#not that much changed regarding my sexuality though

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #58

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, suggestive content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 20.1k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

The first issue happens shortly after your shenanigans with Jungkook.

Everything has been dealt with regarding your planned and first official vacation. Accommodation, flight tickets, even some of the activities all of you have agreed on. While you had enough time to dwell back into your working life (Jungkook free to some extent), each day has become closer to the D-day. 

You're not going to lie. You're excited to get out of Seoul – as much as you love the city – and experience some fun memories with your friends. With them, you will have the time of your lives. However, all plans come crashing down with a single message from Jimin. 

For some reason, his previous planned holiday is canceled by his boss himself. They're low on the employees and there's nothing else that could be done. 

“Maybe there will be a last minute change but I don't think that's gonna happen. I think I should cancel my flight tickets while I can.” Is what he said through a message. 

Taehyung was the one who took it the worst. To explain it correctly, Taehyung cursed the shit out of Jimin's boss and how devilish it is of him to ruin the holiday. Holiday without Jimin sounds sad and suddenly, none of it seems as exciting as you once thought. 

Perhaps the reason behind your sulky mood is the fact that you don't like when something is not going according to plans. Or more like – you're excited about something, already imagining and having a certain vision of things when it suddenly gets ruined. Funnily enough, Jimin is the one who takes it the best. He laughed and joked about it, though he surely does feel a little upset by the sudden changes. 

Nobody wants their summer holiday to get taken away, especially when he has to be working instead. Jimin insists all of you should go regardless of his absence when the idea of trying to get another date comes to the surface. Though, that's even trickier when three people have to change their already confirmed and planned holidays. There are your co-workers who have scheduled free days too. To say it shortly – it's not easy at all and would bring more trouble than good. 

Even Jungkook who's his own boss has scheduled photoshoots and overall work. He could possibly cancel it, but that would bring no good to his name and business. Plus, he would lose money obviously. 

Jimin stays positive and prays that maybe someone from their team will come to the rescue. 

It's a little more than two weeks before your planned vacation. You're in the middle of folding your freshly washed and dried clothes while Jungkook's humming can be heard in the background. You video-chat him, giving him advice on what clothes to give away to charity. Something he has been doing for a while now. 

Taehyung would tell him to sell everything and Jimin would tell him to give away everything. You, on the contrary, can reason with him. The piece of clothing he hasn't worn for the last year is good to go, because he will probably never wear it again. It's why you help him with that instead of any of the guys. 

After that is done, you just casually chat which to be honest, you're glad for. It's not like you haven't done that in a long time, but it feels way more calm than anything you've done for the past few months. It's a nice change compared to your wild thoughts. You just can't bring yourself to dwell on it – because you're going to lose it. 

“Oh found this one just now,” Jungkook says, cutting off your thoughts which is probably for the best. 

You look at him, his phone propped on his kitchen counter and from the looks of it, you can just imagine the device leaned against his bowl of fruit. He stands with a leather jacket in his arms, showing it off so you could see it better. Little does he know, that article of clothing is not one to be forgotten. 

“What do you think?”

“You want to give it away?” you almost gasp, hands on your hips with a mouth agape.

“Why not?”

“Because it's the legendary jacket, you can't just give it away.” you protest, seeing him blink at you a few times before he bursts out into the cutest fit of laughter.

Teeth on display, nose scrunched along with the ends of his eyes, he laughs. “Legendary jacket? What are you even talking about?”

You pout, rolling your eyes at him.

“It's just a regular leather jacket. Everyone's got one of these.”

“That might be true,” you start, Jungkook's eyes wide as he teasingly nods, motioning that he's listening. “But it looks way too good. Plus, you wear it often, right?”

God, you hope he does. Now is not the time to thirst over him and how fucking good he looks in that stupid jacket, but well… that's exactly what's happening right now.

“I haven't worn it in a while, it's too hot for it.”

“See? You will wear it once it's colder. Keep it.”

Jungkook stares at the jacket for a moment, his eyes glinting and watching the screen where you're currently finishing up folding your clothes. With a tiny smirk, he places the jacket to the side and leans against the counter. His forearms rest on it, head cocking to the side.

“I can't believe Jimin is not going with us.” Jungkook admits, mouth curling into a displaying frown which you immediately mirror without even looking at him.

Sitting on the couch with your phone in your hand, you sigh disappointedly. “Don't even mention it. I'm so upset over that. Honestly, what a stupid boss.”

“It happens here a lot though.”

“I know,” you whine, “But still. It ruined our plans and I feel so bad for him. We're gonna have fun and he will have to stay here and work. It won't be a proper vacation without him there. It was supposed to be all of us.”

“Jimin wants us to have fun.” he responds with a soft tone, thinking of the stupid situation himself. 

“It's not gonna be it when he's not there.”

“It fucking sucks,” Jungkook sighs. “Maybe he'll be able to join us last minute.”

“I doubt it,” you frown, Jungkook snickering at your pessimistic self as you give him a glare, knowing exactly why he's laughing. “He would have to get his flight tickets at the last minute, plus his accommodation is already canceled. What if the place we'll stay at won't have any free space?”

“There's a couch, he could sleep there.” he shrugs.

“Nah, flight tickets would be a problem. It's vacation season.”

“Or maybe he will be glad to spend some time with his girlfriend.”

You frown, “Not wanting to pull out Taehyung but he's with her almost all the time.”

“And how would you know that?” Jungkook chuckles.

“Well, when he's not working or with us, he's obviously with her.”

Jungkook keeps grinning, not really having any argument because he knows you're right.

“You sound like Taehyung.” he teases.

“Oh fuck off!” You both laugh. “It's true though.”

“It is. Can you blame him?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I had a girlfriend I would wanna be with her too.”

You frown at that again, staring at Jungkook on your screen who seems to shrug innocently. “But Jimin was excited to go to Hawaii.”

“Yes,” he says slowly, “I'm just saying that even if he's not going, he would spend time with his girlfriend and he would enjoy it either way. So no need to be too sad for him. He himself isn't too upset with it.”

“Men,” you sigh, “You all think of pussies.”

“Y/N!” Jungkook almost chokes at your honesty.

“What? Just sayin',” you mutter, “This is important, Kook.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I was just trying to make you not feel so bad for him. He will be fine. He's a big boy.”

You snicker, “It's a bummer.”

“I know, but I promise you… we will have a good time. Even if it's just three of us.”

“Yeah, I know that–” you mutter, pouting. “Just will miss Jimin there.”

“Speaking of the devil, he's calling me.” Jungkook says, eyes attached to the top of his screen. “I will just call him after this.”

You cackle. 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Come on now,” he groans, “It's impolite to end a call just like that.”

“Just admit you love talking to me.”

He rolls his eyes, laughing as he keeps grinning at the screen. Your own mouth turning upwards as something within your chest tickles. “I do.” 

He admits and that something bursts. You freaking look away with a smile, almost too close to giggling loudly like a freaking teenager. You stop yourself, clearing your throat. 

“You should've seen your face,” he suddenly bursts out laughing. “What was that? Do I make you flustered, Y/L/N?”

“You wish, Jeon.” you spit jokingly right away, your senses acting automatically. 

He suddenly sneezes, loudly and forcingly, your head tilting to the side as he lifts up his gaze, eyes mischievous as a teasing grin makes it onto his face again. “I'm sorry, I'm allergic to your bullshit.”

You gasp loudly, “You piece of shit. I'll get you back for that, Jeon.”

“Yeah, wonder how,” he teases cheekily, “Why's Jimin still calling me? Wait hold on–”

He grabs his phone, tapping something there as you get another angle of his face.

“This angle is funny. Too bad I can't see your double-chin. This could be my payback.” you joke, Jungkook clearly too immersed in reading something to pay you his full attention.

You purse your lips. “Hello? I'm trying to be funny here.”

His eyes widen, your smile dropping.

“Kook?”

“Holy shit,”

“What?”

“Fuck, fuck,” He stands up, almost dropping his phone. “Jimin just texted me–Taehyung is in the hospital.”

“What?!” You yell, standing up abruptly as you clutch the phone in your hands. “Jungkook, talk to me! What happened?”

“I literally don't know!” he exclaims. “Jimin just got the call and tried to reach us.”

“Us? He didn't call me!” you panic, checking your notifications to see them empty. Fuck. You would not forgive yourself if you somehow ignored his messages, even though it wouldn't be entirely your fault.

“Fuck, we need to get there. He's going there right now.”

“Is it serious?” you ask, voice shaking at the thought of Taehyung and something happening to him. He's in a hospital which means it's something serious. 

Jungkook stops pacing, hearing the shakiness in your voice. Bringing the phone closer to his face, he watches you. “I'll come get you, alright?”

You nibble on your nails, nodding still staring ahead of you. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook calls out to you. “He's gonna be okay, alright?”

“You don't know that.” you scoff.

“We don't know any details, so let's not jump into conclusions, okay? Just wait there, alright? I will drive to your place right now.”

“Where would I go?” you exclaim, clearly stressed which Jungkook doesn't blame you for. Instead of calling you out for your attitude, he knows you're worried and stressed.

“Just don't drive anywhere.”

“I won't.” you promise, voice softening. 

“I will call you once I'm there. Don't go outside, it's too late.”

“Jungkook, stop worrying so much.” 

He groans, grabbing his keys as the screen keeps glitching here and there how quickly he's moving. “It's too late. Wait inside.” 

“Okay, sir.” you mutter dryly, Jungkook stopping just to glare at you. 

“Stop messing around. I am not.”

“Jesus, sorry.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Keep your pretty ass in your home. I'll call you when I get there.”

“Then get your pretty ass here, Jeon.” you roll your eyes to give back at him.

He sighs, closing his front door with a loud thud. The connection glitches for a second, his internet changing to his mobile data as he waits for the elevator. “Fuck it.” You hear him muttering, running for the stairs.

You keep pacing in your living room, biting off your nails while not having Taehyung beside you to scold you for doing so. Your heart clenches and worry overcomes you once again. It's Jungkook's car door closing that brings your attention back, watching him put his phone into the phone holder. 

“Kook?” 

“Hm?” he says, putting on his seatbelt as he turns on the engine. 

“Drive safely, okay?”

“I will,” he promises, but you keep giving him the same desperate look. “I promise.”

You smile nervously, ending the call just to be met with a spam of messages from Jimin. 

Jungkook comes shortly after, just enough for you to check all the lights and gas before you leave. He definitely drove over the speed limit but you don't dare to scold him once he calls you. You spot the familiar Mercedes slowing down the parking lot just as your phone rings. Just like he wanted, you stayed inside. Knowing there's a low chance of something happening to you – considering this neighborhood is pretty much safe and you've walked when it was way later than now  – you also know he cares about your safety, so you didn't feel like disobeying his direct orders. Or more like a plea that would end up in a frustrating scolding if you didn't listen to him. 

Once you get inside the car, you buckle your seatbelt and Jungkook speeds out of the parking lot, rushing to the hospital where Jimin texted him details.

“Jimin is there.”

“What happened? Did he tell you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, checking on you for a split second before his eyes are back on the road. “No, he's still waiting.”

Luckily, the hospital where Taehyung's at is not that far away and it takes you approximately around fifteen minutes to get there, with all the red lights you had to stop at.

You've never had to go to a hospital here because something happened to one of your friends. To go through this and watch how Jungkook says Taehyung's name at the reception, trying to get any information doesn't sit with you well. You're full of nerves, sticking to Jungkook's side as he handles everything by himself. The nurse questions your relation to Taehyung but luckily, has no problem giving you directions of where to find your friend. 

“Couldn't she tell us if he's alive?” you grumble beside Jungkook as he tries to follow her directions from before. 

Jungkook chuckles, “If he wasn't, she wouldn't just tell us where to find him.”

Sighing, you follow Jungkook the entire time. “Have you been here before?” you question him in the elevator, a suspicious, curious look glinting in your eyes where worry was found before. 

Jungkook gives you a side-glance, sighing before looking ahead. “I have.”

When he doesn't elaborate and is silent, you lean yourself forward to catch his eyes. “When?”

He straightens his posture.

“It's just because you kinda know your way around here.”

You don't remember him mentioning being hospitalized here, nor coming here for examinations. There's a chance you simply don't know about that. There might be things you haven't told each other, it's practically impossible knowing everything about each other. But you feel if it came to this topic, you would know about it. 

But you don't. 

“I was here with Kiko.”

You halt, a taken back expression taking over your face.

“And because of Kiko.” He adds, clearing his throat at the mention of his ex. Almost as if you would bite off his head just for mentioning her name. 

You chuckle at that. “Oh, I didn't know that.”

“Yeah, didn't think of mentioning it before.” he mutters.

“Was she hospitalized here?”

“Do you really wanna know or you're just nosy?” he teases, wiggling his brow at you as you roll your eyes.

“Just answer, Jeon.”

“My curious delicate flower,” he continues to tease, ruffling your hair in the process as you elbow him in the ribs. “She had something with her shoulder once, she went here for rehabilitation.”

“Oh,” you let out slowly. “Was she fine after that?”

Feeling a burn of someone's gaze, you see Jungkook side-eyeing you. “Don't pretend like you care.” he chuckles, shaking his head at you as you smack your lips at him in annoyance.

“I wanna know! Stop making it seem like I'm a heartless monster!” 

“I wouldn't dare.” he jokes, continuing to shake his head as you sigh in irritation at your very annoying friend. 

“I advise you that.”

He snickers, “Damn, so scary.”

“Jungkook, seriously. I'm gonna kick you in the balls if you're gonna continue this.” you warn him, hearing him laugh as he leans against the elevator's wall. 

You glance at him, annoyed expression as his brow cockily lifts up. 

“Not the balls, damn, you monster.”

“Keep talking and you'll see the real monster.” you mutter, your bickering interrupted by the elevator's ring, informing you of your floor. 

Walking out of there, all the fun disappears as soon as you see and smell the sterile surroundings again, along with sick patients of all sorts which truly breaks your heart. You understand why someone hates hospitals so much. You never truly belong to that people, never really had that awful experience. Everyone you lost in the family had left at their peaceful homes. You never had to say goodbye to anyone here. 

Although, you do remember visiting your father's mother – your dear grandmother  – when you were a kid. Unfortunately, she passed away when you were around six. The only thing that bothers you to this day is that you don't have many memories with her. Since you were a little kid, you only remember very little. Plus, there are days when you wished she was still here. To talk about the craziness you've experienced in both families. To help her and show her your gratitude for raising your dad and his four siblings, when she was all alone. She was truly an inspiration for you. 

Your dad says you get a lot from her. You'll never forget a conversation you had with him about her. 

“You remind me of her sometimes. She had a good heart like you have.”

That's what he told you when you were around eighteen. Your dad is not a sentimental person. He doesn't usually say many heart-warming things, so to hear him saying that just made you emotional. Thinking of it now, it still does in a way.

“Sorry, we are here looking for our friend? They told us at the reception he's on this floor. Kim Taehyung?” Jungkook stops one of the nurses, surprisingly stopping a male who kindly shows you the way to see your friend. 

Jungkook looks behind, making sure you're there as he gives you an encouraging smile. You wonder if he's scared as fuck of what you're about to see as well. Is he pretending to be brave and having his shit together because of you? Are you preaching? 

Jungkook is the most caring friend. You don't believe he's not worried as much as you are. 

“Ready?” he asks, tilting his head toward the direction the nurse sent you. 

Naturally, like your body calls for his proximity and safety, you wrap your arms around his forearm, clutching to his side as you give him a nod. He leads you to one of the rooms, both of you cautiously peeking inside as the scene in front of you makes you both gasp loudly, catching everyone's attention in the room. 

There he is. 

If someone told you you will see Kim Taehyung laying in a hospital bed, you would laugh him off for some reason. All of you would. So to not only see him lying there but having a huge cast on his leg, his face pale and hair unkempt, you and Jungkook gulp at the sight. 

Jimin stands there, arms crossed over his chest as his hands rub his lips nervously. A woman stands next to him, a little behind him, noticing your and Jungkook's presence immediately. 

That has to be her.

But before any of you can pay her attention, Taehyung steals it without even knowing as he groans. 

“What the hell happened?” You almost shriek as a panicked mother, tearing yourself off Jungkook's side as you rush to Taehyung's side, Jungkook following you right after.

Both of you having a concerned look, Taehyung takes a minute to recognize you. You make a grimace, you and Jungkook giving Jimin a stare as he goes to say something, but he's interrupted by the patient himself. 

“You guys are here?” He looks shocked, making sure it's really you as he squints his eyes at you both.

“Of course we are–what happened, Tae?”

“Ah, don't even ask! That shit is so fucking embarrassing!” he dramatically sighs, slapping his palm over his forehead as he disappointedly shakes his head at himself.

“Can he just tells us what the fuck happened to him?” Jungkook mutters under his breath, causing you to elbow him like before.

Jimin clears his throat, “He was at the gym and accidentally dropped one of the dumbbells on his feet.”

“Jimin-ah!”

“Man they asked!” Jimin exclaims, trying to keep calm. 

“You guys came here because of me?” Taehyung pouts, changing the topic as you and Jungkook stare at him completely dumbfounded. What is wrong with him?

“Of course we did,” you assure him. “We would be here sooner, but Jimin had to call us. Why didn't you call us too?” you frown.

“Actually, the nurse called me. Taehyung gave them my number.”

“Well, that's great.” you mutter.

“Well, I'm sorry!” Taehyung mocks you, slapping his arms against the fluffy duvet he has thrown over one side of his body. “How could I know if you guys are not fucking somewhere behind our backs?”

“We don't do that!” Jungkook reacts.

The room is filled with craziness. 

Jimin sighs, deadpanning at his friend. You and Jungkook loudly gasp, your hand over your fast beating heart. 

The room is silent after that, Jimin's eyes directed somewhere behind you and Jungkook. You both turn around to see a nurse coming in, an awkward smile attached on her lips as she holds the clipboard with her. 

“We had to give him some painkillers, he was close to crushing his toes. He's a little drugged by now.” she informs you, perhaps trying to make you less embarrassed because of your friend. 

“I will come back and fill you with more information.” She sets up the clipboard on his bed, everyone bowing to her as she reciprocates it before walking away. 

“Ignore him, he's drugged.” Jimin apologizes to the female beside him, her eyes eyeing you and Jungkook as you shift on your spot. 

“Yeah, he's just babbling nonsense.” 

Taehyung scoffs, luckily keeping his mouth shut about this topic. “Yeah, by the way guys, Jimin brought his girlfriend. They were on a date when his friend was dying.”

“You weren't dying, Taehyung.” Jimin corrects him, giving him a stern look as the younger friend puts his lips into a thin line, frowning. “Ah, guys. This is Rin. Wanted to introduce you to her under different circumstances but well, babe–” 

Taehyung gags in the distance. “Knowing you, you would've kept her secret for another year.”

“This is Y/N and Jungkook. My friends.” Jimin grits through his teeth, giving a forced smile to his blonde girl. 

“It's nice to meet you. Jimin talked about you a lot.”

“Really? Because he really didn't–”

You kick Taehyung's mattress, ignoring his nasty glare as you both bow at each other. 

“Nice meeting you too, Rin. Welcome to the craziness.” Jungkook chuckles, “Jimin is a great guy. Hope this didn't traumatize you.”

She giggles, Jimin laughing nervously while you watch Taehyung who sulks in his spot. “No. It didn't.” she assures Jimin as she cuddles up to him. 

“Tae, how are you feeling?” you ask, focusing your attention on your sulking friend. 

You sit on the edge of his bed, brushing a few strands off his hair.

“Embarassed and like a fucking idiot,” he mutters. “I got so much attention at the gym. Fuck, I am used to attention but not that kind.”

“The most important thing is that you are okay, Taehyung.” Jungkook butts in, trying to sound gentle as he eyes his friend's new cast. 

Taehyung scoffs, “Does this seem fine to you?”

“I meant it that you're alive. You'll have this cast for a few months but you will be fine. You're lucky nothing worse happened to you.” Jungkook explains. 

“Fuck, I feel high,” he sighs, dropping his head on the pillow as he stares at the ceiling. He gulps, whining. “What about Hawaii? Fucking hell. I can't go.”

The realization hits all of you, yours and Jungkook's eyes meeting as you pout. 

“We can go next year.” Jungkook tries but you know it will only do so little. 

“We will cancel it too. There's no point in going when both of you don't go.” you tell him, Taehyung frowning as Jimin gives you an empathic smile. 

“No, you guys have to go.” Taehyung says, your eyes lifting up in surprise. But before you can say something, mouth already opening, he continues. “Everything's paid for. Jimin barely got the money back for flight tickets, I don't think I will get mine. It's too close to date.”

“Tae is right,” Jimin agrees, “You can still enjoy it without us.”

“I would hate myself if you didn't go there because of my clumsiness,” Taehyung admits, frowning. “Y/N you were so excited to see Hawaii.”

You stare, pouting as your eyes get teary for some reason. The entire situation is shitty as fuck and Taehyung's pale face is not helping. 

“You have to go.”

“I'm sure accommodation can be arranged just for the two of you. It's worth a shot.” Jimin says.

“We could try but I don't know…” Jungkook groans, sighing in disappointment at the fucked up situation. “We'll talk about it later. You're more important now, Tae. What can we do for you?” 

You nod, listening to Taehyung who sighs, cracking his neck. “I would die for McDonald's right now.”

Snorting, you shake your head at your friend. 

“You shouldn't eat right now, Tae. You have a good amount of meds inside you. It would probably make you sick.” Jimin reminds him. 

“We should just wait for the nurse to give us more information. Then we can figure it out from there.” you say, Jimin and Jungkook nodding in agreement. 

“This fucking sucks.” 

You make yourself comfortable on Taehyung's current bed, humming. “Tell me something about it.”

A few minutes later, a male in his mid-thirties (you're guessing) comes in. Wearing a white coat, you almost forgot how handsome some doctors can look, he eyes everyone in the room – mostly surprised to see so many people but then none of you are family members. He does question it but doesn't send you away. 

“...fortunately, Mr. Kim, your accident hasn't permanently damaged any of your nerves or bones. You'll have to wear a cast for a couple of weeks until it's healed, and after that you will need to be careful. But we'll take it from there and discuss further recovery steps.”

Taehyung looks like he's five seconds from dozing off or as if he could care less, you're trying to hold back your laugh while Jimin and Jungkook are the responsible ones. They keep nodding and looking seriously at the doctor using terms you've never heard before. You're sure none of them have and the fact they act like they do makes you want to laugh. Rin stays behind, sitting on the chair next to a window. You get a feeling she might feel not unwelcomed, but definitely out of her comfort zone. 

She sees four friends sticking together, three of them that she hasn't seen before. Honestly, it's not weird to see a woman next to Jimin. It is weird to see the affection they have going on, even though so far it has been pretty low-key. 

As the doctor finishes and informs Taehyung he's able to go home after they run some tests on him, he gives you a shortly lasting look. You smile, looking away in shyness as you're met with Jungkook's side-eyed frown. He has done that a lot today, you think.

You just innocently shrug, both of your attentions turned to Taehyung who starts to complain all over again. 

“You guys should go. You were on a date, right? Me and Kook will take care of him.” you tell Jimin, feeling bad not because they had to cut off their date, but you feel bad toward Rin. 

She probably wants to be with her boyfriend, it has probably been too many events for her tonight. You could sympathize with her and imagine what it feels like for her. Besides, there are three of you here. There's no need for all of you to be here. Taehyung will be fine. 

Someone just has to wait with him for more tests and results, so he's really safe to go home. Plus, he needs to be driven home as his ride here was an ambulance – something he's still complaining about how awkward it was when it arrived in front of the gym. 

“Yeah, go. They will take care of me.” Taehyung mutters like the child he can be, met with yet another glare from you. 

Jungkook tries not to laugh while Jimin frowns. “No. We could wait here and drive him to my place.” Jimin argues, turning to Rin. “You don't mind, right?”

“Fucking hell,” Taehyung whispers under his breath. “Why are you asking her? Just go and have your date.” He rolls his eyes at Jimin who clenches his jaw.

“I don't mind.” Rin tells him silently, assuring him.

“Somebody's gonna have to take care of your ass, Taehyung-ah. You can't be alone at home right now.”

“I'm not a child.”

“Sometimes you act like it.”

“Okay,” you butt in, standing up. “It's too late to be arguing in a freaking hospital. So get it together, both of you–” You're met with a glare from both of them. “Jimin wants to be here for you, so don't be childish Taehyung. They can have a date another time.”

“What she means to say is–” Jungkook starts, standing behind you. “We're all willing to stay here and help.”

Jimin and Rin have a silent conversation as Taehyung purses his lips and closes his eyes, ignoring his surroundings. Deep down, you know he wants Jimin to be here for him. He's just childish because Jimin is dating now and even though Rin doesn't seem to be a bad girl, it's different now. Suddenly, there's another person in his life and in their friendship as well. It awfully reminds you of the situation you had with Jungkook. 

It's still slightly different but similar in many ways. You know how Taehyung feels. The difference is that Taehyung also knows shit about relationships. He can't understand why Jimin, the guy who used to fuck purely for fun and enjoyment, is now dating someone. 

“Guys, could you drop off Rin at her house? She lives nearby, so it's not too far away.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” Jungkook responds. 

“Come on, it's late. We should all go to sleep. They can handle it from there,” you say, motioning for Rin to join you. “Don't worry, we're friendly and don't bite.” 

She laughs, some of her nervosity dropping.

“Yeah, they're too into each other to care about anyone else.” Taehyung comments.

“Y'know what Taehyung? If you don't want your other leg in a cast, you better shut up.” you warn him, feeling Jungkook's hand on your lower back as he shakes his head, silently telling you it's not worth it as an amused smile plays on his lips. 

“Which one?” Taehyung asks cheekily, having the time of his life when he watches your realization into disgust.

“Jesus, man. You should sleep it off.”

“That's not gonna help. This is Taehyung we're talking about.” you murmur to Jungkook.

Taehyung is about to say another nonsense, stopped by Jimin's palm as he gives him a warning stare before he walks up to you and Jungkook.

“Guys, please do not interrogate her. Okay?” Jimin pleas, sounding nervous as you and Jungkook share a knowing look. “No, please. Don't look at each other like that.” 

Little does he know it wasn't because of what he thinks it is, that you will go against his wishes, but it's the cuteness of how he doesn't want to ruin anything between them. You've never had a chance to see him like this. 

“Don't worry, we're gonna be on our best behavior.” Jungkook jokes, causing Jimin to whine but there's no time to have such a silly conversation. 

Jimin turns to Rin, telling her something before they share a kiss. You're ready to squeal at the cuteness as Jungkook tries not to laugh at you, cheekily poking you in your side while Taehyung looks grumpy.

“I'll text you and see you tomorrow, okay?” You hear Jimin say just as you bid goodbye to Taehyung, who's already too sleepy. 

Jungkook pats the top of his head before you leave Jimin with him and part your ways. But not before you hear Jimin's silent scolding. “You see? This is exactly why I didn't want to–”

You and Jungkook try not to laugh on your way out of the room, sharing a look in the hallway as Rin silently follows you, probably wondering who the hell has she just met. 

“She's quiet.”

You break a silence by stating something both of you are thinking. Rin is not exactly communicative, kept it very casual and both, you and Jungkook, could get the hint of her not wanting to really talk. 

“She might've felt bad because of Taehyung.” Jungkook responds, a thoughtful frown making it on his face as he drives you through familiar streets that lead toward your home. 

During the slightly awkward drive to Rin's place, Jungkook tried to excuse Taehyung's behavior, thinking it's the main reason for Rin's distant behavior. It's not like she wasn't friendly or has done something out of place. She was just… quiet. She kept it simple, not engaging in any further topics. And regarding Taehyung, she just said it's okay and that was it. 

It was certainly none of you have expected. You tried to make the atmosphere lighter, forcing chuckles and grins for her own sake but she just didn't seem to care. You're not going to lie, that stung a little and you had to grit your teeth to prevent yourself from really asking her – What's up?

But then you realize, you have no idea how she's feeling. She met all three of you in the span of one hour and with Taehyung's insanity and even bolder mouth than ever, it has been a lot for her probably. 

It's not like the three of you are too much to handle, right? 

“You think so?”

Jungkook chuckles at your question, “Tae took it too far. Anyone would've felt uncomfortable.”

“Come on, he's on drugs–” you scoff out a chuckle as if that excuses him. “He wasn't fully himself.”

“He was pretty much Taehyung, what are you sayin'?” Jungkook laughs.

You smack your lips together, a laugh escaping past them as you gently nudge his arm. “You know what I mean–he would've behaved slightly differently if he wasn't in that state.”

“Hm, that could be true,” he mutters, driving with one hand as the other rubs his lips thoughtfully. “Maybe she's just shy, would explain a lot.”

“Maybe,” you hum, “Can you believe it though? Our Jimin has a girlfriend. Who would've thought?”

“Not me,” Jungkook jokes, quoting one of the famous sounds on TikTok which causes both of you to break into laughter. “I hope she's not terrified of us–or Tae.”

“There's nothing to be terrified of when it comes to us!” you exclaim, giggling when you see Jungkook's grimace of pursed lips and raised brows. “I don't know. I thought it would go differently when we would finally meet her. Not like this.”

