice from. The knowledge of your nightly escapades to Vader quarters was not exactly friendly gossip you could share with your friends, or even your family. It was a clear unspoken rule that secrets of this magnitude that involved the ex jedi were not something he encouraged to be passed around - not that you really wanted your family knowing. They would disown you, you would disown you. You understood just how vile your actions were

so why did they feel so fucking good?

You had been with men before, plenty of men. Maker, some of those men had the bodies of gods, so handsome that anyone would look upon them and believe they were too good for this world. But nothing compared, nothing even came close. It was one thing to enjoy someone, romantically or exclusively sexually , but it was another to be on the same level as someone. And you weren't quite sure why or how, but the only person you had ever felt that for was the destroyer of worlds.

You'd caught his eye while he and a small fleet of his stormtroopers were overseeing the work your village was putting into one of the many imperial excursions.

You'd love to say you hadn't been like everyone else and feared him instantly, that your backbone and feisty nature had meant you had always been able to feel no intimidation by his power - but that would be a big fat lie. The first time you saw him you genuinely thought you might poop your pants right there and then; all black cloak and metal. and then when you notice that he had noticed you too, when he asked your name, you personally accepted that maybe this day would be the day you died.

but it wasn't, and so it began

At first the imbalance of power was obvious, you feared him more than you had ever feared anything before. You'd heard the stories, you knew just how fast he could destroy you and how nobody would intervene even if they could if he decided this way your time to go.

He kept his distance in this time, while somehow also always letting you know he was around. you hear him, his breathing somewhere just beyond your viewpoint. A flash of black out the corner of your eye while you walked through the streets. Just teases of his existence. Just enough to peak your interest.

It worked, he never had to come to you. You came to him.

Because above all else, your curiosity outweighed everything else, even you survival instincts.

It was easy to be drawn in, you found. In everyones brain theres a soft spot for bad people who only act kind to you. That only show vulnerability to just you. You wanted to feel special, and he made you feel like the most protected person in the universe.

It was ironic really, that being that close to death is what made you feel most alive

It wasn't romantic, and you were completely comfortable with that. You had no doubt that you could never bring yourself to love someone who had the capability to do the things this man had done, and Vader, as far as you knew anyway, wasn't programmed with the capacity to love - a relic skill left when Anakin burned into the sand.

Sometimes though, there were flickers of those sorts of affections, like muscle memory. A gloved stroke of your cheek, a sweep across your lips to catch some of himself there, a hand in your hair with more gentle intent than usual. These incidents were at first incredibly fleeting, but the more comfortable you got together, or at least the more time passed since you had first met, he seemed to get more carefree with these displays.

Equally, although you had fully expected to feel the wrath of his power at that very first meeting; Vader had never used the force against you. Well, never without you asking him to anyway - choking with the force may be Vader favourite way to bring his enemies to their demise, but when you asked him to use it on you in the bedroom, he was relatively sure you had completely lost your mind. Be that as it may, it was hot as fuck. However he never took advantage; the power imbalance was certainly there, but Vader never used it against you without you asking him.

And thats how you knew just how comfortable you'd gotten; because you did ask. without even really completely letting yourself realise just what i meant, you asked him to show you just how powerful he was. You fucking liked it, liked that he could remove you from the face of the earth with a flick of his gloved wrist. You liked that he was the strongest being most people could imagine, liked that he was so notoriously bad.

Simply because he didn't; he kept you around. He even liked having you around, not that he would ever admit that to you, himself or anybody.

He never took his mask off, so it was easy for him to hide behind his outfit. He was changing though, maybe not dramatically, but enough for him to notice and be ashamed of.

He hadn't loved since Padme, with her it was obvious. She was beautiful, and smart, and everything Anakin Skywalker could have ever wanted. But he was no longer Anakin. There had never been another love, but you were something different entirely. You made him different . you made him weak. He lusted for you, craved you just as much if not more than you him. Anakin had always had a possessive streak, but Vader had a possessive nature. You were nothing to him, and then you were just fun to him, a body he could use, a rare someone who would let him inside of them with true interest in him, someone who could look past the suit and mask and burns. You belonged to him now, whether either of you wanted it or not, there was no one else for you.

“don't you ever let anyone touch you like this again” - he rarely spoke during sex, but when he did, his moderator was always stating claim to you. There really was no way to convince vader that you wouldn't stray, that you wouldn't suddenly wake up and realise that getting railed once very month on a dark space ship by someone who's face you had never seen wasn't enough for you. That you'd want to be with someone who you could kiss, or someone who didn't have such a dark smear on their title. But it didn't really matter, you knew you wouldn't leave, not when being bad felt so good with him.

#this is so self indulgent #i can only apologise #darth vader #anakin skywalker #darth vader x reader #darth vader x y/n #darth vader imagine #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #wtf is this #Star Wars

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cupcakemolotov · 4 years ago

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Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough.

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services.

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone.

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone.

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?”

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly.

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed.

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it.

She trusted him.

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy.

Enzo did not match lightly.

His magic liked the match.

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her.

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce.

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.”

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty.

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother.

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabbles #yeah #this sort of an interesting kind of crack

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