“None of us expected it,” Jungkook says, “But it doesn't matter. All that matters is that Taehyung is okay.”

“Oh god, he's gonna be such a drama queen once they release him. A cast on his leg?”

Jungkook laughs, knowing exactly what you mean when it comes to Taehyung. “He's gotta get used to it. At least for a while.”

While a short silence follows, one thought is rooted inside your mind which causes you to nibble on your lips. “Kook,”

“Hm?”

“This means we're going alone to Hawaii?”

Jungkook sighs, thinking through his answer as you watch the side of his face and how street's signs and lights illuminate his features. “If you want to.”

He stops at the red light, a few cars stopping behind you as you stare out of the window to avoid his stare once he glances at you. You see him in the reflection. His eyes momentarily watch your form, perhaps trying to decipher what you're thinking before he looks back ahead, staring at the road instead. 

“This is not how it was meant to be.” you mutter.

For some odd reason, you feel bad for even saying it. It almost sounds like you don't want to go with Jungkook. It's not that at all. Sure, the thought scares the fuck out of you – but Jimin and Taehyung were supposed to be there. All four of you. Making new memories and doing something new, something precious for your just as precious friendship. 

“We don't have to go. We could try next year.”

“No,” you shake your head, “Everything's paid for. It was already trouble enough to deal with Jimin's reservations and now it's the same with Taehyung.”

“Listen,” Jungkook sighs, the engine roaring back to life as the red light changes to orange. By the time it's green, Jungkook puts the car into drive and speeds through the main road. “I know it's not ideal, but I don't want you to go if you don't feel like it.”

“It's not ideal but–” you stop yourself, groaning at your stupid way of explaining your feelings. “I made it sound as if I didn't wanna go with you…” you trail off, somehow starting to feel nervous which is stupid. 

Jungkook stays silent. You're not sure if it's because he wants to listen to you or because he silently agrees. You did make it sound like that. 

“I just–would it be wise?”

“Wise?” Jungkook frowns.

“Well–just the two of us.”

Jungkook stares ahead before he throws you a quick glance. It takes approximately five seconds for him to release a chuckle as he shakes his head while you're the one who stares in confusion now. 

“So that's what you're nervous about?”

You roll your eyes, not being able to say anything. It's partly why you're so unsure about this. The last time you and Jungkook stayed alone… things happened. And while you would like to believe you're strong willed, there's a part of you that fears the exact opposite. 

It's insane how Jungkook gets it without you actually having to say anything.

“What? You can't keep it in your pants, Y/L/N?”

It's the cocky tone that makes your mouth drop open, but that single sentence is enough to make you stutter and you literally fight to get proper words out. “You're the one bringing that up!”

But Jungkook laughs, completely ignoring your evident attempt of trying to argue with his statement. 

“I didn't even think about that.”

“Mhm, mhm.”

He bursts out laughing, ignoring the way you glaring at his side with a huffy face. “What else did you mean then?”

“None of your business, Jeon.” you mutter, arms crossed over your chest as you fight back a smile when you hear his bubbly laugh next to you. 

“Oh, we're back to Jeon?”

“You're the first one that started with surnames,” you point out, giving him a playful roll of your eyes before you sigh and relax in the seat. “I just meant… maybe it's stupid but–we all know how it ended the last time. This is a vacation, Jungkook. We're gonna be miles and miles away. It sounds–”

“Couple-y?” He finishes your thought. He shakes his head with a gentle smile. “It sounds like fun to me. I'm still me, Y/N.” It's the way his last sentence sounds so gentle and vulnerable that it makes you feel like an idiot for even bringing it up. 

He's still the same Jungkook you've known for years. With or without intimacy.

You just had to talk about Hawaii one way or another. 

“Yeah–I know it sounds like that but I don't overthink it that much. I just meant–fuck, I guess it's a big change from our plans and just us going is…”

“You're scared.” he says, pointing out the obvious that makes you dryly swallow. 

You mentally groan and slap yourself. “How am I supposed to enjoy it when you will be right there?”

���Ouch.”

“No, not like that!” you correct yourself, groaning loudly this time. “You'll be a distraction.”

Jungkook laughs at that, “Distraction?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, growing frustrated but mainly from yourself and the fact you're talking about this. It makes you slightly embarrassed but at the same time it's a relief that you can talk about this so openly with him. “With Jimin and Taehyung there–”

“I can keep it in my pants,” he informs you of something you've heard many times before. “The question is–”

You inhale shakily.

“Can you?”

You stare ahead, eyes wide and mouth agape, tongue softly grazing your teeth.

Well–fuck.

“Listen, just let me know how you decided.”

Jungkook says with a window opened as you stand next to the driver's side, shifting on your spot nervously. You haven't talked much after that. There was not much time since Jungkook drove here in five minutes. 

“I'm stupid for saying shit like that.”

Jungkook frowns, “Hey, you're not stupid. You're unsure and feel bad for the guys.”

It's not even about the temptation and the stupid break you came up with. It's the entire change of plans you've mentioned to him as well. You made it sound as if it was all about the two of you, but the truth is it feels bad to go there without Taehyung and Jimin. 

And that's exactly what you tell Jungkook as you confess your once said thoughts. This time you're more serious. 

“You heard them. They want us to go either way. Even when we don't think about the money and how's everything already paid for–you were excited to go there,”

He slides his hand off the steering wheel and places it on his lap instead. 

“We're going there to enjoy our vacation. It might not be as we planned it, but we could still have fun. And deep down, I know you really wanna go there.”

“I do,” you admit after a while. When you think about it, this is your opportunity to go. Although, going there alone with him makes you awfully nervous. It's like a huge test for the two of you, one you're not ready for. “You know the last time when we were alone–”

“Mhm,” he says, prompting you to continue.

“I don't wanna make it seem as if that's all I'm thinking about, or that's how I see you but I guess–”

God why is it so hard to put any words out?

“I know,” Jungkook says gently, seeing you struggling a little to properly explain the crazy train of your thoughts. “You wanted us to focus on our friendship. I know, Y/N.”

He's so gentle that you almost want to cry out and have him hug you. You're in a desperate need of a hug. But it's too late and you both had a long day. 

“You sure you don't wanna go upstairs?” 

Jungkook smirks and you groan. “Not like that, Jeon.”

“I feel like I'm gonna pass out the second I take a shower and lay in my bed,” he jokes instead, “You should go inside, it's getting colder.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at your surroundings. “I wanna go, Kook.”

Jungkook turns his head to look at you, immediately realizing what you're talking about. He doesn't say it but the question in his eyes is clear. You sure?

“Yeah, I made a big deal out of it,” You sigh. “But I really wanna go with you. It would be stupid for us not to go.”

“Okay, then. I'll have to make some calls because of Taehyung, hopefully he will be able to get his money back. At least for the accommodation. If you change your mind, just let me know.”

“I won't,” you assure him with a smile, “And Kook?”

“Yes?”

“It's stupid but… I don't think I've ever felt nervous about you before. The last time was when we first met. Or the first time we started hanging out.”

“I made you nervous?” He laughs.

“Mostly everyone makes me nervous when I first meet them,” you scowl at him as you explain. “We barely hung out after we–took a break or whatever we wanna call it.”

Jungkook snorts at the way you roll your eyes when you say it. 

“I make you nervous. I don't know how to deal with this information.”

“Jeon,” you grit through your teeth, “It's not you. It's more… the situation and all.”

He grins, biting his lower lip before he releases it and stares at the distant street lights. “There's no need to be nervous. No kissing. No sex. We're on a sex ban. Just two best friends in Hawaii.”

You groan his name and at the way he says it with an utmost grin. This man is not serious. 

“That's not what I truly meant but–you know what? Nevermind. Let's just end it here.”

Jungkook doesn't press any further, simply opting for a gentle grin and change of topic. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You catch yourself wishing he would say something else instead of your name.

And that's your cue to turn around before silently wishing him a goodnight, telling him to drive safe and send you a message once he's home. Perhaps it's for the better that he stayed in his car. 

He waits until you're inside of the building before he drives out of the parking lot, his silver car slowly fading out until it fully disappears. What doesn't disappear are the mixed and crazed feelings that make you question every single thing that has been said. 

One thing you know for sure.

This vacation will be one hell of a ride. 

One, you can't prepare yourself for. One, you're close to shitting your pants for.

Rolling your suitcase down the sidewalk, Jungkook offers to take it but you decline. He has his own suitcase and full hands, therefore all he receives is just an appreciative smile as you enter the airport. 

Namjoon was kind enough to take you and since your flight is early in the morning, he had the time to drive you here.

Sorting out your luggage and going through the security doesn't take too long and before you know it, you're seated in the airplane fighting for a window seat with Jungkook. He lets you have it, of course and slumps into the seat next to you. With a happy and slightly annoying smile, you make sure he sees it as he playfully rolls his eyes.

Since there are still passengers sitting and putting away their luggage, you do have a little time before taking off. You take that time to quickly video chat with Jimin and Taehyung. While Jimin's preparing for his work, Taehyung curses you out for waking him up. Though, there's a tiny smile that tells you that it's okay to go without them and enjoy it to the fullest. 

You share your earphones with Jungkook, so he can hear them too. 

“You guys–” Taehyung sighs, eyes slightly swollen with tiredness. “This sucks but enjoy it, alright? And send me pictures.”

“We will.”

“Yeah, Kook took his camera with him.”

“You and your camera,” Taehyung jokingly shakes his head. “I could've had such nice pictures.”

“You have… lots of them actually,” Jungkook snickers, “We will take some next time.”

“Be safe guys, I gotta run to work but text us when you land.” Jimin says, his screen blurry as he keeps moving.

“Will do.” you assure them. “I'm sorry you guys couldn't come.”

“Stop,” Taehyung cuts you off, giving you a grin that feels oddly comforting. “Have the biggest fucking fun. I'm stuck in bed, so maybe I will annoy you with my phone calls.”

“Great.” Jungkook mutters, causing you to nudge him as the four of you laugh.

“We're about to take off. I will call you, Tae. Don't worry.”

“I am not. What I worry about though, is the amount of times I could've gotten laid. Now I'm stuck here with this fucking cast on.”

“Dude, chill out.” Jimin laughs. 

So do you and Jungkook. Shortly after you all end the call, you and Jungkook snickering between each other at Taehyung's biggest issue. 

While the pilot welcomes everyone on board and informs them of the destination and other important information, you make yourself comfortable in your seat as you place your head on Jungkook's shoulder. 

Jungkook looks down at you, smiling as you catch his glance. “Ready?”

“Is there anything left for me other than to be ready?”

“Well, you could chicken out. The plane is not in the air yet.”

You smack his side, sitting up straight as you're met with the familiar sight of his stretched smile and white pearls. “Dumbass.”

“Love you too.”

You look away, making sure he sees the roll of your eyes before doing so. Though a small smile plays on your lips and as you take off, plane soon in the clouds, you use Jungkook as the softest and best smelling pillow.

The adrenaline and excitement of what's awaiting for you does not allow you to sleep. Yet you don't move an inch, finding comfort in the man sitting beside you. And when you ask him to play with your hair, he does it without any questions. 

“Oh my god.” 

Is the first thing you let out as soon as you get out of the airport and see the beauty around you. The weather is not too hot for you to not have any sunglasses or hat on. You shield your eyes with a palm outstretched above them, stopping in the tracks as Jungkook tries to get a taxi. 

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Jungkook says once he locks his phone and puts it into the pocket of his shorts. “The place we are staying at is even more beautiful.”

Jungkook has managed to make a compromise with the owner of the place you're staying at during the next seven days. Since it would be for the best if Jimin and Taehyung got their money back, they made a deal on swapping apartments. This way the owner could still make a profit while complying with you.

That alone made you a little bit calm because so far, everything is going well and smoothly. 

“Our car should be here in five.” Jungkook informs you and ushers you to go in a shadow.

You obey, feeling already as if you're melting.

“What's our plan for today?”

You haven't really slept during the flight. Jungkook has booked a business class, something you've scolded him for because that's definitely something you haven't paid for when you sent him the money for your flight ticket. There was no need for that eight hour flight, but you both definitely made a good use of it. You turned on a movie and made yourself comfortable while eating snacks. Who knew having a drink on a plane can be actually so relaxing and fun at the same time?

You sit on your suitcase, squinting your eyes at Jungkook who pulls a cap from his suitcase and puts it on your head. 

“We're gonna settle in and maybe we could check the outside?”

“Sounds good.” 

The car comes around the time Jungkook said it would, an older man with a straw hat on welcomes you and helps you with your things. You both thank him and get inside – luckily – with an air condition on.

While he drives and gives you a quick tour of the road you're driving on, he answers any curious and informative questions Jungkook asks him. You sit silently, smiling at the man whenever he jokes around as you stare out of the window, appreciating the nature around you. 

And at that moment you think;

It's a good thing you decided to go.

You've seen the photos of where you were supposed to be staying. All four of you. But since that has changed and the two of you couldn't go, there had to be some changes made. Jungkook informed you about that, so that's no news to you. It would be no use for you and him to share a place designed for four and more people. 

Surrounded by nature and sea air, there's a whole street of houses. It's so close to the sea that you can hear the waves in the distance and smell the salted water. Surely, the location and vacation houses are one of the wealthiest ones, and you just can't seem to pry your eyes at what's around you. 

You let Jungkook handle everything, after you've grabbed your luggage and bid goodbye to the driver. He talks to the owner, or the person who is in charge of the vacation house you'll be staying at. Shortly after, Jungkook is given keys and after waving off one last person, you finally get out of the sun and get inside. 

The first thing you notice is the chilly air hitting your heated bodies, the two of you sighing in delight before you both laugh. 

“AC is gonna be our best friend here.” you comment, squinting your eyes as they adjust to the lack of sun.

“Just don't overboost it, yeah? Or else you're gonna end up sick.”

You turn to Jungkook with raised brows, who simply just shrugs as he sets the luggage down. 

“Says the person who always has his AC turned on in the car.” you point out the obvious fact you both know.

“My immune system is much better than yours.” he points out back, showing you the tip of his tongue in a teasing manner as you shake your head, trying to hide a smile.

Bickering with someone who knows you well – or best even – is tough. 

Now that's done and the two of you don't elaborate to bicker any further, you take the time to look around. The place you've seen from pictures looked different, customized for more people. This house is just as spacious and even though you're standing in the entryway, you can easily tell more people would be able to fit in here.

“Are you sure we're at the right place?” you ask, catching Jungkook sweeping his hair off his forehead with head leaned back. Mentally sighing at the painfully attractive sight, you turn around and admire the place you're in instead.

That's a safer choice anyway.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” he asks instead, confirming that yes, you're at the right place. “Come on, let's see how it looks in person. The pictures were pretty great.”

You wonder why Jungkook hasn't shared them with you once he was able to switch houses. For sure, you haven't had that much time to talk about it. Everyone was busy with their jobs, you included, and then the accident with Taehyung happened which caused this entire planning to get rushed. Poor Jungkook took care of everything – but you know he's the best at it. 

When your mouth drops as you make it to the living room, you notice Jungkook grinning at the side of the entrance to the living room since there is no door. He wanted it to be a surprise.

One that appears to be more than successful.

“Kook–” you stop yourself. The entire side facing the sea is a window wall, giving the best view to the beach and sea. 

The floor is a darker wood, giving the room just the right balance of colors since there are a lot of light colors. The white couch is huge, in the shape of U, similar to what Jungkook owns at his place. There is a big beige carpet underneath the coffee table and couch, making it more cozy. A beautiful chandelier hangs down with transparent bulbs which is undoubtedly even more pretty at night. 

From up here, there's a porch with a pool and your legs itch to find out how big it is. 

It's a one floor beach house, a modern yet cozy one as Jungkook leads you to the right to show you the kitchen. It's a medium sized, smaller than the one he's got and you wonder why it's even here considering you'll get your food brought from the resort. 

The house ends from the left sounds but you move to the opposite side, jaw dropping at the beautiful bedroom. First of all, the interior is beyond any words and leaves you breathless. You've never seen something so beautiful in person. You could cry. And Jungkook's joyful grin is not helping at all.

The bed is not against any walls. It sits almost in the middle of the room. There's a panel behind it and further away, it leads you to a spacious bathroom. There are two sinks and a huge mirror – the room matched in turquoise and white colors.

“Jungkook–this is–how much did you spend on this?” you ask, turning to him with a hand on your hip with a frown. “This was definitely much more than you said.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“Jungkook, stop. I'm serious.”

“So am I,” he shrugs, sighing slightly. “I paid a little extra but it wasn't much.”

“I don't believe you.” You narrow your eyes at him as he cheekily grins and shrugs.

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“Jungkook!” 

However, your scolding is cut off by him simply walking away. The bed is facing the beach, the same view as you could see in the living room. Palms surround the house which create a little shade from the burning sun. 

There are dressers where you could store your clothes and stuff, but you don't pay any more attention to it as you follow Jungkook back to the entryway with a frown settled on your face. 

“Jungkook, I'm serious.”

“And so am I, Y/N,” he says simply, dragging your luggage to the living room. “I swear I didn't pay much. The owner wouldn't really have any other place for us. I wanted you to see this beach.”

You raise your brows at him, trying not to crack at the warm and sweet gesture.

“Plus I didn't want to stay anywhere else. So be mad at me all you want, but I'm happy to be here and from the looks of it, so are you.”

“Yes, but–”

“No, buts. Now get ready, we're leaving in twenty.”

You stammer over your words, mustering to ask only one word. “Where?”

“Out. Unless you wanna stay in and rest.”

He says, stopping as he turns around to look at you with raised brow, waiting for your response.

“Ah–no, I am fine with going out.”

“Good.”

And he leaves to the bedroom, “Oh–I hope you don't mind the one bedroom. They didn't have any houses with more rooms left. But I can sleep on the couch.” he calls out from there.

When you don't respond right away, his head pokes out of the corner with a awaiting gaze. 

“Why would I mind?” you breathe out, feeling like you just got awestruck. 

“Uhh–you want me to elaborate?”

You chuckle nervously, scratching your forearm before you shake yourself out of it and drop the expression. “Yah! You wanted to go out! So go get ready too!”

“Yes, m'am.” he salutes and disappears behind the wall of the bedroom. 

You stand there, sighing to yourself and at your fast beating heart. 

He's not going to make this easy, is he?

Happiness oozes out of you and as much as you were unsure about this vacation, you're glad the guys managed to talk you out of backing off. In the end, it was your decision to go without Jimin and Taehyung who are very much missed. Though, you're completely obvious to the fact it's going to be challenging. 

The heat and raging hormones are not making it any easier for you. 

You can control yourself. You can do that as long as there's no impulse from the other side.

This vacation might've not started like you planned, but it started wonderfully without your friends here. It's also a great chance of getting your friendship back where it was. While you're sure the history between you will always be there and it will never go away, you can try to go back and not get pushed to do something silly due to any sort of temptation. 

Because that's what Jeon Jungkook is.

Having him right here, next to you while you explore the Island is a great challenge itself. At first, you don't pay any attention to the mentioned temptation. You're fine. You talk, you joke and have a great time exploring the Island. You go out and eat in one of the restaurants, you have the best ice cream that is like the greatest present for your heated bodies. Taehyung and Jimin facetime with you during it, which ultimately makes you miss them more – especially when you show them around and see their pouty faces.

After that, you visit a few local shops – promising each other that you will come back and shop some souvenirs not just for you two but for your friends as well. The heat is too much to spend the rest of the day in a direct sun with no refreshments. And you didn't come here to just stay inside, so you both decide to go to the beach.

You do want to get the best of it since you're about to get your period in the halfway of this vacation. The timing sucks but you won't let it ruin anything.

Quickly going back to the house to change and pack things, you use the close proximity to the sea and settle on the beach there. You decide to walk a little further, closer to people and other tourists where different bars occur. There will be time to enjoy that privacy later. 

Although, being left with him alone is all the things you're scared of. 

Just focus on you, and your friendship.

“Is here okay?” Jungkook asks, stopping a few meters from the sea.

Looking around, it's a good spot. You're not completely surrounded by the tourists, more to the side where you can enjoy the shade and sun at the same time. There are faint sounds of music coming from the nearby bars, squeals of people's excitement and chatters around you. Beach waves are like a lullaby to your ears, confirming the reality of your presence here. 

There are kids as well, not too many but you spot a few in the distance as they beg their parents to go to the water already. 

“It's perfect.” Is all it takes for Jungkook to drop the beach blankets down. You help him to get it in the right place, making sure the wind doesn't mess it up. 

Air here is far better and you can't wait to get into the water to freshen up. 

“I'm gonna get us some drinks.” Jungkook announces once you settle in, pulling out a straw hat he bought while you were visiting different shops. It's the only thing he had to buy.

At first you weren't sure why, it's not exactly his style and you're sure he packed one of his caps. But then, he just puts it on you and shields the top of your head. You lean your head back to give him a look.

“You don't wanna get a heat stroke.” he shrugs, hands on his hips as he stares down at you.

See, it's very hard to keep it casual and think of Jungkook being an annoying friend. While you fully appreciate his caring, it's hard to focus in general. He has a stupid excuse of a button-up, so thin all his tattoos can be seen through the seen through material. It's not even the tattoos itself. 

He has it completely unbuttoned, showing off his pecs and abs as the thin material barely covers any of his skin. Jungkook has always been handsome, but you also never had to see your friend like… this. 

Iceland would've been a better option than Hawaii. 

So far though, you've been strong – even though it doesn't seem like it. While you're completely obvious to Jungkook's body and additional sight of his skin, you just don't allow your eyes to drop there. You keep them solely on Jungkook's face, hoping he doesn't see the inner turmoil you're going through.

“What are you? My dad?” you ask instead, poking the front of the straw hat with a lifted brow. 

Jungkook grins, “Don't want you to get sick on our first day.”

“You forgot to put sunscreen on me. And bring a swim wheel.” you comment grumpily. 

Something feels odd. It's not like you're truly annoyed by his caring. But looking at the familiarity of this conversation and overall situation, something sits on the tip of your tongue. It's not a word or anything that could be said. It's almost like a taste you can't quite describe. 

And when you see Jungkook who just laughs with his head leaned back, shrugging effortlessly at your comment, you realize that perhaps it's the fact that things really are like they were. At least right now. Jungkook treats you like he has before. He's caring, having that one particular look in his eyes you haven't seen in a while. 

Or perhaps you're just dramatic and you're seeing things. 

Being confused and frustrated at yourself more than ever, luckily Jungkook cuts you off from your never-ending thoughts before you can drive yourself crazy. 

“Ah, maybe I should've. We both know you're not too confident in water.”

You gasp, reaching for your sandal which you throw in his direction. He laughs, dodging it perfectly as despite your attack, he still reaches for it and puts it back to the spot, so it won't get lost. It's a detail but leaves you gulping.

“I'm pretty confident in kicking your ass.”

“Alright,” he laughs, not believing a word you're saying which makes you roll your eyes at him. “Whatever you say.”

He confidently backs away with a smirk, laughing when you flip him off and huff out in frustration once he turns around and walks to one of the bars. He slowly walks further and further away, yet you keep your eyes on him. 

You lay back, staring at the palm tree above you. The sunlight peeks through the leaves, creating patterns on your heated face and cheeks. 

When he comes back, you gulp down the fresh lemon and mint drink without properly tasting it. 

“...okay.” Jungkook says, watching you being halfway down the drink – it's alcohol free which doesn't make you look completely insane. “Wanna go for a swim?”

Putting down the drink, you open your mouth just as Jungkook decides to ditch the stupid excuse of a cover-up. He shrugs it off and tosses it onto the sand, brushing his fingers through his black hair. It has gotten long to the point where it sometimes gets into his eyes.

Standing up, you undo the small knot on your white cover-up that looks like a short dress. It slips down your arms and meets the blanket underneath your feet.

“Ready?” you ask, dropping down the silly straw hat Jungkook has gotten you. 

“Is this new?” Jungkook questions instead, pointing at your white bikini. It's a cute set. What makes it cute looking and pretty is the ruffled style, yet it's complimenting your body in the nicest way. 

“Yeah, I bought it for this trip specially.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, you don't like it?” you ask, looking down at yourself and adjusting your bra that's pushing up your breasts. Not in the overly too much type, enough to show them off though. 

In your defense, it didn't look like this on the model when you were ordering it. Luckily, you would say it fits perfectly. Jungkook's silence causes you to look up, almost finding the thought of him not liking it or thinking of it negatively scary. You mentally gag at yourself. Since when do you care what others think?

To be fair, sometimes you do – if those people are close to you and it also happens what it is about. But your choice of fashion matters only to you. You won't let anyone change the way you perceive yourself and your individual style. 

As much as you're independent in this entire matter, you would lie if you didn't say you don't like compliments. Also, there is something about Jungkook's compliments. You almost gag for the second time when just the idea of it makes your stomach tickle.

“Are you staring at my tits, Jeon?”

Caught red-handed, Jungkook's slightly scrunched eyes from the sun widened in a split second. “You don't usually refer to them as tits.” he comments instead.

You chuckle at the ridiculous response, “I usually don't have to refer to them at all. But you were staring.”

“Can you blame the man?” he shrugs, stealing a quick glance again as you give him the look he knows very well. The one where your eyebrow has been lifted for what seems like the hundredth time in the span of thirty minutes.

“Jeon, for this to work, you gotta behave yourself.”

Jungkook frowns at the nickname, “I prefer Kook better.”

“Jeon.” you correct just to annoy him. Deep down you cackle at the way his brows scrunch together in the softest way possible. 

“What do you want me to do? They're just right there! We were talking about your bikini, it's not my fault.”

“You don't have to stare at my breasts though.”

“Did it make you feel weird?”

“Well–”

“See? You don't not like it!” he exclaims, pointing at you accusingly.

“I barely said anything!”

“You don't have to, I know that look.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter. “Besides, you didn't answer. You don't like it?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” he deadpans.

“Um–yeah?” you deadpan back. 

He sighs, “I'm not gonna talk about your bikini because you're gonna accuse me of staring.”

“I don't have to accuse you, you were staring!” you laugh.

You're not going to lie. It does compliment you.

Even though you're here to focus on the two of you, in a different way than you were a few weeks ago, you should hate how Jungkook's attention makes your ego grow. 

“You told me to behave, so I'm gonna keep my mouth shut.”

“Why?” you question, not doing a great way to show your excitement. 

“Oh, now you want me to talk?” he laughs, “Nah, you wouldn't be able to handle it.”

“Cocky as always.”

He shrugs, “I never hid it.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, “But no, be serious right now.”

“Oh, I have been serious this whole time.”

“Jungkook!” you whine, “Is it not too much?”

“If I told you yes, would you change?”

You stay silent for a moment before simply saying; “No.”

“Then no, it's perfect.”

“Jungkook!” 

He stays silent for a moment, throwing his head back as his eyes squint shut from the trails of sun hitting his face. “God, woman.”

“What?” you mumble innocently.

Since when do you care what anyone thinks? Jungkook questions mentally, trying to keep his thoughts straight before he gets the courage to look you in the eyes.

“You look beautiful.”

You stare, battling with hundreds of things happening inside you. The heat in your cheeks gets almost unbearable and you do what you seem to be best at. Running away and playing it cool. “Yah, don't say it like that!”

“Like what?” Jungkook asks, brows pinched in confusion.

“So seriously.”

“I am serious,” Jungkook informs you, making it worse for your cheeks and the turmoil that's happening in the pit of your stomach. Why did you have to open your mouth? “Now let's go into that fucking water.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah, woah.”

“What's bothering you?” you ask, trailing behind him trying to catch up to him when he suddenly turns around and nears the sea. 

“Nothing,” he says casually, dipping his ankles into the chilly water. You open your mouth but before you can say something that could potentially lead to a conversation you would eventually back out of, Jungkook splashes your heated body.

You gasp, finding him smirking. Before you can get him back for it, he runs to the water and dips his entire body in. He emerges out of it in seconds, the water reaching just somewhere around his hips. You watch droplets of water run down his entire body, hair completely soaked from it as he wipes his face. 

“Are you staring at my abs, Y/L/N?” Jungkook shouts, your eyes widening as embarrassment makes it onto your face. Can he be any louder?

You look around for a second, trying to see if someone is witnessing this embarrassing moment. There's no one that seems to care, besides a group of girls meters away from you as they seem to find a certain interest in Jungkook. You purse your lips, looking at Jungkook. 

“Y'know, if I should behave, so should you.”

“I don't feel like behaving,” you call out to him, watching him as he creates waves with his hands as he effortlessly runs his hands through the water. “They are just there, you know?”

You get him back for it, still watching him and witnessing his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Oh, are they?”

“Mhm.”

“Get in here.”

“No.” you giggle, laughing when Jungkook grins and shakes his head at you. 

“I'm gonna get you.”

“Come here then.”

And fuck, he does. You laugh through it all, trying to back away as you promise him you will go deeper, though not fully out of respect to the sea you have. He doesn't listen. As soon as his arms wrap around your body, molding into his almost too naturally and perfectly. But you're caught up in the moment and in your giggles, hearing Jungkook's laugh as you squeal when the coldish water wets you. 

You cling to Jungkook's side, “There are no sharks, right?”

Jungkook snickers, “Of course there are. Somewhere in the sea at least.”

You nudge him, but Jungkook holds you close since he can reach better than you. He's also a way better swimmer than you. “Don't say that.”

“Look at those kids,” he says and points to the side. There are kids on their floaties, of course with their parents around. “They're not scared of sharks.”

“They could be dessert for all I care, I'm not gonna be one.” you joke, hearing Jungkook laugh as he doesn't allow you to inch closer to the shore. 

“You could be mine, but you wanted a break.” 

You gasp, tickling his side as he barely falters and just gives you the teasing grin. “Don't say stuff like that. I told you.”

“Alright, I won't.” he promises, imitating his lips being locked as he throws the imaginary key far to the sea. “I was joking.”

“Were you?” you ask, pretending to be teasing and amused but the truth is, there's a part of you trying to know the truth. 

“I guess you'll never know. I told you I'm shut.” he says with a grin like the annoying brat he can be. 

And for the sake of yourself, you decide to leave it be. You splash his face instead, playing it off like you seem to do often. For your own sake. 

Jungkook has always been the adventurous type. You've heard all kinds of stories from Taehyung and Jimin, some of them back from Busan or from the times you haven't been present in their lives back then. Jungkook would be up for anything that could get him the thrill and although, there weren't that many opportunities considering everyone's busy lives – you could see it from his mere decision of being up to all sorts of fun that involves adrenaline. 

So you shouldn't be surprised he practically stuttered and almost jumped from excitement once he spotted a place where jet skis can be rented. You've read his mind even before he opened his mouth and dragged you there.

After swimming and messing around in the sea for a while, you went for a walk and explored the beach, and tasted a few good snacks. You should've known it's not ending with that. 

And that's where you ended up. Sitting behind Jungkook, both of you wearing safety vests and you clutching to his back, arms around his waist. You live in the moment, focusing on each activity the two of you do.

The sun is now setting down, air is still warm but with the sun slowly disappearing, it's not boiling hot. You're exhausted and your body screams for a good cold shower and bed. On your way back to the beach house, you walk in silence and enjoy the sound of waves around you. 

You're the first one to occupy the bathroom, taking the chance to not be in the presence of Jungkook's naked abs and chest. As long as you keep your mind and body busy, there's a low chance of you overthinking and letting your mind wander somewhere where it simply should not. 

Not wanting to dwell any further of how this might have been a mistake, you take it as a test to prove your friendship. Jungkook is a temptation that has grown over the few months you get to experience something you haven't before. 

As the water dribbles down your naked body, wetting every inch of your skin, you think it's too soon to want everything to be different or back like it was. Because it never will be. And for that, you're scared of what's about to come. There are things you can control and then there are things that simply will evolve into something. The feeling of the unknown and fear of ruining your friendship with Jungkook genuinely scares you.

But again. You think of it more positively, you have to or else you're going to lose your mind. Jungkook's attractiveness and the fact you're attracted to him won't go anywhere. At least not in the near future and it's something you need to come to terms with. Like you said, it's too soon to think of it any differently. 

While you're here to focus on your friendship, perhaps you should focus on yourself more as well. 

As you wash yourself in a nice scent of orange and vanilla, you apply a body lotion you've brought to make your skin soft. While you do that and start doing unnecessary steps as your night routine, one you definitely don't do when you've spent the day not wearing make-up specifically, you tell yourself you just pamper yourself instead of trying to look good for someone else. 

Your skin is glowing and hair almost dried by the time you join Jungkook in the living room, wearing one of your night gowns. 

He's on his phone, barely glancing at you before he takes a double-take and eyes you up and down. 

“What?”

You're the first one that breaks the short-lived silence. Any nightgown is a small portion of what could be considered as your sleepwear. Jungkook out of everyone knows that, because he's seen you in everything you usually sleep in. Back in the day, you would never get the courage to let him see you sleep in anything other than oversized shirts and shorts. Even thinking of wearing tank tops made you feel weird, especially if he god forbid could see your nipples peeking through. 

This white nightgown is beautiful, but by no means designed to make men salivate or suggest anything other than having something nice to wear. Besides, the material is thin and light which is perfect for this warm weather. Plus, you and Jungkook have agreed or not having the AC turned on unless it's completely necessary. Not only is it not healthy but you're also very sensitive to coldness. Getting sick on this vacation is just not on your list, therefore you're trying to eliminate that chance as much as possible.

He narrows his eyes at you, trying to figure you out and you realize it right away before he can even open his mouth and offer you any sort of response.

“Oh, don't get this wrong. I packed my best stuff on this vacation and I didn't know we were sharing a bedroom.”

“I haven't said anything.” he says, watching you as if you were a predator as you get closer.

“You didn't have to, it's all over your face.”

As much as you enjoy his eyes on you, which always compliments you – it's one of those moments when you hide behind confidence and ignore the warmth that spreads inside the pit of your stomach. There's no point in thinking how many words from him or simple eye-contact would it take for him to take matters into his own hands. Or more like you. 

But you can't think about that. You can't wonder about it.

“I would suggest wearing something different but I won't.”

He smiles and it's so brief you barely catch it. “And why is that?”

“Because it's not my problem, of course.” you tease. “I'm wearing this for myself.”

“I never initiated anything different,” he tells you, tilting his head to the side while he studies your face. He doesn't even lock his phone as he tosses it beside him. “You should sleep in whatever you're comfortable in.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

You both stare at each other, trying not to crack a good laugh. It's a weird moment. Something between joking, amusement and tension that boils. If this happened a few weeks ago, he would probably have you underneath him as you're speaking. And the image is so explicit that it leaves a warm coat all over your body and you have to take a step back.

“But seriously now, you don't feel weird because of this?”

“If I said I am, would you change?”

“Of course not.”

He cracks a grin, “Then why asking?”

“I'm curious. I don't want to make you feel weird and this wasn't my intention. Besides, this doesn't expose anything major–and you've seen everything–”

“I have and for someone who doesn't care and wears this for herself, you're awfully explanatory.” 

Your eyes narrow into thin slits as you glare at him, sending him a warning look that's easily met with a boyish grin from him. 

“Now that you're finally out and finished making yourself look good for yourself, I'm gonna take a shower.”

Jungkook's laugh booms through the room and bounces off the walls when he manages to escape from your leg aiming at his buttcheek. To be fair, you were there for longer than you initially planned.

“Are you making fun of me, Jeon?” you call out to him, trying to sound pissed as a comfort glazes your soul. 

“When have I ever?” He calls out back, already in the bathroom and hidden from any threats your legs might make. 

It's been ages since you've had such a good sleep.

Exhaustion and the amount of activities you've done yesterday ultimately had a good share of it. The air here is different. The faint sounds of waves have been an additional part of your sleep. No cars passing by or city lights peeking through your blinds, or even occasional footsteps of your neighbors above your head.

You understand why people travel so far to relax. Sunlight peeks through the wide open window you've left and lets the chilly air get through the night. It felt so lovely that you fell asleep as soon as you closed your eyes.

Traces of sun touch your skin and make it warm, warmer than you've appreciated though and that alone tells you you're about to have another hot day ahead of you. Jungkook has briefly informed you of today's plans, always keeping in mind what you want to do but since you're more of a tagging alone vacation type, you just agree with whatever. 

You're here to relax and if you see something you would like to see or try, you'll feel open to do so. It's something you've assured him right before your body slumped into the comfiest bed you've ever laid in. Not even Jungkook's massive bed can compete with it. 

Or maybe it was the exhaustion all along.

Speaking of Jungkook, you tilt your head sideways to check on him. Not before you rub your eyes off the sleepiness. A sight of Jungkook's exposed back stares at you right back. Similar to the position you've just woken up from, he's sleeping on his stomach while arms underneath the white pillow as he hugs it to his face. You can't see his face and for a moment, you think it's better that way.

Whoever would see you right now, they would get a totally bad perception of the two of you. You look nothing like best friends who occasionally share bed.

Overthinking is not a huge part of your life. At least you think so. But ever since months have passed by and you've decided to take a break from the temptation laying right beside you, you feel like you've done nothing but that. Overthinking every second. 

You believe everything happens for a reason. And while you told yourself you're not going to overthink it and focus on your friendship instead, you do wonder if there's a true reason for why you and him ended up spending this vacation alone. 

Sure, Taehyung got injured and couldn't travel while Jimin couldn't go because of last changes at his work. It shouldn't mean more but just a mere coincidence that consists of bad luck and life. 

Like you've told yourself many times before, you will take this opportunity to focus on your decision of why you decided to take a break. Besides, you can't think about it too much and you do have to put lust aside, focusing on something that is far more sacred and important to you. 

You've no idea how long you lay there with your eyes open, watching the beautiful view out of your bed. You haven't checked your phone, something you would've done by now if you were at home. But not at the moment. You want to fully enjoy this and stay in the present – because right now it feels like you don't need anything else. 

You haven't realized how much you needed to get away. Perhaps the reason for this vacation is not to tell you something secretive, but it's for you to recharge and come back stronger than ever.

And maybe there's no reason for it. Maybe you should just freaking enjoy it and not overthink every second. 

You almost groan out loud, ready to spring out of the bed to stop yourself from thinking and being alone with your mind. The soft groan coming from the person next to you stops you and for some dumb reason, you catch yourself closing your eyes as if to pretend you were sleeping. 

Jungkook tosses around and stretches his limbs, groaning raspily under his breath as he turns to his back. He's back to sleeping, so do you think before you slowly open your eyes and catch the perfect sight of him doing the same a second after. He blinks, frowning slightly as if he realizes where he is.

Witnessing that is cute. Wait. What.

You widen your eyes and quickly shake that thought away. Calling him cute, even if it's in your mind seems illegal. Even though you've done that many times before. Years ago to be exact. 

“Mornin',” he rasps out, hand reaching to his face as long fingers rub the sleep and tiredness off those puffy eyes. 

Muttering the same greeting, you watch him close them for a moment as a soft groan makes it past his lips. “How long have you been awake?” he asks sleepily.

Long enough to watch you sleeping, you admit in your mind but it sounds ridiculous even there. You shouldn't have these thoughts anyway, no matter how honest you are.

“Just a few minutes,” you reply instead, rolling onto your back as you stare at the ceiling. 

A momentary silence has never been an issue with Jungkook. In fact, you don't find it uncomfortable but for some reason, having him so close feels weirdly familiar and odd. It's different now but it is not at the same time. You're both in a completely different state. While you realize it's in your head and sleepy Jungkook has no idea, you decide to cut off the silence and fill it with a conversation.

“It's already ten.” Your eyes drift to the digital clock that sits on the nightstand on your side. 

“Fuuck,” Jungkook sighs, rubbing his face again. “Already?”

You nod, glancing at him to find his arm tucked under his head, his face turned to you as he offers you a sleepy smile. Gulping down, you sit up and pat down your hair to make it less messy. 

“What are we doing first today?” 

Not offering him any more attention with your eyes, your feet slip into your slides easily as he remains silent for a moment. Your back burns, the traces of his eyes are without a doubt the reason for it.

“We should eat something first, then I wanna rent a car so it's easier to travel on the island. And then bungee jumping.” 

“Fuck, you still wanna do that?” you whine a little, glancing over your shoulder to find him grinning at your evident disappointment.

“You only live once.”

“That's a stupid reason to do stuff like that,” you point out.

You're all up for Jungkook having fun and trying new things he hasn't. However, sometimes your type of fun and interest differs from Jungkook's and once again, you're reminded of his adventurous self. There's no way in hell you'll go through that. He knows that.

“But if something happens to you, I want your car.”

Jungkook snorts out loud, your own lips curling into an amused grin as your feet pat into the bathroom. 

“Or no, your apartment will do.” you raise your voice as you call out to him, making sure he hears you. 

He does, along with the amusement and teasing in your soft voice. 

“How generous you are,” he calls back. “You wouldn't survive without me.”

You chuckle under your breath, washing your face in cold water. You're done within a minute, patting down the remains of it.

“Oh, here we go. Cocky much in the morning?” 

“You should know that by now.” 

You jump at how fast and close the answer comes. Jungkook stands between the door frame, leaning against the left side of it. Crossing his arms over his chest, you try to not stare too much at the display of his skin and muscles.

Reaching for your toothbrush instead, you focus on your task instead and stare at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks feel warm all of a sudden and you're sure it has nothing to do with Hawaii's warm weather. 

Jungkook watches you in silence. You're not sure if he still has a cocky grin attached to his lips or if he's simply just watching, but you know he is. You can feel it. And then you hear him stepping closer until he reaches for his own toothbrush. The familiar scent of him wraps around you once again as you give him a look with an arched brow. 

Is this his way of keeping his distance? 

Well, to be fair he never said he will keep his distance. Your idea of how this is going to work is simply to focus on your relationship, rather than the physical side of it and what was left of it. 

Although, you have no idea how him standing shirtless next to you is going to help that. You welcome the challenge though. 

You two ignore a lot of facts that surround you. So you continue to brush your teeth next to each other like it's the most normal thing ever. And maybe it is.

But back then none of you were shirtless or exposed enough that there is only so little left to each other's imagination. Is imagination even a thing here? 

You've seen every inch of each other's bodies. You don't have to imagine anything because you've seen it all. You've felt it all.

“Do you mind?”

You straighten up once you spit the remains of mouthwash. Jungkook turns on the shower, checking the temperature as he's visibly ready to take his morning shower. 

“Unless you wanna join me.”

It's the cunning smirk that slowly sneaks onto his face that makes you scrunch up the small face towel that's been used and throw it in his direction. It bounces off his puffed out chest and you hate how he laughs, ignoring your attempt to silently tell him to fuck off.

“Boundaries, Jeon.” You remind him.

“You never minded them before.” He continues to tease you and you snarl at him, throwing him a glare. 

“Now I do.”

“Alright, alright. Sorry.” He bows and you groan, flipping him off before you close the bathroom door with a loud thud.

His humorous laugh behind the door accompanies you long enough until you're far away to breathe it out. You'll have to do that a lot when it comes to Jungkook.

Your soft smile is caught in the reflection of a sparkling clean microwave and you quickly look away, ignoring the previously stated facts. 

“Kook, are you really sure?” 

After you had breakfast, walked around a bit and rented a car like Jungkook said, you stand in a queue that's slowly but surely shortening. 

He would've actually laughed if he didn't glance at you and see your widened eyes, as you stare at staff putting a harness on people and preparing them for the jump. Whenever someone jumps with a loud scream, some people as a pair, he sees your breath hitching and stopping for a moment.

Of course he is sure. He's mentioned this a couple of times throughout the years but he never really had the opportunity to do this. So you're aware of not only his interest but excitement as well. 

Unfortunately for him, this is a hard no for you and even though you would do anything for Jungkook – go special lengths such as pretending to be his girlfriend – this is where you draw the line. It's comical. 

“You sure you don't wanna jump with me?” He asks instead, laughing when he sees your dumbfounded look. Is he serious?

He had to sign a freaking liability waiver that he's doing this at his own risk. While you're aware this is a standard contract for all these kinds of sports, you've almost thrown up when the woman handed it to him and he signed it. 

“Worth a shot.” he mumbles.

It's laughable as you stand beside him, shifting uncomfortably from side to side as if you were the one doing this. Meanwhile Jungkook is close to jumping from excitement as he watches other participants before him in a complete awe and excitement. 

“Have you not watched a horror movie when the most ridiculous stuff happens once people do this kind of stuff?”

He gives you a side glance, “Are you talking about Final Destination?” he stops for a second, “I don't remember there was a bungee jumping scene.”

“It's not about bungee jumping itself.” you point out, growing frustrated that he's practically just making fun of it.

“You should stop watching horror movies.”

Your response comes right away. “I would have, if you guys didn't force me every time.”

He snickers, “Y'know, for someone who's always very considerate and empathic, you sure know when to talk about the right stuff.”

“Talking about all the risks this includes is right,” you inform him. “I'm worried.”

“No one wants to hear there's a risk of a plane falling when you're about to board the plane.”

Oh shit, he's right. You know he is, yet you couldn't help yourself and hoped that he's going to change his mind at the last minute. Obviously, for your own selfish reasons.

“Flying a plane is different though.” You still stubbornly mumble, hearing another scream from one of the participants which makes you flinch. 

“The point is not,” he points out but as you open your mouth to argue, he grabs you by your shoulders and has you standing in front of him. “Stop worrying, I would do this with or without you.”

“Damn, how sweet of you.” you mutter, causing him to laugh. “Couldn't we ride horses or something instead?”

“We could still do that. After I jump.”

“Oh god, don't say it like that!” you whine. He laughs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he hugs you to his side. 

“Taehyung would jump with me.”

“Taehyung would probably be drunk out of his ass if he happened to jump.”

You look at each other, laughing before the woman's staff calls out for Jungkook. She asks if you're jumping together and you wildly shake your head at her, stepping aside as you let her put a harness on Jungkook. 

He's grinning, watching her excitedly as she says all kinds of information about safety to him. You don't listen to that. For a moment you just focus on the happiness and excitement on him that has been evident ever since you stepped out of the car.

Their conversation is a little lost on you, therefore your brows are furrowed in utter confusion when Jungkook sits down and gets his legs secured. 

“Wait–what are you doing?” you ask. 

All people before him either sat when they were jumping or they looked as if they were lying, in a flying position. Jungkook puts a helmet on, shooting you a thumbs up as he ignores your ready to flip out. 

He's being hoisted up, upside down as he grins like a kid at you. 

“What the hell, are you crazy, Jungkook?” you yell, hands gripping the railing for dear life.

You thought this center did just those positions and Jungkook flying upside down just never crossed your mind, even though you know people jump like that too. 

“See you soon.”

“Jungkook!”

But before he can focus on your angry expression, he flies you a kiss and is let go. You yelp, wincing as you his body flies into the distance in a rapid motion. You can't help but watch, your eyes lingering on what seems like a dot down there the entire time. 

“My boyfriend jumped as well, a couple of times actually.” Someone says beside you and you don't look, you can't as your eyes stay on Jungkook. But from the voice, her accent tells you she's local. “If it makes you feel better, no accidents happened here. A few people threw up but that's it.”

You offer her a nervous chuckle, not really thinking Jungkook will be throwing up. In the worst case scenario, he would want to jump again. 

“See?” She stands closer, taking a closer look as they start pulling him up and you sigh in relief. “Your boyfriend is safe. Is he the throwing up type?”

You finally glance at her, seeing her tan face and curly hair surrounding it. 

“He's not my boyfriend,” you tell her, “He's my best friend. Psycho best friend it seems.”

She laughs but her eyes linger on you, looking as if she doesn't believe you. You subtly roll your eyes. You know exactly what she's thinking. You've seen that reaction many times before and by now, it no longer phases you. 

Everything else becomes a white noise and the girl beside you is long forgotten as the cord springs back to its original space and with that, they pull Jungkook slowly up. They help him balance. Letting go of the railing, you wait for him to move aside so he's not that close to the edge as it's another person's turn. 

But none of that matters and when Jungkook finds you at your original spot, he smirks. “Missed me?”

“You idiot!” you curse, punching his chest before you hug him. He laughs, chest vibrating as he hugs you back.

“I would jump again but I wouldn't wanna give you a heart attack.”

You smack him again, giving the girl that still stands there a knowing look. Jungkook's eyes move toward her for a moment, wondering who she is but his attention is back at you as you breathe out loudly. 

“You're crazy, you know that?”

He shrugs, effortlessly running his fingers through his hair. “I'm crazy about a lot of things.”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge your head toward the exit before he changes his mind and you'll be charged for a murder. “Let's go.”

He listens, but not before he tickles your side for a good measure, earning another smack. 

He's a crazy idiot for making you worry like that.

“Awww, you were so worried about your Kookie?”

Baring your teeth at Taehyung's huge grin that displays on Jungkook's phone screen, he's a lucky person that you're currently sitting at one of the restaurants near the beach. There are too many people for you to tell him to fuck off. 

You knew the moment Jungkook decided to accept the video call, they would have a field day. Honestly, they make the situation way more dramatic than it was. Luckily for them, you know your friends and their annoying teasing that is purely raged by your annoyed reactions. It's what makes their eyes lit up until you put a stop to their charades. 

That's what you get for being the only woman in your inner and close circle. 

You glare at Jungkook, non-verbally asking him do you see what you did?

As always, Taehyung asked about your day and since he can't be a part of it, he likes to hear details. He doesn't mind it, as he assured you many times. You still feel bad that he can't be here with you. Jimin too.

And luckily for Jungkook, he briefly mentioned you almost shit your pants when you saw him actually doing it. He wasn't really making fun of you, until Taehyung took the matters into his hands and turned it into a teasing battle that you're a victim of. 

You lean toward the table where Jungkook holds his phone, facing you as he watches your interaction with Taehyung with amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Fuck both of you,” you whisper, making sure Taehyung hears it. 

He does.

It makes his grin even bigger. 

“You should've seen him. He jumped upside down.”

“Isn't that what people do when they bungee jump?” Taehyung asks, met with another huff coming out of you.

“Yes, but dozens of people before him didn't jump upside down.” you inform him with a sass, seeing him put his hands up in surrender.

“Honestly, you're like an old married couple. You scold him and he fucking enjoys it.”

Rolling your eyes, you adjust the napkin that's sitting on your lap. It's getting dark now. Until the adventurous day, you wanted to have a calm dinner by the beach. Tomorrow's plan is to enjoy at least a half of the day there, relaxing. No adrenaline sports.

“Are you even scared of anything?” you ask Jungkook, lifting up both your brows.

“I'm scared of many things.”

“Yeah and you're one of them.” Taehyung butts in. Jungkook rolls his eyes and so do you.

“You guys make it seem as if I torture you on daily basis.”

“Well, you can be scary sometimes.”

“You know what, Tae?” you press your lips together in a fake smile.

“Wha–”

You don't give him a chance to respond, ending the call. Jungkook snickers, pulling his phone to him as he checks the screen. You sit back with a satisfied smile.

“You know Tae… He would tease shit out of everyone and everything.”

“Oh, you're not so innocent either.” you point out with a chuckle.

He frowns, momentarily pausing as he reads out a message. “He just texted me–fucking rude.”

“Send him a kissing emoji, he's gonna know it's me.”

Jungkook shakes his head with a chuckle, typing something there. He locks his phone, putting it away as it has become a strict and unsaid rule to not have phones when you're out. To be honest, it happened naturally and you're guessing, both of you want to enjoy this time without the internet. Unless it's to make calls of course.

“Besides, you were shaking when I danced on the table. You were practically shitting your pants back then–do you see me teasing you for it?”

He frowns, “When?”

“The NYE party? Jin's cabin?”

Quiet follows for a moment as the mention of one of the very significant nights comes to the surface. Not even the waves in the background can wash out the slight odd vibe in the air. So much happened there.

“You remember that?”

“Faintly, but Taehyung filled me in.” you shrug.

“That was different,” he simply says.

“Different how? I was having fun and you begged me to come down.”

“Yes, because you were wasted out of your ass. I had all safety measures taken care of, while you were dancing, wasted wearing heels.”

You purse your lips.

“So don't compare those two.”

He doesn't sound angry, he's strictly informative and you wonder what he's so defensive about. Perhaps the memories from that night aren't exactly pleasant. You might've looked like you were having the time of your life, but you were going through hell back then. 

“Damn, alright. Point taken.” you mutter, seeing him roll his eyes but his lips crack a grin.

“Just don't dance on the table this time.”

“Why would I do that?” you laugh.

“To get back at me.”

It's silly. You wouldn't do that and he knows that. There it is. It's the innocent teasing you've missed. Innocent. That's what you need. 

You still reach toward the wine glass as you gulp it down. A tight smile is the last thing you offer Jungkook before you dig into your meal.

It's the next and second day of you officially being here. 

Over the short period of your stay, it's crazy to realize how used to you've become to the new world around you. You and Jungkook have fallen into the routine of waking up without any alarm, not bothering yourselves to set one so you could do as many things as you can during your stay. 

Both of you relax and let things happen naturally, with a bit of planning because you still want to have fun and experience fun things. It's not hectic at all. 

Jungkook drags you to learn how to surfboard and while he's a natural talent (another of course), you're having just as much fun even though you're nowhere near Jungkook's level. You taste the most delicious food until you can't eat anymore, worrying you're going to have a stomach ache if you won't stop at the right time.

Now you're laying on the beach blanket with eyes closed, listening to the waves that are always there. 

Jungkook has gone to grab you some alcohol free drinks, cold drinks, after you both agreed on having them. It's been a while since he left, so you crack your eyes open and squint at the bright sun even though you've been lying in the shade. 

You look around. A part of people playing beach volleyball, tanning or swimming in the water, you don't spot him right away. Until you would recognize his figure everywhere and from miles away. He's bringing his drink with him, staring at the sand under his bare feet and you can't help but watch him the entire time. 

His hair is still a bit wet from swimming that he decided on earlier. Jungkook knows how to relax and you've seen him relaxing more than ever here. However, he still needs to get active somehow so every few minutes, he decides to do something. It's quite laughable and adorable, considering he would be lifting weights if he was back at home. 

He's passing by the volleyball court that someone provisionally made and entertained a bunch of tourists that were looking for a bit of sport and fun. You're supposed to go jet skiing with Jungkook tomorrow, so you will save that later and just bask in the sun for now. 

Your thoughts fade away just as they naturally came when you spot a group of girls, calling out to Jungkook which stops in his tracks and looks at them with curious eyes. His mouth stretches into a smile as he nods, looking around with drinks in his hand until one of the girls points toward the little table next to their deck chairs. He sets it there carefully before he pats his hands over his swim trunks. Another girl eagerly hands him something which you soon realize is a phone.

They pose for him as Jungkook snatches a few pictures of them. Sitting in the distance for a good minute, he keeps taking pictures of them as they pose in typical poses with the beach and sea behind them. 

It's pointless to mention they're all wearing bikinis. You're not one to judge and you would never criticize their bodies but shit, they all look good and definitely stand out with their different body types. They're hot and you don't have to be a man to conclude that. 

They chat for a while and you hate yourself for growing slightly annoyed at Jungkook's absence and clear interest in whatever conversation they have. Minutes seem like hours and you look away, watching your surroundings. God, you're pathetic. You act as if your eyes don't move in their direction every now and then. 

Until you're staring at the sea in front of you and notice Jungkook's nearing. He sets your drinks down. “Here you go, but be careful when drinking. It's cold.”

Cold? All the ice probably melted until you stopped chatting with the girls.

Pressing your lips together, you nod understandingly and take a sip so you bite your tongue and don't say something that could spiral into any sort of confrontation. What's the deal? You're not even mad at him. You're mad at him for being bothered. 

It's okay. They just wanted a group photo and Jungkook was passing by. No big deal. 

You sigh, giving him a smile as you look at the nice pink colors your strawberry drink's having.

“I met some girls on my way here. They're about to play volleyball. They ask me to join, you wanna join too?”

You freeze for a second, only your eyes sending him a glance. Of fucking course.

Can you blame them though? Jungkook's hot and has been catching women's gazes every time he comes out. They're shooting their shots and who are you to stand in their way? You've learned from your past mistakes when it came to Ester or another girl in Jungkook's life. Plus, you're on a vacation and they're strangers.

“Nah, you go. I'm gonna sit here and fangirl.”

He lifts his brow, “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He eyes you suspiciously. “I'll stay if you want me to.”

You give him a dumbfounded look. “I'm not your mother, Kook. Go have fun.” you chuckle.

“Alright.” he nods, standing up. “I'll be right there if you need anything.”

“I'm all good,” you assure him. “Go kick their asses.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “They're girls, Y/N.”

He heads back to them, unaware when you mutter under your breath; “So?”

At first, you thought there's no reason for you to dig deeper in things that don't matter and would show overtime. You've stuck to your own little world, relaxing and checking your phone every now and then. You've also watched the volleyball game. 

Interesting to watch, you may say. 

Jungkook's in his element and you're not exactly talking about the female audience around him. Some guys joined them too and you soon realize they know the girls, or at least are familiar with them. Jungkook's team is winning. No doubt there and you find yourself smiling whenever he shoots, and the ball hits the sand on the opposite side of the other team. You silently cheer for him.

For a second you think of recording him and sending it to Jimin and Taehyung. But knowing Taehyung, he would thirst over the women playing the game rather than the real meaning of the video. Perhaps you're a bit selfish because you definitely don't need to hear about how hot those women are. Because that's what they are. 

They're women.

But you should've expected this to happen. It's what you maybe wanted to happen. It's a great opportunity to fully move on. There will be many occasions and situations like this. You shouldn't be mad.

So why the fuck your lips turn downwards like you've been kicked to the stomach?

Jungkook comes back after running with everyone to the water to freshen up. He yells something to them when walking out of the sea, grinning from ear to ear. You feel like an idiot. How can you be so bothered when he seems happy?

“Hey, they want to jet ski for a bit. You wanna join?”

Jet skiing is fun, you would go but you stop yourself from nodding because of your own partially selfish reasons. “No, you go.”

“I know we're supposed to go tomorrow and we will–”

“Kook, it's no big deal,” you laugh, “We can go tomorrow.”

“You sure you don't wanna go? They're all nice.”

You're sure they are.

“Maybe I will join you later or something.”

“They wanna play volleyball again, so you can join, then.”

“Yeah, sure.” you smile, giving him a thumbs up as he gulps more of the drink until it's finished. 

You wave at him as he joins them again, going to rent the jets. You sigh, groaning silently at yourself. A part of you wanted to join them just to stick with Jungkook. It's okay for him to have fun with someone else.

Your throat feels tight when you see the woman sticking to his side. Her caramel skin glistens under the sun rays and she looks straight out of any male fantasy. You've seen so many different models coming from your model agency, but this one takes the cake and you're not sure if she's a model. 

Her curves are thicker than the models you usually see. She's wearing a revealing bikini, her breasts almost spilling out of the bra but it's not because of that. It's because she's gorgeous. She's different from Kiko. She's different from you.

You would guess she might not be Jungkook's type. But then he looks down at her, smiling widely as he fastens her vest and something kicks inside you. 

“Hey–” 

Your head moves quickly toward the male with full on abs, nearing you carefully as he chuckles when you give him a glare.

“The guy–Jungkook?” he stops for a moment, “He told us you're his friend.”

Friend. That stings for a split second.

“I am, and?”

He chuckles, not put off by your raised brow and dangerous eyes. The man's skin is tanned and his dark wet hair is pushed back, showing you his sharp jawline. 

“And I wanted to check on you and ask if you really don't wanna join.”

Oh god, he must think you're some kind of introvert that avoids all social interactions. Little does he know you did it for your and Jungkook's sake. 

You glance back at them, Jungkook sitting on a jet ski as the girl sits behind him, hugging him from behind. Your throat goes dry and you swallow down the lump that suddenly appears there.

“Officially, you don't have to if you do–”

You roll your eyes at the familiar sentence and you grow slightly annoyed at that. You brush any sand that might appear on your moisturized skin. 

“Y'know what? I was starting to get bored.”

His smile grows and he looks you up and down. Not in the disgusting and perverted way, but in an almost challenging way as he smirks. 

“What about my things though?” you look down at your phone. 

“We can leave it in the bar there. They always look after our things when we do stuff like this.”

“Always?”

“We're here for the third time.”

“We.”

“Some of our friends. But we always meet someone new too, so they join us.” 

Just like Jungkook right now. 

“Oh, so you're the friendly type?”

He chuckles, “Not always. Just for specific people.”

And then there's the look in his eyes. Challenging and telling you more than his lips are. Oh god. He's flirting with you. 

You grab your and Jungkook's phones, not wanting them to get stolen. When you straighten and balance yourself, he holds out his hand for you to take. You slap his hand, brushing past him. “Let's go.”

You hear his amused chuckle behind you as he guides you toward the bar. After your stuff is taken care of and the staff is obviously familiar with him, you join the others. 

“Guys, someone's gonna join us after all.” He calls out and you realize you don't know his name.

Jungkook is in the middle of conversation, grinning as he looks up curiously. His smile falls when he spots you and you almost lift your brow at him. 

“Cool!”

“Great!”

“I'm Nat, what's your name?”

All kinds of questions and reactions are thrown at you. Welcoming and warm which you're glad for.

You introduce yourself, feeling a hand on the back of your back, not going any lower out of respect as the man who brought you here, guides you to one of the jets. 

“Mind sharing this one with me, Y/N?” he asks, handing you the vest. 

“No,” you say lightly and feigning innocence. “Do you?”

“Of course not.”

“You could at least tell me your name. Y'know, in case something happens to me.”

“What's fun in that?”

“So you're also the mysterious type?” Cocking your brow at him in challenge, he smirks. 

“Gabriel.”

He excuses himself for a minute, to grab his own vest as you put the one he handed you on. 

“I thought you didn't wanna go.” Jungkook suddenly says, standing right in front of you. He lightly nudges your hands as he helps you to fasten up your vest. 

You stare at him, “Changed my mind.”

“You could've told me. Wanna ride with me?”

“You already have someone to ride with.” you tell him, chuckling as you're trying your best to appear light and carefree.

“I see you do too. Doesn't mean we can change it up.”

You shrug, “He offered.”

He frowns, his eyes dropping all over your face as they stop on your lips for a quick moment. “So, you cool with that?”

“Yeah,” you say, swallowing. “It's okay to meet new people.”

His eyes snap to yours. He watches you, causing you to almost squirm in his never flattering eye contact. “What do you mean?”

Fuck, you should've stay silent. 

“Well, we talked about this earlier. We're not–it's probably for the best.”

You watch his tongue poke the inside of his cheek, a knowing look crossing over his features as he momentarily looks away before he chuckles. He rubs his nose as he backs away. 

“Okay.”

Him going back to the woman, watching her arms around his waist when they haven't even set off yet, is not the most disturbing feeling. As Gabriel joins you and you sit in the same position like Jungkook and the woman, you can't help but realize that none of this seems okay.

a/n: Oh god. It's already out! It's been a while since I wrote an author's note & to be honest, there's so much that I wanna say. At first, I wasn't really sure what – minus of course to thank you for your understanding and patience which unfortunately doesn't involve everyone. I'm glad that this chapter is finally out! To think it was supposed to be out in summer (and it's already close to winter 🥴) and even earlier than that, is insane!! 

I don't wanna go into too much detail and make this a/n too long, most of you probably have been hanging around for a while to know everything that has happened since the last update. Life has been busy but I don't think about it negatively, even tho it obviously affects my writing schedule. I needed the hectic lifestyle. Sometimes I felt too exhausted, but I would rather take something positive from it than think of it negatively, especially since I wasn't in a good space before. 

I wanna apologize for taking so long. I know y'all have been waiting. For me, it didn't even feel that long which shows just how quickly everything has been happening in my life. There are so many things that affected it and I could literally make a list (lol) but I'm sure most of you know a good amount of it, since I've been as honest as I could've been. I know I couldn't control 99% of how busy I got. There were times when I wanted to write badly but I barely could even think of it. There were also times when I could've found inspiration and time, but then one look at my Wattpad profile or my inbox made me just lock my phone and do other things. 

I don't want to make this a/n to give off a negative vibe, because there is so much to be happy about, but I just wish some people could be more understanding. Some of them have been extremely toxic, not making it any easier for me. I'm slightly sad to admit that if it wasn't for my passion and love for this story, I probably would just pack it off because the hate and messages I got are insane. I know me saying this won't change anything – I've tried multiple times. But please for love of God, stop pressuring writers and gaslight them, or many other unnecessary and disgusting things.

But putting this aside, I wanna thank everyone who's shown me love and support – made all of this worth it. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, there is more to come and I've already started working on the next one. Please, don't ask when and how much. I don't know. I'll do my best. My goal is to post at least once a month, but this doesn't mean it will happen. I've learned not to plan much because I don't wanna disappoint anyone. So I'll just work on my stories privately and once I have something to share, I'll inform you 😊

So, yeah, that's it guys! I'm glad to be back with another chapter and hopefully, there won't be such a long wait anymore! I really wish this won't happen again for multiple reasons. Thank you for cheering me on and letting me know there are such great readers like you. I'll be forever thankful. During this story and after it finishes as well!

If you've enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡ Teaser for 59 along with a special unfinished scene (that didn't make it in 58) will be posted there!

goal: 2k notes 🌙

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝) | 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Yandere Class 1-A X Reader — { PART 2 }: We’ve Got Company~

(Description: Titles are hard, okay? Please don’t shame me for how cheesy it is because I know it's corny LOL. But I make up for it with decent writing! I POPPED OFF with some of these parts.

We all know this by now, but it’s safe to say (Y/N) is too trusting of EVERYONE. The amount of people I keep making them blindly and wholly give their faith to is…concerning. I know you guys probably want them to fight back more, but it’s hard when I haven’t labeled them with a specified Quirk. I wanted to leave it up to you guys to give them the attributes they have in your minds without spoon-feeding you every single choice (Y/N) makes. Sooooo, it suffers a little bit with the repetitiveness of this constant back and forth getting pulled every which way. It’s also difficult when there are so many characters to cover.

I am not complaining about it though! I am extremely proud of this story and am very happy with the outcome. I just hope you guys love it as much as I do. Plusss, it’s kinda nice to imagine being a princess stolen away at every opportunity by handsome/gorgeous suitors teehee!)

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Original Concept - [Mommabean’s OG Story] → Here

Part I - [My first addition] → Here

Part II → You’re here!

~

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Style of Story: Sequel Oneshot // This story is a continuation of Momma’s Yandere Class 1-A Purge short story. I have written a previous part to this, so please check it out to understand what is happening!; Yandere Purge! If you don’t know what that is, go take a look at @yanderemommabean’s original works of it on her page, all is explained there; Many of MHA’s adults are included here, but I don’t want to spoil who exactly is in the story, so that is all you get so far~!

Word Count: 24K

WARNING(s): Swearing; physical fighting and threats (threats aren’t made at (Y/N), nor are they hurt beyond bruising); there is a brief mention of rape and sexual assault—it is not gone into heavily or in detail, but you need to know it is there; mental and emotional manipulation to the reader; bending of MHA’s storyline and the events currently happening (mainly regarding the setting, timeline, and people’s aliveness LMAO) to fit (Y/N) into the story but bear with me; some unrealistic interactions are going to happen in this fic because to get everyone together in a setting like this is near impossible; All of Class 1-A’s students are aged up to third years & everyone is 18 or older // I AM WRITING THEM AS IF THEY ARE IN CLASS 3-A NOW FYI!

[PLEASE NOTE: I DO NOT SUPPORT YANDERE TENDENCIES IN REAL LIFE!!! Do not confuse my writing this subject as encouraging it, there is a difference between reading/writing yandere stories V.S real-life situations. Please, if someone in your life is behaving like a character(s) in this story (i.e. obsessive, possessive, controlling, abusive, psychotic, sociopathic, LIKE A WACKADOO, etc.) get immediate help! That behavior in the real world is not romantic, sweet, or NORMAL! Stay aware, stay safe.]

~

Unable to leave without one final gloat, Shinsou turns back to smirk at the students, “All of you were wrong earlier, by the way. It’s me, dumbasses.”

Suddenly, a cocky voice chuckles from behind the mind-controlling boy, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, kid~...”

As reluctant as Shinsou is to say this, a tiny shiver runs down his back. Coming from the busted-up entrance of the gymnasium, Aizawa’s voice rings out like a bell. Your current threat swivels around to face the intruder. Even though his recognizable voice is a dead giveaway, seeing him actually standing there in the rubble draws a sigh of relief out of you. You don’t know whether to cry, smile, or scream for his help; either way, it’s just a nice change of pace to see his usual disheveled appearance and relaxed stature. At least something has remained consistent on this hellish evening.

Though, something sensible clicks in your mind. Thinking back on all the strong-willed friends you lost in the fight against this disease, you realize there’s a strong chance that even your own teacher has fallen victim to its siren call. As much as you’d like to go running into his comforting embrace and wail about how horribly your classmates have been treating you the past few hours, you bite your tongue and stay complacent in Hitoshi’s arms. Not like you could voice many of your concerns with the makeshift gag still sat across your mouth.

“Damn,” Shinsou mutters to himself before perking up to meet his instructor's eye with a devious glint in his eye, “Mr. Aizawa. Good to see—,” Before the boy could finish his greeting, the stoic hero held up his hand, his palm facing Shinsou.

“Save the pleasantries. You’d think after all these years of one-on-one training you’d realize I can read you like an open book. Your expressions continue to give your intentions away too easily. So cut the crap.” Shinsou's false smile drops quicker than it appeared. Aizawa leisurely waltzes into the room, closing in on the both of you.

Aizawa continues his analysis with a sigh, “And I wouldn’t try that little gimmick with me. I’m not like my students over there,” he vaguely points behind the two of you to the group.

“I’m your mentor. All the tricks you have up your sleeve are hardly even interesting choices to me anymore. I should know, I taught them all to you, after all.” He chuckled to himself.

“Did you come here just to nag my ear off about how you’re so much better than me, or because you have something actually important to say? ‘Cause, if it's the former, I can’t stay and chat. I’ve got some pretty precious cargo in my hands at the moment.” Shinsou brags, hoisting you further up into his arms, forcing a garbled complaint from you.

“Watch your tone, brat.” Aizawa glares at the snarky comeback his student possessed. Hm. So, Hitoshi thinks he’s hot shit because he won against a handful of decently strong opponents? Well, that’s just fine. He’s used to putting cocky bastards in their place.

“I’ve come to offer you a deal of sorts. We can either speak about it rationally, or,” he shines a leering grin, “I can use my quirk on you, and you can say goodbye to the hold you have over your classmates right now. How do you think you’d fare against 19 pissed-off pro heroes?” This time, you can actually feel Shinsou shutter at the sinister tone your teacher leans into. His reaction makes sense. The idea of irrational, infected, superhuman, edgy teens hunting you down fighting isn’t a pleasant one. Not just one of them either, a whole damn fleet of them. You’d be shaking in your boots too.

“Since I’m nice, I’ll let you decide,” Aizawa has a bored look on his face again as he runs a hand through the inky mop of hair atop his head. A few seconds lurch by before Shinsou caves.

“Fine, old-timer. I’ll hear you out.” Shinsou reluctantly agrees. He knows he could take on a few of them at once in combat, but as soon as the heavy hitters join the fight—it’ll be over. He’d much rather join forces with his instructor than be betrayed by the greedy moochers residing in his class. Shinsou knows that if some of them had the chance, they’d steal you with no hesitation or regret. He’ll just have to sit and see what the idea Aizawa wants to propose is.

The two of them walk towards each other. A meeting held face-to-face in the middle of the gymnasium.

“I should honestly reprimand you guys for how shittily you’ve treated (L/N) this evening. It’s absurd how ragged you’ve been running them. Absolutely unacceptable. Maybe I should even expel the lot of you after the Purge ends.” Wait, Aizawa could see you too? What, is your peril being broadcasted on live television for the world to see or something?!

“Hey, don’t lump me with those barbarians,” Shinsou pulled back in a look of grievance, “I waited until everything was calm to strike. They were the ones who made (Y/N) run around like a headless chicken.” He tossed his head back to the hypnotized horde.

“Hm. We’ll discuss it as a class later.” Aizawa coughs into his fist.

“Fine. Now, what’s this deal you’ve thought up?” Shinsou prompts the conversation.

“Right. It’s about—,” Aizawa is interrupted by his cautious student.

“(Y/N). Am I right?” Shinsou jumps to the conclusion rather abruptly.

Aizawa glares, “Don’t interrupt someone while they’re talking, Shinsou. It’s rude.”

“But you did that to me not ev—,”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Aizawa purposefully cuts him off, “And yes. It’s about them.”

“Hmph,” Shinsou narrows his eyes at the mention of you, “what do you want with them?”

“Not quite the right question. Change that to more like what can we do for them,” Aizawa twists the words to better fit his narrative.

Intrigued, Hitoshi takes the bait, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is I don’t want to outright take them from you,” he shifts his weight to the other foot, “I want to make a deal to share them with you.”

Shouta continues, “Aoyama and his group had a good idea teaming up with Izuku’s crew. Working together, especially when the stronger piers can aid the weaker links, is a much more productive way of going about things. There’s safety in numbers.” Your body freezes up at his words. You connect the dots that he heard, or possibly even saw that whole ordeal. How? Where was he viewing from? Did he watch on a security camera? It’s a likely theory, the school is littered with them. You thought Denki killed the power earlier with his quirk. Or, with a more chilling idea, was he actually there? Physically in the vicinity? How was he nearby, could hear and see the whole event, and you didn’t notice him? Why didn’t he help you? Or, at least, intervene? Your mind is muddled with questions, but the two press on with their conversation.

“Sharing, huh? Thought you liked working alone.” Shinsou prodded, skeptical of the plan.

“Some missions call for an extra set of hands.” Aizawa cooly replied.

“I’m not sure. Not too big on the idea of letting go of them.” Shinsou pulled your bundled-up form closer to his chest. It’s like he’s a little kid—red in the face because of frustration, fighting to keep his stuffie all to himself as an adult asks him to share it with the other kids.

“I’m not asking you to fully let go of them, kid. Just enough so I can take care of them too. They’re a bit of a handful, as I’m sure you’ve no doubt figured out by now,” you whip your head to scowl at him and heatedly shout muffled curses at him, “Heh. My bad, kitten, but it’s true. The trouble your presence kicks up is a lot to handle, even for a pro.” You feel your face heat up in embarrassment at his words. Not that it wasn’t obvious before, but it’s safe to say he is infected as well.

“Plus, what will you do when you can’t control the rest of the students? You and I both know that your quirk doesn’t last forever, and your control is slowly dwindling away, even as we speak. I could help you fend them off, if it comes to it.” Shouta observed. He has a natural way of being extremely persuasive, doesn’t he?

Shinsou isn’t exactly thrilled to give you up, he’d much rather stake his claim on you by himself. His company should be more than enough to fill your time! He doesn’t want time with you to be shared with others he doesn’t approve of. Though…Aizawa isn’t exactly untrustworthy. Hitoshi definitely trusts him more than someone as hazardous as Bakugo, or as miserable to be around as Monoma. He’s a great teacher, even though he’s kind of a hardass. Someone he looks up to. Maybe they could give it a shot? After all, if it doesn’t work out, there’s still plenty of Purge time left for him to find somewhere else to hide and drag you off to when Aizawa isn’t looking.

“Okay. We’ll give your idea a go.” Shinsou begrudgingly complied.

“Good choice, kid.” Aizawa’s lips twitch upward into a minuscule grin. Yet again, your own fate is taken away from you as the two of them close in, grasp hands, and shake to signify the agreement.

“Ooohhh~! What a touching truce, cuties~,” a sugary-sweet voice curls around the boys’ conversation like a hazy morning fog.

“Huh—!” Shinsou isn’t fast enough to react to the intruder as he feels all his senses numb. A dreadfully sweet smell, the same kind of sugary tang that was laced throughout the woman’s voice, invades his nose. It should be disgusting, it should make him sick to his stomach, but the candied scent is nothing short of divine. It’s like nothing he's ever smelled before. It honestly makes him want to inhale more. Which is an action he subconsciously commits, sealing his fate. Shinsou’s legs grow wobbly as he starts to lose feeling all over his body. As unpleasant as he wants it to feel, as he begs it to feel, all he can recognize is a cozy warmth clouding his better judgment. Through the mental and physical struggle, he remembers you’re still sitting prettily in his swiftly weakening arms. He panics, afraid he’s going to, or that he has already dropped you. He glances down.

Well…you used to be there. You’re not anymore.

Shinsou groans, crashing to his knees. He scans the surrounding floor, looking for any trace of you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Good news is he didn’t drop you like an idiot. Bad news is someone else has their disgusting hands all over you. That thought makes him want to pick off his own flesh cell by cell, but there’s nothing he can do except lay on the ground and reluctantly drift in and out of consciousness.

“Too bad you’re not as lovely as our sweetheart here. Otherwise, you’d be my plaything too~,” the woman giggles, “But, oh well. Pleasant dream, honey~,” she coos at the purple-haired boy. You’re beyond floored at how quickly Shinsou was subdued, considering the quick work he made of the other students. Curious as ever, you shot your head back and forth to identify who stole the show this time.

The owner of the saccharine voice turned out to be none other than Midnight, your art history and overly-sexual pro hero mentor. She giggles to herself, watching her prey twitch and squirm in retaliation against her quirk on the floor, “While struggling normally is my favorite part of the foreplay, I wouldn’t advise it this time, dear~. Somnambulist isn’t easy to win against. It’s a much more potent sleep agent than your little quirk could ever dream of being.”

“Love that energy, Midnight! Smooth work,” a boisterous voice slices through your eardrums. You cringe at the volume, recognizing that borderline shriek. The person who is now capturing your body is Present Mic! What the hell are all three of your teachers doing here?! Shouldn’t they be like normal people and hide from the Purge?

As if reading your mind, Aizawa coughs to grab his coworkers’ attention, “That was completely unnecessary of you two. A little excessive too. I told you both I could handle the situation on my own. What’re you doing here?”

“Jeez! So cold!” Mic’s voice danced up and down in pitch, “Don’t be so frosty with us, Eraser! We just wanted to help!”

“Yes,” Midnight purred, the click click of her skyscraper-length stilettos stabbing the shellacked ground echoed across the rubble-covered floor, “you think us so shallow! You act as if we thought you couldn’t take care of this, dear. All we believed was it’s nice to have some support on the field, yes~?”

Aizawa, always as sharp as a knife, caught onto their plan effortlessly, “You two just couldn’t wait to get your grubby hands on them, could you?” The two opposing teachers choked on the air in their lungs as he saw through their lies. They fumbled the next few words that streamed out of their mouths, trying desperately through the stutters to justify their cause and deter his wit.

“I see. Hmm…whatever. Either way, you two never fail to overdo it,” Aizawa grumbles to himself, his chin sinking further into the comfort of his scarf, “I guess I’ll need some assistance dealing with the rest of my students over there. They won’t remain hypnotized for much longer now that Shinsou’s down—I’d rather not have to start a physical fight when there’s no need.”

“Oooh~,” Midnight purred, slinking over to the slowly reawakening crowd, “leave this to me, loves~!” The woman proceeded to unleash another plum of her drunkening quirk right as the class snapped out of their haze. You watched as they fell one by one to the floor in sudden exhaustion. Even the strong-willed one couldn’t escape the fate of her noxious gas, dropping limply to the floor in a dreamless slumber.

“Aww, they’re so sweet when they’re not getting in our way.” Mic snickered.

“Mic. Watch it,” Aizawa’s laid-back indifference swiftly shifted into his scary steely gaze as he warned his rambunctious coworker to stop his prattling.

“Whaaaat~??? You gotta admit, your hooligans sure made our night a lot harder!” Hizashi pouted in frustration.

‘When am I gonna catch a break from these…these…wait. What…the…,’ your thoughts slowly lose their path in your head, your mind-numbing and slipping away from coherent ideas. Your limbs feel like the thickest cement in the world when you try to move them. It’s too tough, too much work—and sleeping sounds like a fantastic idea. You’re just so tired. You start to heave for oxygen as if your lungs can never get enough air inside of them. You’re trying so hard to stay awake because you know in the back of your brain as delicious as stopping your fighting to rest sounds, something doesn’t feel right. You can’t remember why. Eventually, it becomes too difficult to keep your head up on your own, so you rest it against Mic’s open shoulder.

Hizashi immediately stops bickering against the stoic man in front of him as he feels your head plop onto his shoulder. Now that his attention is drawn back to you, he realizes you weren’t squirming around as much as he’d expected you to. He knows even past the lingering virus flooding his veins you wouldn’t give in to their advances so easily—as nice as that would have been—so he devotes all his attention to your slumped frame.

“Hey, you alright, doll?” he cranes his head down to catch your unfocused eyes. He jostles the shoulder you were resting on a bit, trying to reel you back from wherever your mind had floated off to, and that seemed to help a little. You tried to talk, but the gag prevented any words from coming out. Catching the barrier, he beckoned his partner in crime over with a quick tilt of his head and a quiet, “Help me get this thing off their mouth, Shouta.”

Without hesitation, your concerned homeroom teacher stepped over and peeled off the tape as gently as he could. Your mouth now freed, you let out an unconscious whine of relief, showing a small bit of happiness at having some bit of freedom back.

“What did you say, sweets?” Mic pressed yet again.

“Mmhn…I…uhm…mmm…nnh,” you mindlessly babbled in a soft voice.

“Come on, (Y/N). How do you feel right now?” Aizawa coaxed, his worry over you hiking higher at your unresponsiveness.

“Hmmm…just…tired…I think…mnnn,” Your eyes couldn’t stay open. They opted to flutter close every time no matter how much Mic shimmed around in an attempt to keep you conscious.

“Tired. Hizashi—Midnight’s quirk.” Aizawa said as he caught Hizashi’s fear-filled gaze. Both of their anxiety floated back down at the deduction. You must’ve breathed in too much of the secondhand smoke of the pro hero’s quirk. After all, it is quite potent against those who haven’t experienced it much before. Mic’s jostling changed into more of a rocking motion, trying to lull you further into that blissful rest.

“Ohhhh. Honeycakes! That’s okay—it’s perfectly fine if you need some rest. It’s been a tough day for our snuggle bunny,” he uttered, affectionately nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

“I heard you say my name, Eraser. What’s…oh!” Midnight stopped her sentence when her eyes fell on you. Then, all she could do was squeal at the sight of your sleepy state. She shoved Aizawa out of the way, bent down to your level, and squeezed herself as close to you as she could. She was giggling and chirping in delight at how “adorable” and “absolutely, irresistibly, undeniably cute” you were.

“Awwwwhn~~~!!!” her voice curled up in pitch, her fingers smoothing your loose hairs behind your ear and stroking down your warm cheek, “You are just the sweetest lil’ thing~!! Mommy’s precious angel~. What’s happened, Zashi?” Midnight tilted her gaze up to the blond for an explanation.

He grinned, “Just breathed too much of your quirk in, s’all.”

Midnight loftily snickered, “I see. Glad we were here to take care of them!” In all honesty, she’s beyond pleased that out of any one of her coworkers, her quirk affected you the most. In a way, she saw that as she had the most influence on you—or, in other words, the most power over you. In her eyes, she saw it as you giving yourself to her. Willingly and unafraid. Midnight’s heart is cartwheeling and running laps because she sees this as you caring about her so much that you’d serve her in such a magnificent way. She could eat you up and still be searching for seconds. You’re just perfect for her in every way, shape, and form. Aizawa’s nagging drags her out of her less than innocent desires over you filling her head.

“You need to be more careful about how much of your quirk you release in the future, Midnight.” Aizawa scolds, but scorn is practically nonexistent in his voice. It’s hard to be angry at the effects you’ve been put under when the outcome makes you look so helplessly cute. He’d never admit it, but he’s envious of her quirk, when it can turn you so easily into this version of yourself. The dilated, doe-eyed look your eyes hold as they drift up to see him makes the words die a little in his throat. Perhaps the lecture he was going to give her can wait a little.

“Ahh, I will, Eraserhead. But first, we should head off for that safe spot we arranged with the others.” Midnight commented towards the men while still keening over your dopey state.

“W…Wait,” you grumbled out in a meek voice, “noo…no. I d-don’t…,” your words fell off into babbling mumbles again. It was torture to try and evade her quirk’s effects like this, but you were steadfast in wanting to fight. To flee their unwanted embrace and be alone. But all they did was coo at your brave efforts. Oh, they knew just the perfect things to say to make you feel like you were a mere baby to them. How inadvertently insulting.

“Ssh shh shh~. Awh, I know, honey~. You just feel so tired~,” Midnight sang in a baby-talk tone of voice, brushing the top of your head with the palm of her hand. It was weird, you couldn’t figure out if she saw you as her child or prey. Maybe both. That scares you. Maybe you don’t want to find out any more.

“Don’t worry, sweetie! We’ve got you,” though less scary than the woman currently pinning you, Mic’s mischievous lilt of tone didn’t skate by your observative nature. His eyes seem…darker than when you’d looked at them during one of his happy-go-lucky lectures. Like he was hiding the truth of his words behind a cobweb-like veil of deceit. In fact, Mic was resembling a conniving spider—which made you the ditzy butterfly falling for his web of a trap.

Lethargic and thoroughly worn out from both her quirk and all the running you’ve done, you finally give up. Your body feels warm and tingly, making sleep all the easier to give in to. As darkness flooded your vision and your consciousness finally dove away, Aizawa’s voice filled your ears, “See you soon, (Y/N).”

~ Timeskip ~

Sick. That’s all you felt as the darkness that consumed your thoughts and vision slowly faded. Sick to your stomach. Aching all over. You felt like you were a flimsy shirt thrown into a clothes dryer and left to spin over and over again for three cycles too long.

You tilted your head a bit and promptly groaned at the wave of nausea that swamped your brain. Such a subtle movement caused your whole world to crash sideways into an abysmal painscape. It was like you were zipping around on the shittiest, most rickety roller coaster you’d ever rode. You wanted nothing more than to get off.

All this to say—ow. What the fuck, brain? Why do you hurt me so? That’s all your mind could conjure up at the moment—insults to your own organs—because it hurts too much to think rationally. That was one hell of a shitty rest. It has to be one of the top five worst naps you’ve ever taken. You’ll have to whine about it to Denki after class today, maybe you’ll get some sympathy candy for your brave efforts. Denki…why does it feel like something important happened that he was a part of? Hmm…you can’t put your finger on it right now. Everything’s too drowsy at the moment for logic to be considered. Your eyes are still begrudgingly shut as you twist your torso around, trying to get comfortable again.

That’s the moment you started to become more aware of the outside world around you. Noises of chatter hung in the air like a nagging mosquito. The more you paid attention to the continuous sounds, the more irritating they became. Who was talking so damn much, and why were they making it your problem? Couldn’t they see you were a sick person in need of some goddamn peace and quiet? But, that’s just Class 3-A life, you suppose. None of them ever know when to shut the fuck up. Well, this time, they’d learn! They’d get a piece of your “hungover” mind.

“Oi…,” you grunted out, a snarl vehemently leaking into your tone, “Can’t you guys pipe down?! I’m sorta in the middle of trying to sleep off a nasty headache.”

Maybe your words stung the culprits a bit too much as you heard the room slow to a deathlike silence. No blistering insults were flung back at you from the resident hellhound of Class 3-A Bakugou, no chortles from the jokesters of the bunch, no profuse apologies from the worrywarts—nothing. Just…silence. I mean, you guess that’s the result you wanted; but the tense atmosphere you created is rapidly making you regret your flippant decision.

The encroaching fear made your mind real back to the very moment you woke up. You began rational plotting out the questions that swarmed your mind like hornets to their nest. Wait, where were you again? What time is it? Why do you feel so ill? Why can’t your brain remember what the date is? Something really important was happening before you passed out related to time…passed out. Hold on—that’s right, you passed out!

What the fuck.

You passed out due to what—no…due to who?

Unease finally getting the better of you, you peeped up again, but presenting a much meeker tone this time, “U-Um…guys? Look, I’m…God, I’m sorry for lashing out. I just—my head hurts like hell, I’m sore all over my everywhere, and I don’t know what’s—haannhh…ow, ow, ouch.” As you spewed out the poorly constructed apology, you steadily sat up from whatever hard surface you’d been resting on. The stiff rest stop made you all that more unnerved; it sort of felt like you were on a metal autopsy table. Cold and jarring. As if you were a poor little frog being dissected for all the insatiably curious students to see. It made you want to be swallowed whole by the floor just to escape the distress of the situation. God damnit, why is it still so hard to open your eyes?! They felt like the heaviest slab of lead welded over your eyelids. You forced them open.

Overlooking the blurriness of your vision, you could immediately tell by the general shape of the people standing in front of you that you weren’t in the presence of your beloved classmates like you thought you were.

There were multiple people in the darkened room, all with varying heights and sizes. There weren’t twenty people like how many there are in your class; their numbers were closer to ten or so. Plus, the colors of their outfits didn’t match with your friends’ hero suits you’d come to be extremely familiar with. However, you did recognize the colors and remembered who they belonged to. The answer chilled you to the bone.

You didn’t speak up again in the presence of most, if not all of, your mentors. Yes, your mentors. The adults you interacted with practically every day; who taught you every tactic you knew, who helped you to become a capable hero in the pro world. In fact, you didn’t just not talk, you slumped into yourself a bit. You were afraid. Scratch that—you were beyond afraid. You’d seen, and fought, firsthand against their wrath before. You’ve watched their fights broadcasted on the television, through shaky personally caught videos on the Internet posted by petrified civilians. You’ve worked alongside a few of them through missions and treacherous situations. Hell, you actually battle against one for the right to earn your hero license! That was a tough day, but you’d made it by the skin of your teeth—more than likely only winning because of the unimaginably heavy weights that shackled them as handicaps. In short, they were barbaric beasts on the field. Now…you’re face-to-face with their rage.

Let’s all send a brief prayer for yourself. Maybe your death will be swift and your afterlife pleasant if you beg hard enough.

“My, my, my~,” a sultry voice sang in your right ear, making you shriek at the intrusion of your personal bubble, “such a naughty-mouthed little pet~! Tell me, what brute taught you to speak to your superiors in such a disrespectful way?” It was Midnight again. She was always one to breach your boundaries, whether you wanted her to or not.

She cupped your jaw with one of her hands, pinching and squeezing your gooey cheeks with the other for her pleasure, “Ooooh, precious! How’s your whittle head~?” she cooed while smushing. She wiped away a small bit of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth, making you feel that much more like a ditzy baby. The way she played with you really did remind you of a child messing around with a delicious treat of springy mochi. Perhaps that was what you were to the ravenous woman, a delicacy to be devoured whole. You shivered in fear again.

Another person from across the room let out a high-pitched whistle, one that indicated astonishment or feeling impressed, “Wow! Brat’s got some spunk to ‘em! Good to know they haven’t switched up since we last spoke.” You weren’t as familiar with that voice as you were with your homeroom teachers, but it did strike a chord in your memory. Their youthful cheer didn’t resemble the dread-filled boredom Aizawa’s held, but they didn’t sound crude enough to be another student. Your vision clearing further was the only thing that gave their mystery identity away. It was Power Loader! It feels like forever since the two of you even acknowledged one another. Either way, he’s here now and fully decked out in his hero gear. The heavy equipment gave you a unique foreboding feeling that his abilities weren’t just all that meets the eye.

“Midnight, step aside, please.” A mellow voice takes control of the conversation. Midnight looks over her shoulder in disdain, as if the very notion of her being politely asked to leave your side is the most disrespectful thing someone could have asked her to do, but it seems that whoever popped the question meant real business. She stepped aside with a huff of frustration, mumbling under her breath curses, and something along the lines of ‘the gall’.

Once she moved, the requester hopped onto the table where you sat. They pushed into your personal space as well. You opted to lean back as much as the encroacher would allow you. From the astronaut-resembling helmet that donned their head and the puffy jacket they wore, you came to the obvious conclusion that this was 13, another member of the faculty here at UA.

She moved your head—left to right, up and down, and in a full circle. She checked all around the front of your body, and basically anywhere that you allowed her to get close to. 13 looked back deeply into your eyes before twisting back to face the bunch, “They don’t appear to be physically hurt on the outside. No scrapes, cuts, sprains, or anything broken. All that I could really deduct was their dilated pupils, meaning the effects of Somnambulist are still present,” 13 whirled forward to you, “Feeling at all hazy, woozy, or tired, (Y/N)?”

You simply stared back at the expressionless black mask 13 wore. You didn’t know what to say—half because you were uncomfortable at how close she was, and half because you were still bracing yourself to get your ass beat by the less merciful of the teachers. Your mind is drawing to blanks as you’re frozen with your jaw left hanging open.

“(Y/N)?” 13 snaps her fingers in front of your face, semi-dragging you out of your tizzy, “Hello? How are you feeling, dear?”

Ignoring the uncalled-for nickname, you wobbled your head about to snap out of whatever stupor you were stuck in, “Aaaah…um…good. I think. Still…vision’s still a bit blurry, head’s kinda fuzzy, but it’s okay. I can’t really feel my legs yet, I guess.” You tried kicking your feet back and forth, and while you could see them sway, you didn’t feel the sensation of your tendons pulling the limbs.

“Alright, that’s okay.” 13 dismounts the desk to face the crowd, “They’ll be fine. Just give their system time to recover from the grogginess. Next time, Midnight, go easier with how much of your toxins you release! They could’ve gotten severely hurt if they inhaled too much.” 13 scolds the tall woman.

Midnight scoffs, “Ugh! Why, I would never intentionally hurt my love bug like that! I swear, you act like I haven’t been controlling my quirk for my whole life!”

“Midnight, we have to set an example for our students, and lying isn’t how we do that. You should acknowledge you do go overboard sometimes,” craggy words tumbled through Midnight’s attempt to save her ass. Off to her side is the stony fortress of a hero, Cementoss, the one who spoke against her. While he is a man (or is he a rock? You’re not too sure even after all these years being a student under him) of few words, he does have the occasional snarky comeback in his vocabulary when he isn’t prattling off haikus and other unheard of analogies for life’s troubles you haven’t heard before. You’re pretty sure that half of what he says is made up on the spot, and you’ve occasionally tested how far you could push his knowledge before by asking him tough questions like “What is the meaning of life?” or “How did the universe come into being?”.

Before Midnight could pulverize the stone man into pebbles, the final guest you could see hanging in the back of the room piped up, “Can we please stop fumbling around like nimrods and get back to the matter at hand?” Inky, sludgy, and methodical in his dialect, it was no shock that its owner was the shadowy hero known to you as Ectoplasm. You’d interacted with him even less than the others, but you weren’t oblivious to his strength. You’d seen the fight between Tsu and Tokoyami against this predator, and you are happy to admit that he wasn’t your enemy on the field that day.

After briefly scanning the room once more, it seemed that everyone who was there had spoken up. Well, except for Aizawa and Present Mic, they seemed to be having a private conversation with themselves. Glances they threw in your direction, no matter how embarrassingly obvious Mic was being or the tenuousness of Aizawa’s, made it hard to ignore their scalding stares. It was borderline disturbing to see Mic so stationary. You wished he’d stop freaking you out and start yelling in your face like he always does. At least that would be one thing that hadn’t changed with the Purge.

“Precisely. Where were we? Please remind us, Ectoplasm.” Cementoss, equally over the distractions going on, encouraged the conversation forward.

“We were talking about our options. What to do for the rest of the Purge. How to proceed with the plan.” he spoke as if it was the most obvious thing that could have been explained. Plan? What plan was he talking about?

“‘Listen, we’ve gone ‘round and ‘round with these ideas for over an hour now,” HUH?!?! EXCUSE YOU, BUT WHAT DID HE SAY?! There was no time to stop their conversation to ask if Power Loader was or wasn’t exaggerating the time that had passed as he pushed on, “Why can’t we just go? I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this room.”

“What, and storm out here with no strategy? Yeah, that’s the best idea we’ve heard tonight.” Aizawa finally tossed his opinion into the ring and—surprise, surprise—it’s another gripe.

“We do have a plan—and a solid one at that! I just said it’s all we’ve been discussing ever since we stepped foot into this bloody room!” Power accused.

“No,” 13 cut in, “the plan you’re talking about is the one we’ve fine-tuned to get out of the school. What Eraser’s referring to is what we’re going to do once we leave the school grounds.” She stepped over to you while giving her speech and wipes your face down with a damp, cool towel. You’re not sure where she dispensed it from, but you supposed that since she specializes in search and rescue missions, she’s bound to have supplies of the like to help in stressful situations built into her hero suit.

“Easy! We run and gun our way out until we find a safe spot! A simply perfect plan. Okay? Let’s go.” Power said with finality.

“For being a seasoned pro, you’re much too antsy. You’re rushing this operation. If you keep sprinting through the important discussions, there will be major consequences.” Cementoss threatened. Power scoffed at the man’s slightly pretentious behavior.

“Think about it,” 13 tried to reason, “There are hundreds of pro heroes out there. Half infected, half not—give or take a handful. For however many pros around out there, there are at least six times as many civilians out there who are either running for their freedom or others who are trying to take that from their darlings. It is too risky to bring them out into a world like that.” Them? Hold on, do they mean you?! No way in hell are you being taken out into the shit storm that the big city has become! You’ve seen how the Purge demolishes the city in years prior. You saw what the news predicted it would be like tonight. Chaos. Pure chaos filled with dangerous, virus-infected people and villains simply trashing the place because they are able. You came into the school to seek shelter in one of the safe rooms to avoid the city, and they want to bring you into it? They can’t do this to you! Have they completely lost it?

Well, you knew that much, but still!

“He’s right, though,” Present Mic finally spoke up from his unusual voicelessness, “We can’t stay here all night waiting for some miracle to spring up. We’ve gotta take some action.” His shoulders buckled inward to show his agitation.

“And no one is saying that we will stay, Mic.” Cement’s sensible attitude never fails to shine through the stress of a tough discussion.

“But you are saying that. You know it…because you’re afraid. We all are afraid.” Mic grabbed everyone's attention because of how softly his words came out.

“I mean, we all know who exactly is out there,” Mic somberly stood and walked over to your side. You wanted to shimmy away from how close he got, but you chose to sit still to hear what else he had to say, “It’s not an if or maybe situation—he is looking for them. Maybe staying in the school has some perks. At least here he can’t get to them without breaking down a few thick walls.” At Mic’s dreadful outlook, everyone’s prepared responses fell into stifling silence. Who is he talking about? Why do you feel a shiver scaling up your spine at the faceless adversary? All this anticipation is going to make you go insane for real this time.

“It’s true. But UA isn’t safe either. We’re not alone and we aren’t the only ones in this building who’re interested in them. Those confounding kids of yours are still around, Aizawa.” Ectoplasm countered. Finally finding the place in the conversation where you can speak, you took your chance.

“Are you talking about the rest of my class?” you breathed out. The teachers spun their heads to give you their full attention. It creeped you out—their devotion to hearing you speak as if it was gospel—but you guess this virus is handy when you need to grab the attention of a bustling room.

“Glad you can still find your voice, sweets.” Mic praised you with a gentle pat on the top of your head. A total switch up from his gloomy personality just prior.

“And, yes, we are.” Ectoplasm sighed, sending one of his clones to your side. The clone didn’t do much except lay their hand on your head and brush your hair back, “They've proven to be quite…driven in their resolve to keep you by their sides.”

“Meaning they’re being a real pain in our—,” Mic’s interrupted by Aizawa’s scarf strangling the bottom half of his face to cease the loud man’s babbling.

“Hmmn, you guys take everything so personally,” Midnight bemoaned, propping her spike-heeled shoes against the side of one of the many desks around, “the children are just playing together, ‘is all! In fact, they’re making this night much more fun for me hehe~.” You cringed, and the only word running through your mind was ‘creepy.’

“Yes. Be kind, Mic. They haven’t been a bother for some time now.” Cementoss spoke with a grateful tone of voice.

“Well, it’s no wonder they haven’t been.” Power Loader huffed while resting his body back onto a nearby table.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You shifted up further to give the conversation your full attention. Once you were up, a slight tightness on your wrists captured your distracted brain. You glanced down and saw binding on your wrists. They were bound with tape. Tape…oh! That’s right! You were taped up by Sero before this shit show happened! You scanned your body up and down and didn’t see any of his tape around anything but your hands. It’s gone from your mouth too since you can speak to the teachers. You guess you’re thankful that they at least gave you the freedom to wiggle your legs around. Nonetheless, you’re still unforgivable-level mad at them for being dicks and holding you hostage.

“He means that ever since Shinsou caught them under his hypnosis, and Midnight leaked her Somnambulist to put them under, they’ve been sound asleep in the gymnasium.” Ectoplasm’s words curl up like a snake wrapping around its helpless prey. You feel less comforted by Ecto’s clone lovingly stroking your head now. That means no one else has been looking for you ever since Aizawa, Mic, and Midnight took you. Goody gumdrops.

“Yea’,” a new, twangy voice plucks into the conversation, “and it seems they ain’t rearin’ up again for some time.” It echoed from the entrance of the room a few feet ahead of your spot by the windows, so you craned your neck to the side to see past the teachers blocking the way.

His foreign accent was a big hint, but if there was any confusion as to who exactly was speaking, his masked appearance confirmed his identity. Snipe was perched against the door frame, slacked back against the wooden frame, and bending his knee to rest one of his spurred cowboy boots on the frame as well. Since when did he get there? You don’t recall seeing him when you scanned the room earlier. What was even more surprising was that on the other side of the doorframe rested Vlad King, Class 3-B’s homeroom teacher. You watched him side-eye his coworkers and, opposite to the rest, he stayed silent. Quiet, analytical. You haven’t interacted with him as much as you have with the others since he’s not one of your main teachers, but you’re certain from the way he and Aizawa have this sort of one-sided rivalry going on between them that he’s not one to be taken lightly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” barked Present Mic, “what are you two doing in here? You’re supposed to be guarding the door!”

“We decided to come in when we heard you lot yappin’. Wanted to see if our blossom was alright.” Okay, these corny nicknames were getting to be a little much—and it was becoming hard to not laugh at them when Snipe’s Western country-ass voice tried to say it so seriously.

“Yeah, right. You just wanted to see them.” Power Loader grumbled on his lonesome. Jealous much?

“Great, the peanut gallery’s all here.” you chuckled to yourself. Honestly, it was a smartass remark that was only meant for your ears to hear, but you should’ve known better than to mutter in the presence of such high-profile, analytical, pro heroes.

“Watch your tone, (L/N). I’ve taught you better than to speak to your superiors like that.” Aizawa’s steely gaze came to life, an intimidating red glow directly pointed your way. His mop of bushy, black hair billowing up to dangle in midair. It drifted about like a bed of kelp swaying with the brush of the ocean’s currents. All the built-up energy you didn’t realize was coursing through your veins came to a staggering halt, The strength permeating your limbs immediately drained. You’ve been under the influence of Aizawa’s quirk before when you were caught in the mix of his frustrations at the pranksters of your class, so this wasn’t an unexplored feeling, but it was still jarring to be stripped of all your powers you so flippantly take for granted.

As you looked around, you realized your statement was wrong—not all of the teachers were there. Not apologizing for telling the truth, you continued your comments as though Aizawa had never threatened you, “Ixnay that—not everyone's here. Where’s the rest of them?” Aizawa sighed and released you from the hold of his power when he realized you were simply ignoring his wrath. Honestly? He tips his hat to you for the response. Avoiding confrontation is sometimes the best course of action.

“Huh? Oh! Ha ha, you’re so clever! We brought it up briefly to the other staff members but—,” Power Loader had begun, but he was soon interrupted.

“They either had no interest or were busy with other plans for the Purge.” Vlad finally spoke up from his dark corner. Right, you remember why you don’t speak to him all that often. He scared the living shit out of you. At least you can have a somewhat decent conversation with Aizawa. With Vlad King, it’s always cold-shoulders and overdramatic frustration to simple questions you ask him. Those brief few words reeked such deadly poison, as if saying that anyone could ignore you was a crime against humanity. His facial expression showed his irritation, a frown stretching down his worn features and a frustrated crinkle cut between his eyebrows.

“Thanks. I was in the middle of getting to that.” Power snarked at the behemoth hero.

“We asked All Might if he wanted to come along with us,” 13 chirped, “but he declined as well. We don’t know exactly where he is, but he’s around.”

“Yeah! Not to mention how he responded! Something like,” Mic made his voice stretch lower into his register with a profound, macho gusto, and a large smile—an All Might smile—grew on his lips, ""HA HA! I appreciate the offer, friends, but I will be alright on my own! Good luck to you! I am off!”, and ran off to who knows where. Weird!”

“You guys never let me say the important parts of the stories.” Power scowled to himself.

“Gotcha,” you acknowledged the length of explanation, “So…what happens now?” you prodded.

“Now,” Midnight coos at a distance that is yet again too close for comfort, “we get to have fun with you~.”

“WHAT?! I’m not some class pet. Find a guinea pig somewhere else!” you wriggled away from the dastardly woman.

“Endearing how much control you think you have over the situation,” Aizawa smirked. You hated his comfort in the idea of a fictional complacency, one that was only caused by your own fear of speaking against them, “Stop playing naive, (L/N).”

In an effort to distract yourself from his stare, you pressed, “What’s the big plan after all this then?”

“After what, dearest?” Midnight mused. She reached a hand to your hair and softly massaged your shoulders. Quite done with the games they played, you shook her lingering touches off.

“After the Purge is over. What do you plan to do with me?” You wanted to add a sassy ‘obviously’ somewhere in that question, but you held your tongue for now. We’ll see how long that lasts.

“Sweetie~, we plan to have you as ours!” Midnight purred, circling around you like a beast going in for the kill. You rolled your eyes—how vexing can this woman be?

“Wow! That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh.” You threw out a half-assed pity laugh for the pro. You looked at the other pros for some kind of confirmation that Midnight was just being her usual lofty self, but when no comforting gaze reached your eyes, you felt your grin crumble.

“Eh…heh. Alright, that’s how we’re playing this. All the unfunny jokes aside—Hell freaking NO am I letting you lot take me anywhere. I’m not going willingly! I kick, I scream, and I do bite. I’m feral, bitc—,” You managed to squirm hard enough that you actually broke away from whoever was holding you the tightest in the ball of limbs. You slid off the glossy table and slunk back a few feet. It was just spacious enough for you to finally get a deep breath in from the overwhelming physical affection but you were nowhere near a safe distance from the psychos of UA.

“Willingly isn’t an issue. Plenty of us have quirks that can make you submit easily. Resistance will only produce failure for you. I don’t want to be forced to hurt your miniscule feelings.” Vlad gruffed out. He truly reminded you of an English bulldog—grumpy and hard-headed to the extreme.

“Oh, be sweeter, Vlad! Don’t scare the poor thing before we’ve had our fun.” 13 tried to reason with the ice-cold man.

“I am being sweet.” Vlad defended.

“No, you’re being a wet blanket,” Mic advised with a casual whistle.

“Shut up.” The white-haired man huffed out a pointed wind of air. With tusks as sharp as nails protruding out of his mouth, harsh huffs of breath that escaped his nose, and rising anger visibly seeping from his form, it made the image of him in your mind morph from cute, grumpy bulldog to a ravenous warthog.

“No, you shut up!” Power Loader lept on the chance to start bickering with Vlad King as he was still irritated at him for stealing his thunder.

“Girls, girls! You’re both pretty. Now, can we please get back to the much more pleasant person of interest?” Midnight tried to get the boys to back off, but her joke only made them that much more infuriated.

“Who’re you calling pretty?!” Vlad whipped his head over to the purple-haired sex fiend.

“Fix your words, Midnight, or I’ll give you something to be sorry for.” Vlad reared in, sneering at the woman something fierce.

“Here we go,” Aizawa muttered while shrinking further into his tall scarf tower.

“Nice one, Nemuri.” Hizashi bumped her with his elbow.

“I apologize…for you being a whiny BITCH!” You could practically see the overexaggerated sweat drop slip down the rest of the teachers’ heads as the beast of a man went off the rails from Midnight’s claim. He started stomping around, bellowing and nearly tossed a table across the room. You stood there and just…watched the man go from a professional, stoic, respectable instructor to a crybaby throwing the most dangerous tantrum known to mankind.

Guess he didn’t appreciate being called pretty.

Would he have preferred gorgeous?

That joke, while absolutely hilarious and should have been told for at least someone to hear its magnificence, you held in your throat so you didn’t get bitch slapped by a heavy office chair and receive a one-way ticket, all-expense-paid trip to God’s doorstep. You used the teacher’s being distracted with trying to calm the raging boarman down as an opportunity to scan for available exits. They were currently blocking the only door in or out, so that way out was an absolute no-go. You looked behind you and saw another door, but it didn’t look like it would provide a fruitful escape. By process of elimination, it would most likely be another closet that had no exit—and you DID NOT want to be stuck in one of those again. It was a miracle that the one earlier tonight had one! You do not want to try your luck again with much more threatening opponents in your way.

Inspecting further, there didn’t appear to be any other doors around to scamper out of. The last option you had was the large pane windows facing the outside, normally providing you with quite a beautiful bird’s eye view of the city. While it was an escape route, the task of escaping after exiting would be less than ideal. You were currently at least six storeys off of the ground, and you couldn’t guarantee that your quirk would save you from that high of a drop. Plus, the roof was still at least a few floors upwards, so you couldn’t hang out of the window and easily grab a railing. Not that you’d be sneaky enough to do that without alerting the bickering party of adults in front of you. You weren’t sure where else you could turn to avoid a serious temper tantrum.

Shatter.

A window to the side of where you were standing abruptly splintered away. A rush of the chilled night air flooded the room with one thorough sweep. The infiltration was not caused by the window simply breaking due to a strong gust of wind or a tree branch breaking the surface. No—it turned out to be a rather unwelcome intruder.

“Heyo~,” a certain bombshell blond’s lilting tone filled the thick tension in the boardroom. Your eyes zeroed in on the hero’s iconic ruby-red wings and instantly knew who it was. Hawks! You’d seen him in the field before from a distance, even captured his attention for long enough to have a brief conversation. A certain twist in your chest wrung out the breath filling your lungs when you thought about his suave nature that day.

You were there with your three main boys the day you’d met Hawks. You had just started working at Endeavor’s agency because of the generous offer provided to you by Todoroki during the Holiday party. It was certainly kind of him to extend his hand to you, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You tackled him in a hug, and you watched obliviously how he nearly short-circuited at the affection. Though the day you all met up to head off, Bakugou had been acting a little salty around Shoto that afternoon after discovering that he had reached out to you too to join them, but you figured it was just usual Bakugou. Always waking up on the angry side of the bed. Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell you it’s because none of them wanted to make fools of themselves in front of you. Him especially. You are quite oblivious to the “more-than-just-friends” affection they had for you, but Deku was happy keeping it that way. After a bit, the four of you had settled in together and met Shoto’s father.

No thanks to Bakugou’s “stellar” introduction with the pro, Endeavor had put his foot down to deny taking on other interns, other than his own son. Thankfully, hero work is never finished, as a villain attacked then and there. All of you sprung into action despite Endeavor’s denial, and that is when you saw it. Or, rather, him. Red spears descending from the sky like Valkyries swooping in to protect the weak. You saw soon enough that these weren’t spears, they were feathers. The winged hero, Hawks, aided Endeavor in taking down the crazed terrorizer effortlessly. No hesitancy or mercy. Not so much as a bead of sweat lining his forehead either. After recuperating, you and Izuku practically tackled the man in an effort to meet him.

In the staggeringly casual meeting, he was pleased to say he already knew about you from your close friend, Tokoyami. However, he pretty much overlooked the green-haired puffball as he stuck you down with his unnerving amber pools. Hawks suavely shared that he was especially excited to meet you specifically. We’re these most likely only sugar-coated words to get your heart racing for the notorious playboy? Rationally, absolutely. His ego knew no bounds—he’d do anything to get the fans swooning for his flippant affections. Yet, you fell for it nonetheless. You hopelessly played the perfect giddy fan as you devoured all his teasing remarks, his infatuation with your quirk, and his cocky winks. A peck of his lips strategically gifted to the back of your hand was given to no doubt solidify a good relationship, but you nearly passed out. You gushed at the attention before, and you probably would again. You were no different from any faces in his crowd of fans that he interacted with. Or so you thought.

He soon took off after meeting with Bakugou and Shoto briefly. You’d geeked out about the interaction afterwards to the boys. An blatant envy to Hawks’ ease at impressing the masses, you as well now included, made them stumble at their advances. Izuku buried his own jealousy at the hero by directing your attention back to what the rest of the day had planned, and it distracted him from the negative feelings too, thankfully. Shoto had crossed his arms and stood as a silent watcher to walk alongside you. You did catch that he was standing rather close to you. Bakugou only spat insult after insult about the bird brain and the hot-headed waste of a father, hoping that tarnishing the memory of Hawks in your mind would get your mind off of that loser and onto him. He soon cooled off, and became a bodyguard beside you, like Shoto, mumbling to himself about how “pointless” it was to chat with the likes of that douche.

You knew that this meeting was no accident. Hopefully, the hero is here to save you from this awful nightmare. Though, he didn’t show up alone.

“Hawks,” Snipe grumbled a rugged greeting, quite obviously ticked off that the snarky bastard was ruining their sanctuary, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, not here for any particular reason. Flyin’ around, stopping to smell the roses…,” he lolled his head to look right at you, a devilish smirk lining his strikingly handsome face.

“Inspecting suspicious activity in the area.” A velvety smooth voice strikes up from behind you. You jump and whip your head to the side to see the culprit. Laying a gentle, yet comforting, grip on your shoulder was the famous Rabbit Hero: Mirko. You hadn’t really gotten a chance yet to interact with her in your journey as an aspiring hero. You’d heard about her competitive nature through various interviews you’d seen her in. You’d never felt more like prey than now, underneath her sight. Nonetheless, she was even more stunning than the media could convey. Her white locks draped along your shoulder as she peered down over you, the faint scent of lavender and earthy rubble wafting into your senses. Rumi’s piercing blood-tinged irises looked down upon you with a satisfactory expression. The lingering glint of fire locked within her gaze guided you to understand that whatever was driving her on this mission to confront your captors was far from fizzling out.

You’d heard some about personal interactions with her from Bakugou and Midoriya when they worked with her in the field. Deciphering Bakugou’s turn of phrase you’ve come to be fluent in after all these years, you gauged that she wasn’t too bad of a coworker. He’d said she was strong and that she had a kick that was no joke. When Bakugou remembered something about the people he fought alongside, you knew they left some impression on him—good or bad. He did make a point to reiterate that she only “gets in his way”, but he regards everyone that way, so it’s not a huge concern. Midoriya mostly info-dumped about her quirk and every fighting tactic he’d thought up to either aid her or counter her, but you didn’t mind his ramblings. Animal-based quirks like hers were always intriguing to learn about, and you’d appreciated him taking the time to tell you all the information he’d drug out of the woman. They both agreed (shockingly) they would like to work with her again.

You asked some of the girls of 3-A what they thought of Mirko before, and were surprised when they all nearly trampled you in their freak-out fangirling over the woman. Hagakure gushed over how much she loved what Mirko was doing for the community of women in the pro hero society. She adored how Mirko showed the world that women weren’t just damsels in distress; that the power and strength they hold mentally and physically is one to behold. Mina giddily hugged your arm as she declared the hero gave her confidence to not hide any of her more eccentric or “out-of-the-norm”, as she put it, features. Momo allowed herself to become vulnerable as she shared how Mirko taught her how if others don’t have confidence in your abilities you have to be your own advocate. Perfectionism was rampant in the poor girl, and she had such high expectations for herself. Seeing Momo learning to be more gentle with herself was comforting.

 Jiro and Uraraka explained all the ways she really was a fantastic figure for women, not simply aspiring heroes, to look up to. Strong, snarky, never afraid to throw a quick insult or punch to any ignorant when she needed to. Mirko was not known to be a passive presence; she made sure you know exactly what her opinion on any matter is when she gets in your face to tell you it. Since she wasn’t attached to an agency, most would think she’d be an outcast, but they’d be wrong. The girls told you how she was a lone wolf type, that she’d rather handle everything her own way. You admired her for that. Mirko’s belief of not fitting in with the crowd to instead be at the front lines of encouraging others to break the mold society says you should fit is one to be coveted.

“How’s it going, (Y/N)?” Mirko warmly asked you. You froze when you heard your name fall from her lips. How did she know you? You’d never met face-to-face before in your life! She’s even prettier than the photos snapped by her paparazzi could try to convey.

“Are these guys giving you any trouble~?” Hawks ruffled your hair as he sprouted up next to you like a daisy in a sunny meadow. You felt your face heat up at their actions, not getting used to the unwavering attention of such prestigious members of the Hero Agencies. Also, they’re two of the most gorgeous people in all of Japan. Even a sparse glance in someone’s direction would be enough to make anyone crumple to their knees—nevermind that they’re actually addressing you. You were having a hard time standing up on your own, knees wobbly and jittery, your eyes bouncing back and forth between the two in a fumbling manner. All you could think about was not making a total fool of yourself in front of your heroes. That’s about when you realized you hadn’t responded to them, leaving everyone listening with bated breath at your silence.

You wanted to slap yourself for the silly star-struck reaction, “Oh! I–um…,”

“They’re fine, thank you very much.” Surprisingly, Cementoss’ usual composed tone took a frozen turn. Guess he didn’t appreciate the two of them being here. In fact, it looked to be that most of the teachers in that room didn’t care much for the pros being present, all of them having a crinkled up forehead and scowles dotting their lips. That, or the frustration is from the broken window. Whoops.

“They’d feel more fine if you’d back off.” Vlad King, who had finally calmed down, cautioned the duo. Though he’d cooled off his ramage, you could see the irritated vein popping out underneath his skin, so another outburst was sure to loop back around. Whether it was expressed in a hunched posture, snippy tone, or the expression on their faces; the teachers all agreed on one thing. These two were trouble and had to be escorted away from their darling now.

“Yeesh! What a tough crowd, Mirko!” Hawks overdramatically threw the back of his hand over his forehead. He leaned his body backwards, grasping his other hand over his chest where his heart lies, and wailed out in a helpless maiden-like tone. Oh, yeah. You forgot that he’s such a drama queen. It’s silly, but also somewhat charming, in a way.

“Ha! Seems so, Hawks. Hey, chill out, we’re only here to play babysitter, old timer.” Mirko snickered to herself. Hawks joined in her light-hearted teasing with a bright chortle of his own. His laugh formed from a cluster of tiny clicks rattling through his teeth.

“...What was that, little lady?” Vlad’s temper was never one to back down as he cracked his knuckles. You felt Mirko’s hand clasp tighter around your shoulder at Vlad’s choice of words. You could tell she wanted to go off on him and rip him to shreds both verbally and physically, but held her tongue. Now was not the time to start a war.

“Eh, don’t take it so personally, King! She was just pointing out the obvious~,” Hawks egged the man on. Seems to be Hawks didn’t agree with the “no war” idea. You were beginning to get a bit nervous with the pros’ language. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the boar man’s tantrum, as previously mentioned, so why were they purposefully lighting his fuse?! At least move you out of the way first before digging their own grave! Though, you might get pushed into it with them when you can’t dodge their crossfire.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 13 sneered at the shade.

“You’re all…wise from all your experiences,” words posing as carefully chosen by Hawks no doubt fired up the two more.

“But (Y/N) needs protection from a fresher-faced cast. If you catch our drift~,” Mirko finished for her quick-witted partner.

“That is why you’re all gathered, right? For the Purge?” Hawks anything but innocently asked the group. Those who weren’t lost in their own rage showed a glimpse of hesitation in the answer. Hawks, willing to take a mile from the inch they gave him, ran with their slip-up.

“So, it is true. Judging by the switch in your behaviors, and from that out of the ordinary hue in your irises, seems to me like this lot caught the illness. Probably from those students bulldozing through the school. Can you believe it, Mirko?” Hawks swiftly closed the little distance between you two by slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“I can. They’ve been in such close proximity, it’s no wonder they caught it. I’m just disappointed. They’re supposed to protect people like our lovely (Y/N) here from these incidents. Instead, they’re fueling the catastrophe Hmm. You must’ve been so scared running away from these shit excuses for teachers.” Mirko brought her hand to your cheeks and pinched them together to make your lips pout outward.

“Hey! You know that’s bull—,” Power Loader barked as he leaned across a nearby table.

“What were you sickos planning to do with them, huh? Make them your slave after this night,” Hawks unapologetically interrupted the man, a silence washing over the room at the question being sprung, “Force them to be at your beck and call for everything? Splay their body out to satisfy your needs whenever and wherever you wanted? Disgusting.” Hawks veered his body in front of yours to shield it with one of his huge red wings. The more he talked about what your captors would do to you after the Purge, the more fear reeved up to course through your veins. While thinking about the possibilities of what would happen after the Purge if you were caught, Hawks’ accusations had crossed your mind, but you tried to ignore them earlier. They wouldn't…they’d respect your wishes even if you…belonged to them after all this! They—not your friends, nor your teachers—wouldn’t do those horrible things to you.

And yet, based on everything that’s happened thus far…

You’re not sure anymore.

You shrunk into Mirko’s side deeper, wishing to disappear from the conversation of your fate entirely. You felt her wrap an arm around your waist, and you felt safer with the basically strangers than you had all night long with your long-time partners. You wanted to cry from the relief of finally having somewhere safe to turn. You held the tears back to see where their confrontations would lead.

You felt Mirko lead your stiff body with fleeting strides. She was obviously trying to give you an out, so you went willingly. Just let them do as they please. Anything to get out of this suffocating mess. Hawks caught on to her.

“How dare you try to make those foolish claims against us,” Aizawa began, rage climbing high in his heart. He reached for his infamous scarf and pulled the end piece out, preparing for his attack. Screw playing nice. Screw relying on others. Fuck letting these idiots walk all over him. The nerve of this flashy waste of space dictating him to be the kind of monster that would take advantage of you. You’d been in his life for so long now that he hardly even tries to remember the times without you and his other students. So many tough challenges your class has faced, and yet, each hurdle was leapt over with no hesitation. Your entire class had brought him such joy over the years through the sorrow. His kids. However, you and Shinsou undoubtedly claimed the prize to share the number one spot on his favorites list. You’d been so attentive and caring over him when he’d left you to flounder for air. Late nights powering through boring essays, countless assignments completed only an hour before they were due, the weekend study sessions that almost always turned into game nights or gossiping over snacks that he’d seen you participate in with your other friends. You work so tirelessly to be a good student and attentive friend. That effort wasn’t unnoticed by his watchful eye.

There were many more less impactful moments shared that, dare he say, mean even more to him than the death-defying acts you’d survived together. Chats over the positive current life events with him drinking his standard cup of muddy brown coffee and you casually sipping your own beverage. Walks around campus with him, Midoriya, Tokoyami, Ojiro, and you. The sky gleaming a dazzling aqua blue with the sun sparkling overhead, but not in an overwhelming glare. Puffy clouds dancing in the air. A pleasant, flowery breeze twirling past you. One late night in the common room when he was making his last round to make sure everyone was securely in their dorms, he found you sitting on the couch brushing off the aggressive tears slipping down your cheeks.

When he’d made his presence known that night, you’d shot up like a fired bullet off the comfy sofa, scrubbing your puffy eyes in an attempt at covering up the residual cry session. You’d greeted him warmly with a laughing cough to hide your choked up throat, but he shut down your plan of concealment by hinting that he’d already seen your sadness flowing. That night he sat beside you and talked. Talked about what you were upset about, talked through your doubts, fears, and resentment over how you didn’t know what you were going to do now. Gave you a sorrow-filled look when you broke down into a fit of violent sobs again. He even sat with you in a lingering, but reassuring, silence after your sobs faded.

Only then did Aizawa release a sliver of his own castle walls to give you a hug holding as much love as he could spare from his withered and beaten heart. He told you many ways how your class had changed him to be a better man. How you inspired him to keep pushing himself to look ahead to what beauty the future could hold. Aizawa promised you that night that no one was going to abandon you like you’d feared. He promised to always be there for you whenever you needed his support. All he needed was for you to reach out, and he’d claw up any bit of strength he had left to come rescue you like the hero he promised Oboro and Hizashi he would become. Today was no different from back then.

These fakes weren’t going to tarnish his cherished memory of that night with you. That night, when you’d smiled back up at him with a wobbly grin and soggy eyes, now glistening with hope from his words, you should have known he wouldn’t let some nobodies crush your heart. These wretches didn’t stand a chance.

Power Loader cut Aizawa off to continue, “We would never. Stop trying to scare them like that!”

13, back to her reasonable self, even tried coaxing you, “(Y/N), they are lying. We would never betray you. Now, if you’d please come back here—,”

Feeling bolder with allies at your side, you forced your lips to move to stop their rambling lies, “Why should I believe a single word that comes out of any of your mouths?!” The room fell into stillness. It was as if the whole world had shut itself up to give you the stage to speak your mind.

Fed up and running off of pure adrenaline, you continued, “None of you have asked for my opinion on anything that has happened tonight. You don’t care what I have to say; all you give a shit about is doing whatever the fuck you want to me. You didn’t tell me what you were planning. You spied on me, you kidnapped me, and kept me stuck in this hell as your little hostage all night!

“Even if you did care about me, it was only to find out what you could gain from me for your selfish desires.” You downcasted your eyes at their knife-like glares.

Tears welled up and this time you couldn’t stop them from dragging down your tired face. You took a shaky breath to fill your deflated lungs, “I…I understand this virus has…changed you. I understand whatever you’re going through isn’t easy to fight against. But I don’t know. I don’t know what is happening to any of you. I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing. I just…can’t know. I’m too scared to even try to begin searching for the answer. My classmates have become the same as you—completely changed from who they are. They’ve been hunting me down. And now this thing has taken my teachers too?” Your lips wobbled at the realization of your loss.

“Ha…it’s like one sick joke the world is playing against me,” an exasperated laugh bled from your vocal chords, “I don’t know how it’s making you feel, but I know what it is making you do to me. You’re scaring me. I don’t feel safe. Around any of you. It isn’t crazy to consider you’d force me to do…other things too.”

You caught Aizawa’s eyes when you looked up. You turned away to save yourself from the heartbreak of his torn expression.

You curled into Hawks’ back, shrouding your emotional husk of a body in his fluffy feathers. You allowed the last few dying words left in your quaking heart to wheeze out, “Please. Leave me alone. Please.” Whether your teachers were mad at you for speaking against them, or if they wanted to get on their knees and beg for your forgiveness, you had no clue. All you know is that Hawks whips around, gathers your trembling form in his arms, and takes a couple of steps back from Mirko.

“Hang on tight.” He gently whispers to you. Unconsciously, you obeyed, and securely held onto the fizzy collar of his iconic jacket.

“We’ll be watching over them for the rest of the Purge.” That cold, nonchalant jab to the teachers was the last fleeting acknowledgment Mirko threw at them. Hawks spread his wings.

“Next time, before you go destroying the mental and emotional well-being of your students, get a grip on reality.” The finality of Hawks’ tone was filled with all the venom that he felt you lovingly held back. Your kindness is not what this lot deserves. With that, he flapped his humongous wings a few times to kickstart his ascension and took off with you pressed tightly against him. He soared up and out of the broken window, making sure to cover you properly so you didn’t get sliced or stabbed by any broken glass. You watched Mirko clamber out of the rickety window from over his shoulder, land on the edge of the concrete window sill, and use her legs to jump as high into the air as she could.

You watched in awe as she practically flew up several storeys, confidently grasp the edge of the railing atop the roof, and gently sling herself onto the roof without so much as a hiccup. Judging by the trajectory of where Hawks was flying, he too was aiming for the roof. Not like you cared at this point. As long as you were away from them, you’d be fine to go anywhere they took you.

“We at Air Hawks thank you for flying with us on this gorgeous evening, esteemed passenger. We have now reached our destination, the rooftop of the illustrious UA High. The weather outside is clear skies at a balmy 75°, so you may see a stunning view of the city tonight. Please take care and follow your charming, ever good-looking pilot as he will guide you towards the exit.” Hawks cracked a light joke to try and pull you out of the dark headspace you were currently dwelling inside. You spared him a half-hearted giggle for his attempt, allowing him to release the hold his hands had on the backs of your knees. You plopped your feet down softly to the ground just as Mirko had made it over.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Mirko held out her hands, her gaze trained on Sero’s tape that was still wound snugly around your wrists. Wow. You’d entirely forgotten they were still there. You lifted your wrists to the admirable woman and merely watched as she took your already reddening wrists into hers.

“Honestly. What barbarians. To leave you bound like this? Complete bullshit.” Mirko muttered insult after insult under her breath as she wasted no time in destroying the binding. She took your wrists up to her mouth and carefully chomped down using her steely, rabbit-esque front teeth on the strips to make a sizable cut through them. She gently pulled your wrists apart and the tape effortlessly split. Free, at last.

Using your fingers, you tore away the remaining severed strips with a wince, and threw them to the ground. Battered and bruised, you saw that your wrists were nearing raw from how much struggling against the tape’s adhesive you’d done. You gave a quick massage to stimulate blood flow back into your numbing fingertips.

“There! Feel any better?” Mirko prodded.

“Much. Thank you for getting me out of there. I seriously couldn’t have asked for a cooler getaway than two of the top pro heroes in Japan being my saviors.” you tossed a light joke in along with the gratitude. You yanked the two pros into your chest with a tight hug to further show your thanks, taking a deep breath against their chests. They were rigid at first, but they both allowed themselves. However, while being this close, they couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell drifting off of your clothing. There was little the pros could do to avoid the intoxicating aroma, but before they could delve further into what it was, they heard a tiny sniffle sound from your buried head.

With an alertness to you that he hadn’t felt before, Hawks pulled you away from his chest with a concerned look on his face. “Hey, what’s up, baby bird?” Hawks were much more determined than he had been all night to get you to open up about what was going on in your brain.

Not looking up from the ground to respond, he placed his fingertips underneath your chin and tilted your bent head up. You had a thread of silvery tears lining your lower lash line and a wobbly lip that made both Mirko and Hawks’ aggravation boil their blood.

“Hon, tell us what’s wrong.” Mirko commanded. She could barely contain the loathing that spiderwebbed throughout her heart. When she gets her hands on those measly heroes who mistreated you, she is going to make them wish they’d never bothered you with their worthless existence ever again. Lousy maggots. Just as Mirko’s mind was going to float off the deep end into disturbing plans of vile and ruthless methods of punishment, she caught herself.

Woah. That’s new. That was aggressive.

No, the aggressiveness was not new. She’d always had a bit of spark to her. Her wild thoughts are what made her such a great hero; that’s how Mirko became widely recognized for her prowess. It was who she was having the ruthless feelings against that surprised her. She’s worked with those pros, her coworkers and friends, for years. She barely knows you at all. Yet, she’s planning every possible way she could make the insolent, ignorant gang pay for their mistreatment.

Although, why should that fact matter? Why shouldn’t they pay? Sure, they’re her friends, but they abused an innocent. They forcefully used their quirks and position of power over you to make you suffer! It’s despicable. It’s dishonorable. They should face the punishment of the law. But…that isn’t enough. Her rationality slips, drifting further away the longer she feels you warm her. It fuels a fire within her, and that fire sets the marrow lining her bones a light. She doesn’t want to toss the aggressors off to the police like a spineless coward. You deserve better than that. You deserve more. You deserve justice. She is justice. Technically, she is the law. She will make them pay. Yes, that’s a wonderful idea!

God, she hasn’t felt this warmth in a long time. Too long. You’re wonderful.

Hawks isn’t faring any better. He’s wild-eyed—his mind deep sketching out the framework of delusional fantasies of him taking you on as his trainee, showing you all the tips and tricks he’s learned in the harsh world of hero life, and quite literally taking you under his wing. Maybe you two become more after you get closer. Keigo isn’t unfamiliar with the desire of wanting companionship in his life. He often finds himself daydreaming of a partner by his side, on and off the field of battle. Never a specific person, just a faceless, nameless being, fluttering through his desires. Smiling, laughing, enjoying each other's time together. Cute stuff. Hawks yearns for that small sliver of normalcy. Keigo wants to feel human—to feel whole again after everything he’s been stripped of in his miserable existence.

With you, even though your interactions have been brief and you’ve endured some light flirting of his that is barely considerably mentionable, you’ve brought him nothing but a comforting and loving feeling. He feels indebted to you for simply being you. Not lying to him, or trying to pretend to be someone you’re not. He’s constantly surrounded by deceptive and cruel human nature. He truly couldn’t tell you how many thousands of googly-eyed newbies have introduced themselves to him, praying for even a small flicker of his fame to rub off on them. Hoping to use him to spring them up into the actually noticeable charts. It’s so easy to read them too. They’re open, flimsy magazines. Bright, colorful, eye-catching, and full of back-stabbing and strategically fabricated lies. Spread wide and pleading for him to flip through their pages. They always hiss lies through their teeth, grinning and bearing the once-in-a-lifetime interaction. But no matter how much sucking up they commit to or how well they try to veil the truth of their intentions behind sugared words, he never fails to see through them.

Guess the training he went through as a child was good for something. If you don’t open up to people, you can never get hurt. Sure, that tactic has worked wonders…up until meeting you.

But he’s just so tired. He just wants to lower the railing and find something worth all the fight he puts up.

You might be his outlet.

“It’s…it’s just been a long night. I’m sorry—,” you tried to cover your face with your forearm, desperate to conceal the embarrassing honest showing on your face. Mirko gently removed your shield with a comforting smile.

“Oh no, hon, it’s fine—,”

“Never ever apologize for your feelings—,” both pros stumbled over each other’s words. When they realized they were getting anywhere by interrupting the other, they shared a look. After a small nod shared, they wrapped their arms around you again.

“You’re okay,” they both said at the same time, cradling you against them once again. You snuggled deeper, taking that chance to breathe deep and avoid spiraling into a panic attack.

While your arms were around the two, you accidentally brushed against Hawks’ wings. That is when you noticed his wings had puffed up in size, similar to how any bird does when they want to appear bigger to a threat they face. He had been very tense at the beginning of the hug, so maybe he was only nervous, so you chose to not question it. Plus, you’d just let a room full of deadly pro heroes! Yeah, it’s alright. However, the light thudding taps of Rumi’s foot against the concrete roof was something you couldn’t explain. Is it normal for hybrid rabbits to emulate this characteristic from their bunny counterparts? You’re not too sure.

You tried to pull away, but their tight grips didn’t let you. Oh. Well, maybe they’re both in desperate need of a hug. You’re very familiar with your classmates coming to you for hugs during their rougher days. They always said you had the best hugs, and you take great pride in that fact. Come to think of it, maybe you should ask them all about their mental health more often, just so no one spirals off the deep end and punches another classmate (thank you for that, Bakugo).

OH! Your friends! Maybe Hawks and Mirko can help them! Yes, that’s a great plan.

Peeling further back, you tilted your head up to look them in their eyes. You let out an airy chuckle, “As much as I enjoy the hug, I need some more of your help.”

They instantly lightened their steely grips. Not too much to let you slip away. Mirko held a smug look, as if knowing you’d come crawling back to her for her aid. SHe’s the only one who can provide for you properly, afterall. Don’t worry, let her handle everything for her darling. No task is too big for her. Hawks resembled that of a grinning puppy, excited and warm. Eager to perform any task for praise and treats. Yes! Anything you want, darling, they can provide! What do you need?

They didn’t supply you with a verbal answer, but the looks they carried spoke loud enough, so you continued, “My classmates. I don’t know what happened to my friends, but they’ve got the same thing the teachers do. I think everyone’s infected. I have to help them, but I don’t think I can do it alone.”

As soon as they heard you utter the word “friends”, their bliss was shot and struck the ground like a wounded songbird. Their brains shut off to stop the nonsense you were suggesting. Friends? You need people other than them?! And what’s worse, is you want them to help those idiots?! Last they checked, they were public enemy number one for making you run yourself ragged up and down those endless halls! No, that can’t be right. Those fools don’t deserve their help. Not for what they made you go through.

“No.” Rumi snapped with a frigid simper.

The rest of the sentence you were sputtering falters. You gaze up at the rabbit hero, “...What?”

With a second look-over, Mirko appears a lot scarier than she did only minutes beforehand. Have her eyes always been this clouded? Her unrelenting gaze exudes a darker inkling than when you’d faced her way. Rumi’s eyes stuck on you like gum bonded to the bottom of your shoe.

No. This wouldn’t happen again. They said they’d be better than this—better than them.

Hawks obnoxiously cleared his throat to brush the eerie vibe away from the floundering conversation, “Ehh…haha! What Rumi means is not right now. It’s too dangerous to go searching for your friends now. Finding help for them after the Purge settles down is the safest strategy.” Hawks smoothly saved Mirko’s ass with the perfect excuse, served up on a shining silver platter. You didn’t appreciate how obviously strained Hawks’ tone became at “friends”.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe. Preferably away from this shithole.” She mumbled the last portion, keeping the snark to her own chest, but her contempt for the institution was blatant. Mirko’s eyes were laced with flaming venom as she fleetingly paid attention to the concrete walls. A sneer broke out on her lips, as if just the idea of standing on top of the building was a sin itself.

“Ah… okay.” You tried to leave the hug again. They persisted.

“Mirko—,” Hawks’ voice twisted into a demanding tone. His blown out, puppy-like pupils cinched into vicious slits, staring down the woman.

“Hawks, I don’t want to hear it. Back off.” Mirko gnashed back at the blond. The two began an all out war against each other, both tugging against the other’s advances. A tug to the left, a drag to the right, both parties were unrelenting. Neither wanted to allow the victory of having you in their arms.

“You’re holding them too tightly!” Keigo whined.

“Well, you’re not holding them tight enough.” Mirko argued back. You’ve seen this before. It reminded you of two children fighting over who got to play with which toy, always bickering how the other was “doing it wrong”. It reminded you of Ochaco fighting the guys. It reminded you of Denki and Mina struggling over who got to hold you. Childish squabbles.

Liars, the lot of them. They didn’t want to help you. If they did before, not anymore. They’re infected, there’s no other answer for their behavior.

“Keigo, just stop it! You and I both know that you can’t protect them.” Mirko snarked. That caught the bird’s attention judging by the way his eyes dug into her, all emotion scrapped from his expression. A grim look stole the spot, one that told of violence and mayhem running rampant in behind his eyes. An expression usually reserved for the villains he so often made easy prey of. This is awful.

“And what is that supposed to mean, rabbit?” Hawks’ eyes looked wilder than before.

“I think you and I both know what I meant.” She snarked back, ruffling his feather figuratively and quite literally.

“Be honest with yourself. When was the last time you were able to save something that you actually cared about?” Mirko hatched a devilish plan. She took the chance of his loss of temper to clutch you against her. She took a couple spacious leaps back, creating a sizable distance between her friend turned enemy. Hawks plucked two giant feathers from his wingspan that sharped out into duo blades resembling two scimitars.

“I’m done being—,” just before Hawks could spiral off the deep end into whatever hell he had planned to put Mirko through, a disturbance crashed the party.

“Enough, you two.” A formidable voice shook from the shadows. Those few words are all it takes for the two beside you to back off from tearing out each other’s throats. Whoever it was had the ability to command total control of a room in an instant. You couldn’t see them, but you knew the voice came from the other side of the stairwell exit.

“Great,” Mirko scoffs, tilting her head to look the other way with a cross of her arms. You couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or the shame from being caught. Judging by her scowl, it’s probably the latter.

“Endeavor…how long have—,” Hawks sputtered out. You swivel your head to the gap at the birdman. No fucking way it’s the number one hero. He’s gotta be wrong. The number one pro hero showing up to participate in the Purge is unheard of. Guess you’d be wrong. Though, you suppose that even the number one gets a pass during today. It’s just jarring since All Might had not once in all his years of being the symbol of peace even be seen during the Purge hours. He probably just didn’t want to be caught up in a scandal with the news or social media if he were to ever be discovered converting to be a player of the Purge’s game.

Sure enough though, the one who rounds the corner is in fact Endeavor. He shut Hawks up with a simple raise of his palm and an unforgiving glare. The once cheery hawk tucks into himself and shields his frustration away from the number one.

The first thing that shows you the reality of the situation is his overwhelming stature. You severely underestimated the way this man takes up a room. Seeing him in TV interviews on the news and fighting against villains is one thing, but it is a completely different beast to be face-to-face with him stalking towards you. It made sense why he was deemed the top—with such a suffocating aura, it was hard to believe that any villain even tried to oppose the behemoth. You should know, you’ve met him before.

During your training with him alongside the boys, it had been quite the feat. You’d mostly done in-field training with the boys, but the one time you did have one-on-one training with the pro was unnerving, to say the least. Endeavor had watched your every move, his eyes never straying too far from where you’d displayed the extent of your Quirk’s usefulness. You knew you were as capable, even more so since you could control your emotions, as Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki. Let’s face it, all three of them had a tendency to act out far too irrationally due to their urges and feelings, and they weren’t shy about expressing it. Although, your self control put you in a favorable light with Endeavor, so it wasn’t strange that he gave more of his attention to you.

Instead of bickering and combating everything the pro said with a harsh glower like Katsuki had, you listened intently and gave Endeavor undivided attention. Instead of ignoring the man who actively tried to give pointers and choosing to walk faster ahead of the group like Shoto had, you hung back and asked questions about what Shoto had done wrong in his approach and how to improve his strategy. You became more agile, better aware of your surroundings, and able to predict some of the moves villains would try to throw at you. You understood that the opportunity that Shoto had given to you all with training under his father for the work-study was not something to be taken lightly. Was the man a little too much of a hardass for your taste? Yes. But he was not a pushover. He had valuable lessons to teach you all from experiences he’s faced during his years in the field. If you wanted to actually place in the hero charts one day, you knew you’d have to get past your own opinions on the man and try to cooperate.

If someone asked your opinion of Endeavor, they’d understand he’s not your favorite hero to grace the charts. You’d believed him to be startlingly cold for the fiery nature of his quirk. It was easy to say you’d originally thought him to be nothing but an ass with too hot of a head on his shoulders, and while that was still the truth more often than not, he had his moments of clarity. The media did have a knack for stringing up the moments of his ill temper caught on film and making them the headline of every social media platform. What you had learned during your trainings held at the crack of dawn was that he was extremely precise. There was never a lack of communication or any doubt held within his words whenever he instructed you. Swing a right hook into the dummy’s torso. Sweep your leg to the left to knock the opponent over. He was straight to the point and earnest in the compliments regarding your physical improvements.

He’d even let you spar against him one day. Endeavor had taken the four of you and one of his many sidekicks, Burnin, to the rooftop during one of the few freetimes you’d actually had. He asked you to step across from him and get into your fighting position. He instructed no quirks be used, that it be purely a hand-to-hand combat session that balanced skill and strength together. With Burnin as the referee, you’d begun. He thankfully didn’t go easy on you as he views not giving his all into any task as a “halfass lazy excuse”, so you’d fight with your entire being against Endeavor. He educated the four of you through commentating on all of the things you did wrong; how you’d left yourself open to a couple of jabs from him, turned your back to him often enough that he’d seized an opportunity to lunge and knock you over, and such. Though you were outmatched in a number of categories, you soon understood why he was putting you to this impossible challenge. Enji wanted you to get creative with your tactics to take down your foe. You needed to outwit his strength.

With the newfound spark of inspiration, you struck. You made a move imitating that of one you’d tried against him earlier. A simple left hook. He knew he could easily deflect the punch, so he took the bait. You’d noticed before that he was much more sturdy with his right side, which left room for error on his left, so you took the chance. You sidestepped into his peripheral and closed in behind him. You kicked in the back of his right knee, forcing him to stumble to the ground. You knew you couldn’t tackle the man over from this position, nor could you keep him pinned there due to how much force you had to use to kick his knee alone, so you went with the quickest option. You needed to hit a weak point, but since his body was covered in mostly muscle, you only had a few options. Since kicking him in the groin seemed like too cruel for a simple sparring session, the spots above his neck would have to do. You jumped up onto his back, shimmied up enough to hang onto his shoulder, and threw a hard punch right into his throat.

You left him choking on his air and wheezing. He grasped at his neck, steadying himself on his other arm. Leaving him no hands to defend against your assault. You then shoved your hands into his hair, pulled on the strands tightly, and swung your body forward over the man’s shoulder. You let gravity handle the rest. Your body weight pulled his unstable torso forward and he hit the ground with a hefty SMACK! You bent your knees to land sturdily on the ground with minimal impact to your footing and let his face take the brunt of the fall. You then placed your knee hard on the middle of his shoulder blades to pin him and Burnin deemed the match completed with an impressed grin lilting on her face. Admittedly, for the rest of that day, you gloated the pride you felt at taking down the mountain of a man a little too obviously.

You knew that day he most likely wanted to make an example out of you when he presumed you wouldn’t win the fight, but you’d made sure he understood not to fuck around with you or your generosity again.

Zooming back to the present, you caught his eyes goring a hole right through you. Brilliant aqua blue irises stuck out like a sore thumb against his smoldering flames. No matter how much Shoto tried to deny the fact, he truly was Endeavor’s child. That striking blue color kept locked down within the Endeavor lineage and fiery red hair that draped over half of his head was unmistakable. Features that, however much wasted on the shitty attitude the man possessed, would make many and most fall head-over-heels for their stunning effect. Though, in your opinion, Shoto wore the beauty better.

Enji’s gaze was harsh towards you, but it was kind compared to the one he shot at Mirko’s arm wrapped around you. Perceptive, the woman held you closer, as if trying to defy his silent demand of releasing you. She was dead set on not going down without a fight. Before she could hope for one to begin, Hawks laid a hand on her shoulder as a soft hint to not involve you in Endeavor’s unrivaled wrath. Mirko knew he was right. Dammit it all. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she relented, back off of you. She left you to fend for yourself against the beast, cast you aside to the big bad wolf who wouldn’t spare you. It reminded you of the tale of Odysseus facing off with Polyphemus—only you were unarmed and lacking a foolproof plan of escape and this giant won’t allow arrogance to be his downfall yet again like the monster from the epic had.

Finally, Endeavor was right in front of you. If you had any bravery left from the night, it vanished wholly with him staring you down. Endeavor hardly even spared a tilt of his head to gaze down upon you, opting to stare through a half-lidded examination. The only indication that he was human and not some freaky Terminator cyborg from the future coming to hunt you down was the ever-present scowl he’s so fond of sharing.

Without ever taking his sight off of you, he glowered dryly to an unidentified listener, “Why are they scratched up?” You see now the question is not for you, rather it's dedicated to the duo in charge of you. You peered down to see what he was referring to, only now understanding what he meant from the bruises beginning to bloom along your wrists and the miniscule scratches littering your forearms and neckline. None of them were deep enough to lance more than a couple drops of blood, but they were still oozing fresh from the night’s escapades.

“That wasn’t from us! The students were dragging them back-and-forth between the halls before the teachers got a hold of them. You know how rough kids are with their toys.” Hawks quickly presented to the man. Smooth as ever. He strolled over to Endeavor to lean his elbow against the man’s bulky side, as if casually resting against an alleyway’s grimy brick wall. Although, with how stocky the pro was, you’re sure the feeling was probably akin. You watched Endeavor roll his eyes at the blond.

“I’m sure hurling them through a window had nothing to do with the scratches.” Endeavor’s sarcasm hung heavy in the air like too much icing on a dry piece of cake. It was obvious that his comedic side hadn’t been brushed up on in awhile. He took the chance to use an unexpected gentleness to grasp your forearm and hold up the damaged skin to the duo as all the evidence he needed. You, not taking too kindly to being an item for presentation, pulled your arm away from him and held it close. Endeavor shot you a look of disappointment, but held in the trembling Armageddon he had planned. Hawks gave a weak chuckle, no doubt scrounging for a way to veer the conversation off them scaling the side of a building with you.

Endeavor decided to spare you for now, choosing to cross his arms and acknowledge only Hawks, “What’s their status? Who in the school is infected? How many are after them?”

You were starting to get sick of him completely ignoring the fact that you had your own voice to speak for your own wellbeing. “You know I can speak for myself, right? Or have you forgotten that since we last hung out.” Hawks shot you a look that yelled “shut up” like a parent two seconds away from scolding their child who is screaming in public. You didn’t cower. You pressed on to challenge Endeavor’s authority.

“I’m aware. But I understand if I speak to you, you’ll probably end up whining like a child to me. Wasting my time.” Endeavor threw no more than a half-hearted stern crinkle of his brows, and you pretty much could no longer hold back the bubbling anger swelling up in your chest.

“Excuse me! It’s not ‘whining’, it’s called ‘being a sane person with reasonable concerns’. Also, no shit I would complain! Your little underlings were literally just fighting over who was going to kidnap me! That is a perfect reason to yell.” You waltzed your way in front of him to be a human barrier to get in the way of his sight being fixated on Hawks. You will make yourself heard against this bully. Screw it if he trained you, you don’t just ignore someone you’re actively talking about when they are right in front of you! It’s incredibly rude.

“I don’t have time for this,” Endeavor rubbed temples with one hand. You wanted to rip his head off and shout from the rooftops into his eardrums. Maybe that would get your point through his thick skull.

“Wow. First of all, fuck you,” That certainly caught his attention. His head snapped to look down at your defiance. His eyes bore that same look he’d struck Mirko’s arm with before. Boiling hysteria and bitterness. Even though you physically felt the warmth of his internal temperature rise, and you recognized the panic Hawks held in his gob-smacked expression, you couldn’t stop your big mouth from prattling on. Shoto probably would have laughed his ass off at your opposition to his father. That small support in the back of your mind made your confidence soar.

“Second of all, you can’t seriously think that I am going to be chill with anything you wei—,” you couldn’t finish your sentence before you were all of the sudden no longer touching the roof. The collar of your shirt had been snatched by Endeavor’s strong hand with no warning and hoisted high. You were now dangling limply a few feet off the ground. Keigo was squawking figuratively and literally, yanking on Endeavor’s arm to lower the leverage he held your body at. Rumi took a turn for the worst. Threats cranked out of her mouth as she reared up to kick him as hard as she could square in an area where the sun didn't shine. Maybe give him a taste of his own brutality. With an unyielding and unforgiving hold, he lifted you even higher with no strenuous effort. You yelped, swinging and writhing around to try escaping the brute strength of your foe. He brought you in close to look at you eye-to-eye, making sure your darting gaze has nowhere to turn to other than locking in to meet his own icy pair.

“You will not speak to me like that again. Your attitude might be cute to the rest of these weak links, but I won’t let it go without correction. You show me respect, or we will both have to go through a punishment for you that neither of us will enjoy. This is your first and final warning.” Every word was uttered with nothing but truth. No twist of a joke in his tone, no shift in expression, nothing. Only a foreboding aura and the gravely tone that demanded full cooperation.

Every snappy response died on your tongue. You wanted to fight back, to sass all of them more, to tell him exactly what you thought of him to his stupid, scary face—but nothing came. You felt tears line your waterline, and you couldn’t despise them more. Crying when faced with any kind of opposition…what kind of hero does that make you? You couldn’t explain why your mind drifted to Midoriya in this moment when all hope was lost.

You suppose it’s because you recall a day when the boy had tried to deny his waterworks and his friends carried his tears with grace and love. Deku had been sent off to his work-study with the man he’d called ‘Sir Nighteye’. You didn’t know much about the man, in all honesty, but you did know that one of the strongest students at UA had been training underneath him for some time. The sweet boy named Mirio who had come to meet your class and then single handedly swept you all in a twenty-to-one match. He was quite impressive, so the fact that Midoriya had been taken on to work alongside him was quite the honor!

However, Midoriya came back rather…startled, to say the least. He hardly participated in conversations held around him, didn’t speak up during the lectures, and could barely choke down the food placed in front of him either. His eyes were clouded, a scrunched up twist pulled on his eyebrows like he was stuck in a maze of his own thoughts. He looked far into the distance yet couldn’t process what was in front of him. It was scary. Where did the boy always eager to learn and help everyone drift off to? You wanted him back.

The situation came to a head one day at lunch when you were sitting across from the green-haired boy, Iida, and Shoto. You’d all tucked into your meals when you noticed Midoriya had no intention of even attempting to stomach the spread. Shoto had shockingly tried to crack a very dry joke, and that seemed to wake the distant boy. After brushing off all of your concerns for the nth time, Iida finally challenged Deku’s false reassurance. He’d offered an ear to listen to the boy’s troubles. A simple gesture, most would assume, but it hit the boy hard. Midoriya had tried to keep it in, but the boy just couldn’t hold back his emotions—a fact of which you admired to this day. He tried to claim that heroes don’t cry while he actively swiped away the drips trailing from his evergreen eyes, but you watched as Iida and Shoto shut down that statement quickly. It’s such an easy thing to say but a hard skill to execute. Of course heroes cry! Anyone who doesn’t when facing the nightmarish terrors that they do on a daily basis is lying or too stone cold to be considered human.

You watched as the boys bonded over the spilt emotions and a grin overtook your face the entire rest of the day. No one at that table knew what Deku was going through with poor Eri and the vile Overhaul situation. You hadn’t a clue the true reason Iida had extended his hand to the shaken boy that day. But it didn’t matter. Izuku let his tears and strength glow bright that day. Tears are a symbol of actually giving a shit in this world. Tears you shed are the wordless tale you share with the world. Speaking a thousand words in all different orders. A labyrinth that can be solved or failed, depending on how your own soul understands the riddle. You’re still scouring that maze to comprehend your own salty snivels.

“Understood?” The three heroes stilled, waiting for your response. Wordlessly, you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling, looking away from the man to not give the satisfaction of his actions actually scaring you, and nodded. He gave a satisfied grunt of contempt and lowered you back down to the cement. Hawks flitted over to your side, checking you over. Mirko didn’t exactly come running to you but she did make a point of standing in between Endeavor and you.

“You’ll see why we must do this soon, (Y/N). This life is just too risky for someone like you,” he looked like he wanted to say more to you, but held his tongue. You wished he’d just crawl back to whatever shithole he climbed out of and fester there for the atrocious attempt at playing the “comforting” father role.

He meant it, you know. Enji sees you choose to not look beyond his past. Much like his sons. Not that he can blame any of you. But, for some reason, the abandonment of trust hurt more from you than it did Shoto.

Enji could tell you how many sidekicks he’s experienced come and go throughout his career. Does he remember the plebeians' names? No. Why should he? They left, so that must mean they didn’t meet his standards. No big deal, another will take their place eventually. It’s not his job to care about them or to remember them. However, he does remember you quite well. Truthfully, much to your surprise, before even your work-study together.

The first time he’d even sparred you a passing glance was during the Sports Festival in your first year. Truthfully, he didn’t give a single damn about any students in the arena other than his son. Enji really only went to see if Shoto would finally stop this little rebellion of his by only using that wretched ice his doe-eyed wife blessed their son with. He wanted to see Shoto crack under the pressure and give in—finally admit that the fire portion of his power was the stronger, more reliable half. He managed in his obsession to give some half-assed attention to the other one-on-one duels.

One of the fights he watched over was you against the ditzy girl from the Support Department, Mei something. Initially, he was going to walk away at such an uninteresting sounding fight, but he chose to linger. He saw you willingly agree to Mei flaunting her inventions to prospective buyers by using you as the demonstration device. You’d effortlessly almost danced around her gadgets’ tactics; playing the part of challenging foe, but never let her pin you in a dicey position. You’d ended the fight by running her off the boundary line before time ran out, and both of you shared a hug as you parted ways—both satisfied with you being the victor moving forward in the chain of fights and her having interested eyes witnessing her skill. Normally, a blatant show of mutual benefit would have him running for the hills. That wasn’t a fight, neither of you put any effort into crushing your opponent to a pulp, which is what a real show of power was to his image of winning. Yet, he stayed. Not to watch anything that pink girl offered, only examining you bounce around with both your own strength and the might of your quirk. He wanted you to slip up. He wanted you to make a mistake so he could justify ditching the patetic battle, but you never did. You stayed light on your feet and still struck at your opponent a few times to show examples of the defense her “babies” could provide to heroes.

Intriguing, is all he thought. He then stood and sauntered off until the second round.

The second round he watched Shoto, not as easily as he had hoped, defeat Midoriya. While he was filled with both gratification at Shoto caving into his carnal fire and enragement at that Izuku pest for giving his son the unwavering support to defy his hold over his son, he hardly realized your next battle had begun. It was against the vine girl from the Class B—first losers, rather, to him—Ibara. Unlike Mei’s challenge, you basically wiped the floor with the poor girl. You shot around the court, darting like a bat through an inky full-mooned sky, making sure to not give Ibara a chance to get the one up on you. You hardly let her breathe during the showdown, striking at her again and again from all angles. She was safe nowhere, even when hidden behind the viney defensive walls sprouting from her hair. You’d ended it neat and clean with a swift shot of your quirk, landing her out of the arena. Triumphant, you’d moved up again, but you still remained humble while helping Ibara off of the ground with a bright smile and gifted her a sincere handshake. You’d no doubt made a spectacle of yourself to the crowd and everyone watching at home, the loud cheer of encouragement erupting across the venue said just as much. Enji even hashed out a couple of light claps for your impressive display.

Your last battle was the nail in the coffin for Endeavor. You were finally fighting against his son. Of course, he was obviously rooting for Shoto to crush you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to a nail-biting fight. He got just that. You two dove for each other—ice flung around the court in jagged peaks with you racing around the boy and firing off precisely aimed jabs of your own quirk. Blustering rushes of glacial wind flushed across the landscape. You two waltzed around in a deadly dance of effort and skill. You’d make sure Shoto knew that you weren’t to be cast aside like overlooked trash. You had grit, a will to make a name for yourself in the competitive world of heroes. You managed to last around two minutes in the ring together, which is phenomenal, considering his other battles didn’t last more than a handful of seconds. In the end, Shoto had been the victor when he caught you off guard by using his ice on the floor. He swiftly created a haphazard ice rink and slid you out of bounds. You were too exhausted from abusing your quirk so much that afternoon against your other opponents that you couldn’t stop your body from spinning out. Enji didn’t miss the way Shoto practically dashed over to your side, helped you stand up, and offered his arm for you to hold as you shakily shuffled off the slick floor to a safer spot.

Though you lost, he hadn’t forgotten how you gave his son a run for his money. You were very capable. Which is why he didn’t hesitate allowing you to become a work-study of his under the guise of helping you and your other friends out. This plan he has is not only for the benefit of his own gains, but for Shoto’s as well. He knows his son cares for you, but he has to help you see that after all of the Purge nonsense. You two would be perfect together—the perfect marriage of quirks. Of course, he tells himself that he’s not in this for the sole reason of having another powerful quirk added to his ranks. But it certainly helps him like you more.

You kept your eyes lowered, the lingering sting of defeat simmering behind your eyes and in your heart. You wanted to have an unwavering confidence like some of your classmates. You would never say this to Bakugou, but you truly did admire his “never back down” style. You had seen countless times how he barked in the faces of higher-ups, challenging their morals, their reasons for becoming heroes, and plans. It was as if he never agreed with anything they presented. The blond always had to shove his opinion into every decision made. You wanted to stare Endeavor straight in the eye as you stomped on his foot and make him see what you really thought of all their bullshit. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have it in you to ignore his authority. Guess that’s why you’re still stuck up here on this stupid roof with people you don’t want to be around, huh?

Hawks brushed back your hair, trying to examine your face for distress or injury, but all he could see was you not meeting his gaze. He wants to tell you he knows firsthand how hard this decision is—hell, even he has doubts relying on Endeavor and Mirko. He wants to say he’d be able to make this escape on his own with you. Hide you away alone so no one else has any clue where you are. That sounds like paradise to him. Alas, with so many high profiles after you now, there isn’t a chance of him making it out with his head. If he broke the agreement he resentfully made with the two, then others would certainly turn against him.

Later. He’ll strike later. Don’t you see? That’s why he’s playing the perfect little stepping stool. No one deserves you but him—not even his idol. His hero. He’ll make sure you know that too by the end of this night. Only a little longer of bearing the pretending and game of dress up, then he’ll slip away with you in tow.

“Hawks.” You heard Endeavor call out for the winged man. Daddy’s calling.

Hawks tilted your chin up so you were forced to look into his amber glow, and offered a caring smile. He hoped you could see the promise behind his eyes. The disgust masked behind a beaming smile was perfected for meeting delusional strangers and other worthless heroes. He gave Endeavor that smile, but not to you. You hoped the scowl you shot ripped his lungs out and left them rotting in a pile of maggot-riddled filth. How dare he give you such a carefree look after telling you he was going to steal away your entire life.

After Hawks walked over to converse with Endeavor, Mirko closed in. Not much was said between you two, but she did bump her hip against yours to knock you out of your own head. You turned to give her an offensive side eye, but she only fronted an unbothered look. You went to ignore her again, turning to face towards the men. However, you didn’t get far as she decided to make her personal mission to annoy you. You felt a gentle poke into your side, ticklish and fleeting. You jumped, falling for the trap and glaring at her again. This time, she had a mild grin on her face. It was obvious your displeasure fueled her joy.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to look mad,” she snorted, leaning back on her heels. She couldn’t stop looking at you, and you saw her stare through your peripheral.

You scoffed, “Trying?” You faced forward to deny her yearning for your gaze.

“Of course. I’ve seen mad before, and you’re not at that level. You’re just…peeved. Disgruntled. Ew, no, that word is too ugly to describe you.” Mirko shook her head and stuck her tongue out at the mention of the synonym. You took a deep breath and settled in to focus on the men discussing back and forth.

She circled you like a shark lunging on for her prey, but you simply turned your head the opposite direction of where she was to avoid the confrontation.

“Where you going, grumpy~?” Mirko easily caught on to your aversion. You noticed how her grin truly did resemble something shark-like. The thought crossed your mind if she was really half-bunny, or actually some predator in disguise masking the innocence of a rabbit. A wolf in sheep’s clothing

“I’m actually very interested in that bird over there. Would you look at that, it’s pretty far away.” You apathetically mused at the distant dot in the sky. You brushed her prodding away to daze off into the horizon, Mirko’s words slowly being tossed into the heaping bin of memories you wouldn’t document in your brain. Gazing across the landscape of the dark treeline surrounding UA and the few standing buildings nearby, your eyes scanning the moonlit metal of the nearby rooftops. But something else glistening on the roof caught your eye too. Something moving.

You watched it shift and reflect the moon’s rays from across the neighboring rooftop. You squinted, trying to catch exactly what was skulking around in the dark, but it strayed just beyond your sight. Whatever it was, it wanted to stay hidden.

“Absolutely not.” Endeavor’s thunderous voice startled you from your scouting. Hawks turned his head to see if you had noticed the man’s tantrum—no shit you’d notice that barbaric yell from the brute—and, in seeing your alarm, sighed. He scooted closer to the mammoth of a man, turning his back to you. You strained your ears to hear the mumbling.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s not ideal—I know that—but what other choice do you think we have?” Was all you could hear before Hawks’ voice became too faint to make out comprehensible words.

You then remembered your little “friend” in the shadows. You shot your head back to its previous position to confront the adversary. Nothing. You searched and searched the silent building, but nothing. You wanted to tell yourself that it was just your mind playing tricks in the dark, but on tonight of all nights, you knew better than to downplay your concern.

Finally acknowledging Mirko, you questioned her, “Do you see anything on that roof over there?”

She gave you an unimpressed deadpan, “Seriously? You're trying the ‘oh my gosh, what’s that over there!’ trick?”

“Wha—no!” You looked offended, but you felt a cold sweat on the side of your forehead. Inside, you knew you’d probably have tried that trick sooner rather than later, and you've got to hand it to her. She knows you well.

Before you could try to explain your reasoning, a raging flame shot to strike Hawks and Endeavor.

Miraculously, Hawks’ reflexes were quick enough to shove Endeavor and himself out of the way of the surprise attack before someone was set ablaze. The smell of burning hair permeated the area although, and you looked over to catch a glimpse of a portion of Hawks’ right wing being singed into charred black wisps. Mirko reacted nearly faster than Hawks did, grabbing your waist and maneuvering you back from the fire. It was you and Mirko parted from Hawks and Endeavor far on the opposite side of the roof.

“What the hell?” Mirko grit her teeth at the attack. Psychos getting in the way of her time with you, what a joke. Such a waste of time. She just wants to run off and find somewhere to keep you for the rest of the Purge, yet these shitty obstacles just can’t seem to get enough of you. She was going to rip them limb from limb for taking her attention off of you.

You stood with no complaint in her arms, not minding her taking the lead of your protection. You still couldn’t see who caused the disruption, but you would soon wonder no longer.

“You’re slow today, Endeavor. What? Off your game or something?” A seedy voice echoed across the way. Male, deep, commanding. You watched as the foe came to stand at the edge of the railing. Your eyes dilated at the sight. Your breath caught in your throat. You’d only cared to remember this man as the one who, with the rest of his party, ruined your training camp over the summer and kidnapped your classmate, Bakugou.

You’re shot into the past as you recount that horrible night. It had been such a great start to the day. You’d been working hard with all of your friends, aiming to better improve the longevity and resilience of all your quirks. You’d nearly tuckered yourselves out when the hero Pixie-Bob said you all had one more challenge to face before bed. The Test of Courage. It began as traditionally as any silly game teenagers played in the dark did. Then it all came crashing down at the faint, then quickly overwhelming, scent of smoke. You remember being there in that midnight-black forest, you remembered how excited you’d been at the started of that stupid game you’d agreed to play, you remember the fire that infested the trees and burnt the pretty flowers and bushes to wisps of charcoal ash, you remembered the terror and fear of being lost in said woods before Deku found you wandering alone. You remember locking eyes with the man who stoked the fires. A spearing turquoise. You’d seen a blue so vibrant like that only once before. You’d found that hypnotic color in Shoto’s left eye. Though, Shoto was a much kinder soul than the monster these captivating eyes were attached to.

In the present, you’re wrung back into that same terror as you watched his black leather trench coat gently sway in the breeze, a glinting bicep catching your eye. The metal cuffs shone from the full light of the moon along with the many staples running up and down the sleeves. He was too far away to discern an exact facial expression, but you could blatantly see the large patch of marred, burned flesh dominating the lower half of his face. The leathery substance was roughly connected to what remained of his skin untouched by flame, stitched up with bloody staples. The way it was sutured made his face forever appear as if strung upwards to mimic a sickening Cheshire grin. You wanted to say he was only generally looking around the roof, but you knew better. The villain was practically drilling daggers into you with how much he was staring. No, you couldn’t just say he was any old random villain; you knew his name. Dabi.

More bodies moved out from behind him to occupy the opposing roof. All you heard from them was laughter and unflattering comments nagged at the pro heroes.

“Wow, they’re even cuter this close~! Much better than in the crappy photos you guys took, Shiggy~,” A much higher pitched voice exhaled in an almost loving sigh. Their blonde hair was cinched up in two tangled space buns, but the mess was an intentional look. The loose strands were slicked into spikes. Cutesy and feminine, a happy aura surrounded her, but you knew better. She draped herself over the railing as if in her own ditzy world. You would have believed it was a fainting couch with how dramatically she had laid over the scenery. Much like Dabi, the girl couldn’t take her gaze off of you, but she made her presence known.

“Hiiii, (N/N)~~! Are the big, scary pro heroes getting in the way again? Don’t worry, cutie! I’ll take care of ‘em, hehe~!” Himiko Toga, you believe that’s what Aizawa said her name was, called out to you like she was the Romeo to your Juilet. You’re sure she believed that too. You’d heard Ochaco talk about her to you guys after the training camp. She told you about how the girl tackled Tsuyu and used these specialized needles to draw out blood from her victims. Uraraka experienced the threat head on as the girl had jammed one of her needles straight into her thigh with little apprehension.

Uraraka told you how obsessed the girl was with blood, a crazed look in her eye when the red substance came about. She said she loved her, loved her so much that she wanted to turn into her! Deku even chimed in and said the girl shouted to him delusional fantasies of wanting him to be her boyfriend. At the time, all you could do was shiver and brush off the fear the conversation brought by claiming she was “just another crazed lunatic”. Well, now that the girl is staring you down with her own redden irises, you felt your tongue shrivel up in your throat.

“Bloodied and carved up is the only way any of these nobody pro heroes could ever look cute. Though, the one daring to hold onto my darling definitely won’t be leaving here alive.” She sneered, completely flipping her personality into one of seething hate and disgust when she gazed upon Mirko. Toga’s rage could be felt from a mile away, and you felt Mirko hold onto you tighter.

“Toga, knock it off,” the green lizard man with the draping red scarf hollered at her, “we’ve got a job to do.” Though it was hard to see, you noticed the way his eyes would drift to you and quickly look away. Like he was nervous. Shy? The large clump of weapons taped and glued together as his arsenal seemed deadly but ineffective all in one. However, he moved rather quickly on his feet despite the added weight.

“Wow, such a beauty! Ugh, what an attention-seeker!” The same voice shouted two opposing sentences from across the way. You looked over and saw a man wearing a black and gray spandex suit, clutching the railing while waving his arm around. After yelling, it looked like one of his arms had a mind of its own as it grabbed his neck. It appeared to be he was trying to strangle himself with one hand, while the other hand sprung into action to stop the strangling. It was an odd battle of each arm trying to wrestle each other, as his head kept whipping back and forth shouting insults at…himself? You’re not entirely sure what’s going on there, but you hope he won’t start to try injuring himself with weapons next.

“Hmm, I agree with your first sentence, Twice. Do try to not scare our guest away so soon.” A regal tone stood out through the other members’ silliness. You wonder how much backup did these guys bring as a tall figure in a creamsicle colored jacket walked to the edge of the railing. His height was enhanced with a dark brown top hat he donned and the fancy cane held at his side. The most notable feature of his was the mask he hid behind. Marble man. You couldn’t remember his name, but you certainly remembered the way he trapped Tokoyami and Bakugou when he tried to run away with them in his grasp. You felt bubbling heat rise in your chest. Betrayal and resentment all wrapped into one swirl of hurt leaving a suffocating dead weight on your chest.

“Dabi, keep your shit under control or go back to the base. Get your asses moving. We’re here to take and leave, so don’t fuck this up for me.” An unseen voice was heard from further back on the roof. However, whoever it was got the lot of them hurrying off. Groaned complaints and witty remarks were heard, mostly from the black-haired male, but they soon fizzled out. You kept looking for where they were going, but soon you couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was silent yet again.

“Sorry, darling, but we don’t have time to stay and find out what happens next.” That is all Mirko said to you before she bent down to pull you up into her arms. Though, she didn’t move that far.

“MIRKO, BEHIND!” You heard Endeavor yell out to the woman in concern. You heard it before you saw it. A goopy, unnatural, burbling sound came from behind your form. You didn’t have a chance to turn around before a platform leather boot kicked Mirko’s crouched body away with little effort. She skidded across the cement, nearly all the way back to where Hawks and Endeavor were standing. You wanted to call out for her, ask if she was okay. As much as you’d felt unapologetic rage for how they’d decided to take your life away from you, you still cared about them. You probably gave them too much of your heart, but they’re still your mentors. The people you've looked up to for years in your training to become a hero. Right now, you didn’t want to be alone, as much as you’d begged for it in your mind tonight. Not with the threat of the League of Villains being what you’d have to face on your own.

You heard a sinister giggle from over your shoulder, and felt a calloused hand grasp your shoulder. Without warning, the memories you’d vaulted away with lock and key of the horrible training camp incident came flooding back with greater force than before.

That night, Izuku had found you. Tears dripped down your face as you hacked up a lung from the smoke in the air. If he’d found you any later, you’d probably have been passed out from the lack of oxygen. You ran alongside him, trying to find your way back to the rest of the class, toward any sign of a familiar face. After fleeing, you’d soon found the little boy who originally came with the Wild Wild Pussycats, Kota, with a villain in tow. Deku fought against the mammoth of a man who went by Muscular while you protected Kota from the falling rubble and terrain. After nearly getting thrown a million miles away, Izuku finally got the upperhand on the man, and knocked out the behemoth villain. You fled into the forest again, and after dropping Kota off with Mr. Aizawa and fending off Spinner to save Mandalay, you soon find Shoji and Tokoyami. However, Tokoyami could have been in better shape, as he was now overtaken by Dark Shadow’s power. Shoji explained that he and Tokoyami were attacked by a villain named Moonfish, which resulted in Tokoyami trying to use Dark Shadow to protect them, but Dark Shadow’s desire to take the reins was too great. Dark Shadow was destroying the forest in their rage, but Izuku was quick on his feet to think of using Dark Shadow to your advantage to help protect Bakugou from the villains as well.

You three lead Dark Shadow through the woods, and end up running into Bakugou and Todoroki who are facing off against the villain who tried to attack Shoji and Tokoyami before. Dark Shadow descended and made easy work of clobbering Moonfish, and the boys used their fiery quirks to release Tokoyami from Dark Shadow’s control. All of you hurried off in the direction of the facility, running into Tsuyu and Ochaco who’d been fighting off Himiko before she fled, and your large group prepared to get back safely as “Bakugou Protection Squad”. You didn’t get far as you finally noticed that Bakugou and Tokoyami were missing. The marble guy revealed himself and the League’s plan to take the boys hostage. He flew off, but the girls helped you, Shoto, Shoji, and Izuku fly to catch up to the villain.

You tackled Compress out of the sky, and fended off Twice alongside Shoto when the League fought against you. As you tried to run off as Shoji had yelled for you and Shoto to do, the warp user, Kurogiri, had stopped your escape. When Compress had shown the marbles of your friends being trapped, you saw red. You couldn’t let them be taken, you just couldn’t. It was the miracle that Aoyama’s precise shot of his Naval Laser to Compress’ face that gave you the chance you needed to save the boys.

Shoji had successfully nabbed Tokoyami’s marble, and now it was up to Shoto and you grab Bakugou’s. You were so close, just inches away, before he was ripped from you again. It was the scarred hands of the fire user that flooded your vision. You fell to the ground, empty-handed and desperately looking up at the man searching for any weakness in his grasp to steal the tiny blue-tinted glass ball from him. But it was too late.

It was an extra bit of torture—one that Dabi made sure you guys knew was on purpose—to release Bakugou from the marble so he could watch your failure. You saw the fear swimming in his red irises as he looked at you, the stiffness in his stance, the slight shake of his hands. He looked so…helpless. You’d never seen the boy in such a state of despair before. It was haunting. You stood on shaky fawn-like legs, ready to tear that villain apart with your bare hands, no Quirk needed. You wanted to make him pay for the suffering he put not only your class, but what he put everyone at the camp through tonight. But you were stopped with a gentle embrace.

Shoto had looped his arms around your midsection in a cage. You twisted back to yell at him to let you go, to let you save your friend, but his gaze gave his answer to your plea. He knew you couldn’t win. One eye filled with a harsh, cold steel of an unforgiving bind and the other swimming with a depth that rivaled even the ocean’s own fullness, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You thrashed and screamed against Shoto, not believing you wouldn’t come out victorious in this suicide mission. You unconsciously looked at Bakugou for aid, and it was a cruel reminder that he could save you no more. Both of you being held against your will, both of you screaming for help—one screaming bloody murder, one silent as a moonless night. The savior trying to go where the victim was being taken, but the victim commanding them to stay behind.

You’ll never forget the emptiness after Bakugou was fully snatched through the portal. You’ll never forget collapsing to the dirt beside Deku, Shoto’s arm still chained tightly around your middle, and wailing your heart out.

You’ll never forgive the satisfied gleam in that evil man’s eye. Never.

Except it wasn’t Dabi’s hand this time. You looked at the pale flesh, graying and roughed from years of neglect and self hate. The fingernails were chipped and appeared to be chewed with anxiety-ridden coping. Beneath the nails looked like they’d been clawing at a cement wall, dried blood caked underneath the unmanicured bits. The twitching pinky finger dangling frivolously above the target of your shoulder made your blood run cold.

“Miss me?” Tomura Shigaraki mumbled into your ear with a snarl. You’re sure you were shaking, but you couldn’t feel anything other than the stuttery breaths you took in and out. You could only focus on the lone finger judging the worth of your entire life. One movement too erratic and you’re nothing more than a pile of ash sitting in his rotten hands. You saw Endeavor’s mouth moving, he was definitely addressing the villain, but neither of you were paying attention to the fuming man.

“Staying to chat would be fun, but I think I’ll let them do the talking for me. I would rather spend my breath talking to (Y/N) than you losers.” Shigaraki rolled his eyes. He guided you to step aside, and you reluctantly shifted. A sloshing sounded as Kurogiri’s portal grew to be much larger. Once the portal stretched high enough, a figure swished through. They shouldn’t be here. How can they get onto UA’s premises? Doesn’t this place have some kind of security measure to protect the kids, damnit?!

As if he could read your mind, he chuckled to himself, “So nice that UA’s defenses are down for the Purge. So much easier to ransack this place when I can toss a couple of these guys onto the front lawn. Makes this boss fight a clean sweep.” Out from the portal stepped a massive monster you’d come to know as one of Shigaraki’s playthings, a Nomu.

You’d seen a couple before, namely at the USJ when All Might defeated the beast nearly single-handedly and during the time you saved Bakugou from the League and All for One, but you had never been so close that you could reach out and touch it. As it lumbered past you, you could almost taste the horrifying aura it carried. The violence just itching to break out of its skin. Its body was barely keeping the violence it desires at bay. It was easy to tell how badly the creature wanted to claw the heroes to shreds, the short gasp-like breaths it took, and the stomach-turning visual of its exposed brain and nerve endings. Its unblinking eyes held no emotion. No malice, no joy. Nothing. You’d think it was an impressively realistic Halloween animatronic if it hadn’t just shambled past you.

Then, as if this situation couldn’t get any better, a second one appeared from beyond the portal. A carbon-copy of the first, just as horrifying, just as deadly. Then a third. Three of those monstrosities stood in front of you like an impenetrable wall. The barrier of such an evil force left you feeling light headed. This can’t be happening.

“Have fun, heroes! Don’t come looking for them, unless you’re looking to free up some space on the Hero Billboard Chart. Would be a shame if some of Japan’s finest didn’t make it through the Purge, huh?” Shigaraki called out to them with a scratchy cackle. You watched the three pros prep their Quirks and bodies for the fight to come, you then heard banging from the doors of the rooftop. The doors must have been locked as you heard a hell of a ruckus behind it. Though it was a multitude of voices, deep and high pitched, and lots of them. You wondered who it could be. Your teachers? Had they chased after the pros and were intent on winning you back? Or could it be…

Oh no.

Wait. They shouldn't come up here. Please. Not with these things here, not now. The Nomus had no remorse, no moral compass. They’d kill your classmates right where they stood.

“No…wait, my friends are still here. Please—,” this was the only sliver of argument that you posed against Shigaraki, with a shaking lip and a strip of silver tears lining your lower lash line. He revealed in your fear to oppose him.

“Really? Hmm. Perfect.” Shigaraki smiled a repulsive grin at you, his wrinkled red and slightly pink eyes filled with more bloodlust than you’ve known before. He began pulling you back by the shoulder, but you chose to fight. Yanking yourself forward before a different set of hands gripped your arms, your other shoulder, and your waist. You wrung your body left and right, and you felt closer to Bakugou than you ever have before. Trapped and alone, with no foreseeable aid.

Doors banged and the yelling grew louder.

Slimy drool dripped from the blood-thirst Nomus’ mouths onto the cement floor. Frothed mouths itching to latch onto body parts and tear them off.

Hawks, Mirko, and Endeavor had looks of pure panic as they could only watch you getting dragged away. Not because of the threat of the Nomus, but because they were losing you yet again.

Your screams for mercy were only acknowledged by a calloused grasp, minus the pinky, clamping over your mouth.

And just like that, you were gone.

~ To Be Continued… ~

Far away from the light of the outside world, a dark figure resided in the shadows. A large television took up nearly the entire landscape of their wall, illuminating their body with its harsh glow. A smirk lined their lips, entertained with the events unfolding on that fateful rooftop. Multiple cameras showed all angles of the fight, of their disobedience, of their foolishness.

Not you! Heavens no, not you! Never you. You were perfect, always. Always the perfect little damsel in distress. Always the most entertaining morsel. Delicate and bold at the same time. A real palette cleanser from all the other despicable acts they’ve seen before. They’ve had a lifetime and then some to experience the tiresome, dreadfully boring reality they’ve come to unwilling terms with. However, you certainly add a wonderful zing of sweetness and spice to the otherwise flavorless mush they’ve known life to taste like. They want more.

They watched the despair fill your mind, how distraught you became over the mess they’d created. They saw your beautiful eyes, so teary and wide. So much innocence and hope for this crumbling world held inside them.

They stood, brushing off the dust from their clothes, and walked towards the door that caged them inside. Oh, how wonderful it will be to meet you again. Properly, this time.

<3 — Tag List — <3

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[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny, sorry this is such a long ask, but you’re writing is so yummy I had to see this play out… can i get a mille-feuille, sausage roll, pithivier, s’mores, mint julep, whiskey, and dark roast coffee served by charles or max, you can chose which one:)

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! thank you to all the submissions for the bakery! i love them all and i am going through all of them slowly, haha. i love writing these so keep 'em coming!! thank you! a few things were changed regarding pronouns

mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + sausage roll ("i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt.") + pithivier ("if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you.") + s'more ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + mint julep (punishments) + whiskey (degrading language) + dark roast coffee (sub!character) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk/degrading language, sub!charles, punishments, motor mouth charles, bondage, implied oral sex, cowgirl position

charles could be bound to your bed, but as long as his mouth wasn't gagged. he would be a good submissive and make sure that his mouth ran until you finished. you loved that, his dirty talk. it drove you crazy, crazy enough that you'd bind him to the bed and take a ride on his cock to fill that sexual itch you had all day.

you panted with your hands on his shoulders, "if you don't behave, i'll let the others take care of you." an empty threat. as if there were others. charles just chuckled and gave you that winning smile.

"The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

in a traditional sense, you were the dominant one and charles was more of the submissive type. he aimed to please in the bedroom, it was a reason why he was always a favourite with the women of monaco. but while he enjoyed his time with them, he fell nicely into your arms.

it was evident that you were more of the one to take charge in the relationship. like when the press caught a photo of you feeding your darling charles strawberries while you were out. or another time when you had your hand on his lower back as you stayed close to him. even though he was a big taller than you, you were still protective of the angel you called a boyfriend.

"such a good boy." you panted as you rested yourself up onto his chest. mindful of the weight on it. you had spent the last ten minutes with your hand in your boyfriend's dark hair while you rubbed your achy cunt up against his face. he was bound to the bed, seated upright with his hands behind his back. enough pillows to cushion them from the headboard.

he tilted his head back and nodded a little, "oui, madame." he panted before he looked at you. those green eyes hazy from the intense lust, "je veux plus. i want more." he swallowed, his chin and lips were covered in your wetness. the angle he orally pleasured you was odd, but he devoured you like a hungry man.

you got down to his waist and easily sank yourself onto his cock. he yanked against the binds a little bit. you were giving him exactly what he asked for and he could feel the buzz of pleasure in his brain as you wiped his face with your hand before you pulled him in for a hot kiss. he groaned against your lips as you continued to rock your hips against him.

"that’s it, fuck, that’s a good boy.” you said when you pulled away and continued to hold onto his strong shoulders. you moaned loudly against him. you could feel the heat through your body as you two moved together.

"always for you." he said, "anything for you. why don't you take this ropes off of me and let me show you how to fuck properly. i know you want it, my love. to feel me much deeper." he could feel the rush of pleasure through his body.

he knew this was a punishment.

"i don't think so, my love." you replied as you continued to ride him. your short nails dug into his shoulders as you moved against him, "you know what you did wrong. we have rules remember?"

he moaned when you kissed him once more. he felt excited and hot all over. he was always expected to be the big strong dominant one in the relationship. and while he could easily dominate on the track. it was nice for the bedroom to be under you so pretty. to let you work his cock and leave him in a state of heightened bliss. he groaned a little louder when you broke the kiss and started to move your hips faster.

he moaned then said, "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt." he said with lust in his voice, "get a lot of photos of it while you rode me." he chuckled a little bit, "you like how it all feels, you around me. you are so good to me, mon cherie." then shuddered when your pace slowed down by the thrusts got longer. the strength of them pulled words out of charles' mouth.

you made out with him sloppily as you continued to move. allowing your lover to be placid under you. you came first, your lips against his. when you finally broke the kiss after you hit your peak, you saw the redness around his soft lips. you continued to move and he continued to run his mouth.

the throb in his head was strong, the want in his body made him tense up. he shuddered at the feeling of you, you felt well beyond a dream. "you're pretty like this, madame. you take me so well. i love you, i want you. you treat me so well." he groaned a little bit as he yanked at his constraints a little more. he felt the urge to orgasm down to his bones and he knew he'd finish in you soon enough, "you complete me. you make me dirty like an animal who needs you. give it all to me." he said between hearty pants, his toned chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

he was only able to climax when you pulled him in for another hot kiss. then he arched his back a little bit. he always looked so beautiful when he climaxed. the type of beauty that struck you to your core. you managed to make yourself climax one more time before you slowed your pace to a stop.

you held his face in your hands, he rested all the weight in his head against you and looked in a state of heightened bliss. he groaned when you got off his cock and kissed his forehead. his brain was running hot and he yearned for his madame's sweet touch.

"you're going to be a good boy for me now? no more being a jealous submissive and telling your teammates how good i fuck you. i don't need the entire world to know how much of a good boy you are for me."

he gave you that charming smile and said, "mon amor." he chuckled, "i want them all to be jealous over how good we are for each other." and while you couldn't argue too much with that. as you undid the ropes, it was about the principle of the matter.

you didn't want everyone to know how much of a slut charles was <3

[callmebrycelee]

I've been mulling this over for the last few days and I figured I'd just put what I'm thinking out there in hopes that someone will understand what I'm coming from. I'm reading a wonderful fanfic where Buck leaves the 118 and goes to work at Air Operations. He is paired with Tommy and the two of them strike up a friendship and an eventual romance. I'm only a few chapters into the story and there's a conversation where Buck and Tommy are relaying their backstories to each other. Buck talks about getting crushed by the fire engine, the subsequent surgery and setback, and him suing the LAFD. Tommy talks about his time in the Army and ultimately joining the 118. He goes into vivid detail about every single awful thing he did to Chimney and Hen. He ends the story by telling Buck that even though the Chimney and Hen chose to forgave him, he can't quite move past his guilt and works hard daily to become a better person. The thing I've been mulling over is the concept of white guilt and how it often triumphs over forgiveness extended by people of color. I find this so funny because even when people of color, esepcially Black people, are at their most vulnerable and open, whiteness still finds a way to be greater than.

Now I'm not here to excuse any of what Tommy did during his time at the 118, but I have to admit that the majority of the people I have seen taking umbrage with Tommy and his behavior, even after he has been forgiven by those whom he offended, and even after he has taken strides to change, are white, non-queer individuals. And before we making this a B*ddie versus BuckTommy situation, I have seen individuals from both sides of the fence taking Tommy to task.

Before I jump into my thoughts on this, let me just say that I'm a Black man. I'm also a queer man. Most importantly I'm a Black queer man and let me tell you a little something about poor behavior from white people. It happens so much and so frequent that oftentimes I don't even see it happening until I am allowed to have a moment to process and reflect. With that said, quite a few of my close friends and acquaintances are white and all of them at some point have said or done something deliberately or accidentally offensive to me. Now not all Black and/or queer people are a monolift so let me make this very clear right now. I am speaking on behalf of myself and myself only.

Now that I've gotten out of the way, I will say that in any and all cases where I have been offended, my forgiveness is more for myself than the other person. Forgiveness is something I do to protect my peace. I fundamentally understand how whiteness works here in America and I understand how it operates. You don't get to half 39 years as a Black queer person without learning this. Especialy living in the the south. I also realize that at the apex of whiteness is the white, straight male and whether we realize it or not, we all, for the most part, at some point, seek proximity to him. You see this happen with white women, with Black men, and evenwith gay white men. In fact, the only group you don't tend to see this with is Black queer women and I believe this is because they are truly the antithesis of the white apex.

With that said, any time my friends or acquaintances have behaved badly, especially towards me, especially regarding my race and/or sexuality, I understand where that energy comes from. I really do. And, if we are being truly transparent here, there have been moments in my younger existence where I actively participated in the oppression of Black women and queer people. I, too, was a Tommy who hid myself by participating in the toxicity directed towards queer people. And yes, I felt tremendous guilt for my actions when I had time to reflect.

Here is the thing people forget about guilt. Much like grief, guilt ebbs and flows, and it doesn't really go away. What happens, or what should happen, is that your world gets bigger and bigger to the point where that grief or that guilt doesn't occupy as much space. That's exactly what I believe has happened to Tommy Kinard. Yes, he still feels bad about what he did to his friends back then (and he should) but his world has gotten so much bigger since then. That guilt that was once a loud roar is hopefully only a whisper now because he has done the work to understand why he behaved the way he did and has taken strides to be a better version of himself.

So, to all the white, non-queer individuals out there who have been taking Tommy to task for things he did a long time ago, things he's been forgiven of a long time ago, parts of himself that he has made better, ask yourself this one simple question. Why should my guilt (white guilt) be bigger than the forgiveness provided to him by those he offended? Second question I would ask you to ask yourself. Why am I demanding that Tommy actively punish himself and be punished for something he has already been forgiven of? When you answer that question, there is one last question I want you to ask yourself. Why am I feeling guilty and projecting that guilt onto someone else?

Again, I am not excusing any of what Tommy Kinard said or did during that time of his life. I just find it strange that so many of you are condemining him of something he once did when you should be asking yourself, am I actively participating in the oppression of those around me. There's a 99.9% chance you are so maybe focus on your own garden before you start asking others to clean up theirs. Also, for those of you coming at this from the angle of, well we didn't see Hen and Chimney forgive him. So what! Unless you have a camera following you around 24/7, no one will ever get to see you be forgiven of the fucked up stuff you've been doing. Most of all, stop projecting onto fictional characters. It's weird. Okay, those are my thoughts. Do what with them what you wish. As always, these are my opinions.

[jetii]

A Dance With Danger

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader

Words: 19,621 (oops!)

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, implied trauma and sex work, sexual assault type situations, canon typical violence, protective!Hunter, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, primal kink kinda? it's Hunter so...

Summary: Life has been pretty good since Hunter and the Batch unexpectedly entered your life, but you can't help but want more. When Cid offers you a job you can't refuse, you find yourself drawn back into the life you worked so hard to escape from, and Hunter's protective nature doesn't help.

A/N: I've had this one saved in my drafts for literal years, and it's a relief to finally post it. Somewhere along the way this got way longer than I intended so it's a bit of a hike to get to the smut.

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With a confident stride, you make your way through the colorful chaos of Ord Mantell City's market, a covered satchel slung over your shoulder. The city has no set market square. Instead, makeshift stalls and tents offering a variety of goods dot both sides of the street, creating a maze-like sprawl.

You focus your attention on your path, making sure not to bump into any of the other beings that are hurrying past you. The crowd thins a bit as you leave the main bazaar and head down a series of increasingly narrow and deserted side streets. A few minutes later, you step out of a shadowy passageway and into a dimly lit back alley.

Suddenly, loud gasp escapes you as you feel yourself being tugged forward and pulled into the alley's darkness, a pair of strong hands on your waist.

Before you can react, you’re yanked onto your toes and pinned against the wall, a knife jutting into the delicate skin of your neck.

"You’re dead,” a voice rasps.

But you feel no fear. Instead, you smile and laugh, leaning in to the edge of the vibroblade and pushing your body against the hard contours of the man who holds you. The weapon quickly pulls away from your neck before it can slice into you.

“Hunter!” you say, your voice laced with amusement.

In the near dark, you see his eyes flash in annoyance. 

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” Hunter admonishes.

“Oh, I’m plenty aware.”

Your eyes flicker downward toward the blade held deftly in your own hand, its tip poised towards the seam in his chest plate. He follows your gaze, eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise, before he draws back and sheathes his weapon.

He gives you a begrudging smile as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Fair play.”

You wink, sliding your knife into the sheath on your thigh. "What brings you to this end of town, Hunter? Business or pleasure?"

"Bit of both, really," he answers with a smirk, and you roll your eyes. "I had a delivery to make in the area."

You reach out to straighten the cloth around his shoulders, the red fabric soft and worn. "And how much was your cut?"

Hunter tilts his head, regarding you for a moment. "Not nearly as much as you'd think."

You pat his shoulder. "It never is, is it?"

“Where are you off to?” he asks as your hand retreats.

“Got a meeting with Cid. Walk with me?”

He nods, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk back through the market towards the arcade.

You move through the crowd in a comfortable silence, occasionally brushing against one another as you maneuver your way through the throng. You notice his gaze lingering on you as you walk, and a small smile crosses your lips. You’ve caught him looking before, but you never tire of seeing him do it.

You’re no stranger to the attention of men, and there was a time when you had relished it, but those days are long gone. Thankfully now, as you walk with Hunter, the gazes of the merchants and the other men seem to slide off you, unnoticed.

There's something different about him. He came into your life unexpectedly, and though his presence has disrupted the careful order of your days, it’s a welcome change.

He makes you feel safe. Protected. Wanted.

And he certainly isn’t hard on the eyes.

"So," Hunter begins, glancing at you. “You talk to her yet?”

“Ugh, yeah.” You roll your eyes. “Never heard her laugh so much before.”

As your foot kicks a rock in your path, he fixes you with a sympathetic look, but he doesn't say anything to try to comfort you. You like that about him — Hunter isn't a man of many words, so when he does speak, they count. And he never seems to tire of listening to you, somehow always knowing when you want to share something and when you want to stay in silence. He's good company.

“She said ‘it'll be a cold day on Mustafar before I let a circus freak tell me how to run my business,'" you say, altering your voice as you recall your boss's words. Normally, mimicking the Trandoshan makes you feel better in times like these, but it only serves to make your blood boil more.

Hunter sucks a breath through his teeth in a wince, knowing that you don't take that insult lightly. He stops walking and turns to face you, putting his hand on your shoulder to pull you aside before you can reach the arcade’s door. His hand is warm and firm, and you find yourself wanting him to leave it there.

"Hey. Look at me." His tone is commanding, but you detect a hint of warmth. You meet his gaze, taking in the rich brown of his eyes, the lines on his brow.

"Don't worry about Cid. You'll get your chance." He leans closer to you, and you're surprised at the tenderness in his voice.

A grin creeps across your lips.

"Hunter, are you giving me a pep talk?"

His expression doesn't change.

"Just a little encouragement," he says, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

You sigh. You want to believe him, but he doesn't know Cid like you do.

"She's right, though. I am a circus freak," you mutter.

"I don't see it," Hunter replies. "I mean, you are a bit of a show-off, but..."

You give him a shove, and he laughs, his eyes crinkling. You love when he does that — his smiles are few and far between, so you treasure every one you manage to elicit.

You shake your head at him, smiling in spite of yourself.

"Well, thanks. I'll take it."

He nods, removing his hand from your shoulder, a ghost of a smile still on his lips. "Anytime."

Hunter opens the door for you, and you make your way through the arcade, weaving past a group of Pantorans who are huddled together arguing over Sabacc. Hunter's brothers are already posted up at the bar, their usual spot. Omega is seated on the counter next to a bottle of some kind of soda, her legs dangling and kicking.

Cid looks up from behind the bar, her reptilian eyes narrowing in on you immediately.

"You're late," she barks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Had an appointment," you answer, giving the Trandoshan a saccharine smile. Cid doesn't ask for details, just snorts and gestures for you to join her in the back.

Omega looks at you and waves. "Hi!"

"Hey, kid," you reply, giving the girl a little wave in return. "How you doing?"

Omega's eyes light up as she speaks to you. "Good! We just got a new job. Well, we're waiting for the client to show up."

"Oh, really? That's exciting." You turn your gaze to the others, who are all looking at you, and offer a small smile. You're still a bit embarrassed by your behavior the last time you were on a job together, when you made an impulsive move and got yourself injured.

You spent several days recovering in the clinic, bored out of your mind, until one afternoon, Omega showed up to keep you company. You didn't mind her company; she was a sweet girl, and a smart one, too. She reminded you a bit of yourself at that age, though with a much better head on her shoulders.

Your attention returns to Hunter, whose brown eyes are fixed on you. He has a curious look on his face, like he's trying to puzzle something out, and you're tempted to ask him what he's thinking.

Omega looks back and forth between you, clearly noticing the silent exchange, and you give her a little wink, causing her to grin.

"Well," you say, turning toward the hallway that leads to Cid's office. "Have fun on your next job, guys."

"We will!" Omega calls after you.

In Cid's office, the older woman is seated behind her desk, the same scowl on her face that she has every time you come into the room. It doesn't matter how many times you go in there, or how much Cid trusts you — it's like her face is stuck that way.

"Sit," Cid commands, pointing a claw toward the chair in front of her desk.

You sit down, placing the satchel on your lap. The Trandoshan stares you down, her yellow eyes piercing.

"You're not gonna believe what I'm about to tell you," Cid begins.

"You're right," you reply. "I won't."

Cid snorts, a sound that you have grown used to over the years, and reaches for the bottle of liquor sitting on her desk. You watch her pour two glasses and slide one over.

"What's the job?"

Her answering grin reveals sharp teeth, and you know you're going to like what she’s about to say. "The biggest one I've ever landed. It's gonna be worth a fortune."

"Well, spill." You lean forward, propping your elbows on your knees.

"There's this artifact." Cid lowers her voice. "A crystal."

You frown. Not what you were expecting.

"Oh."

"It's supposed to give its bearer great power," Cid continues, undeterred by your lack of enthusiasm.

"Sounds like a load of bantha shit to me."

"Yeah, I know." The Trandoshan sighs, scratching her chin with her claw. "I told him I didn't believe in that crap, but the guy said he was willing to pay us 500,000 credits. Can you believe that? I can finally fix this place up, make it nice."

"500,000, huh?"

"Yeah."

You purse your lips. "Why don't we just grab the thing and sell it ourselves? Seems like there might be people out there who would be interested."

Cid narrows her eyes. "That's not how I do business, kid. If the client knows the location, it's better if we just do the job and collect the pay."

"And what if it's a set-up?"

"Then we deal with it." Cid leans back in her chair, taking a sip from her glass. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"I see." You pick up your own glass and take a swig. The liquid burns as it makes its way down your throat, but you enjoy the feeling. Better than sitting here sober, anyway. “This sounds too easy, Cid. All I have to do is go to this place and grab the crystal? That's it?"

"It's a little more complicated than that.” Cid shifts in her seat. You bite back a groan. “You see, it's already been stolen. The client hired us to find it and bring it back to him. He's got the money and the location of the thief."

"Oh, that's wonderful," you say. "Anything else I should know?”

"The thief is on his way to Nal Hutta to make a deal," Cid says, and your heart leaps to your throat. You immediately start to shake your head, the words escaping your lips in a rush.

"Cid, no. I'm not going back there."

"You go where I tell you to go.” She bares her sharp teeth, hissing.

"Cid, I'm not."

Cid snarls and rises to her feet. Her hands slam down on the desk and rattle the glass and the bottle. “This is a huge job, kid. We're gonna make bank."

"Why don't you send someone else?"

"Because I'm sending you.” She jabs a claw in your direction. "I've got a lot riding on this, so I need you to go and bring me the damn crystal."

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. The fight bleeds out of you as you realize that you won't be able to change her mind. “How?”

Cid's demeanor changes, and she relaxes, settling back into her seat. She picks up her glass and takes a sip, gesturing toward you with it. "It's pretty simple, really. You’re going back to your roots. Word around Hutta Town is Nola’s cantina is looking for new dancers, and I said I knew just the girl for the job.”

You feel yourself tense, and your fingers clench the arms of the chair.

"Oh, so you want me to dance for this guy? Maybe suck him off in the back room while I'm at it?" you snap, not bothering to mask the disgust in your voice.

Cid doesn't seem affected by your words, her expression remaining neutral. "Do whatever you have to, kid." She shrugs. "Just bring me back that crystal."

You take a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Fine."

“What?” 

A voice just outside the door gives you both pause. Your eyes widen, and Cid looks downright murderous.

A moment later, Hunter bursts into the room, boots eating up the ground between him and Cid's desk before you can blink. He crosses his arms, fixing Cid with a look that would've made a lesser being tremble. 

“Absolutely not."

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and Cid's lip curls.

“You should keep that big nose out of business that doesn’t concern you, bandana,” Cid hisses, rising from her chair again. “She’s a big girl. One who works for me and does what I tell her to."

You sigh and rub your temples. "Hunter, please —"

"No," he snaps, his gaze still trained on the Trandoshan. “You’re sending her to steal from the Hutts without backup. That concerns me.”

“Hunter, I'll be fine,” you try to interject.

“Like hell you will be.” He glares at you, and you blink, mouth falling open. You haven't seen him this worked up in a long time, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. You rack your memory for the last time someone came to your defense like this and come up short. It’s a little flattering, but it also stings a bit.

Cid slams her fist down on the desk. You flinch, and Hunter doesn't move.

"Listen closely," Cid growls. "She's my employee. I'm her boss. She's not your responsibility. Now get out of here."

Hunter's gaze is hard. You watch the muscles in his jaw twitch.

"She can also take care of herself," you interject, and Cid points at you.

"That's right, she can."

Hunter whirls on you, his face incredulous.

"You can't be serious," he spits.

"I've done a lot worse for a lot less," you remind him, standing up. You're trying to stay calm, but his words are starting to get under your skin. You hate that you have to explain yourself.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Hunter snaps. He’s nearly shouting now, and you grit your teeth. You're starting to lose your patience, and you can feel a familiar tightness building in your chest.

"I don't care how you feel. She's been doing this for a long time," Cid growls, baring her teeth. “Longer than you’ve been alive, probably."

Hunter turns to face her, and you watch him square his shoulders, preparing to go toe-to-toe with the Trandoshan. You wonder if he has a death wish, but part of you can't help but be intrigued by his brazen display.

You shake your head, reaching for the bottle of liquor.

You know Hunter and Cid are arguing, their voices becoming more heated, but the words fade away as you lift your glass to your lips and swallow. The alcohol is sweet and strong, burning down your throat and spreading heat through your limbs. You’re beginning to feel better already until the next words out of Hunter’s mouth hit your ears.

"You can't expect me to sit idly by and allow—"

“Allow?” You slam the glass down on the desk. The sound echoes throughout the small office, and Cid and Hunter both fall silent, turning their heads toward you. You fix Hunter with a glare, your eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, what exactly do you think you can do to stop me?"

Hunter's jaw clenches. "I can make you see reason."

"Or you could let her do her job," Cid says, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “Listen to her if you know what’s good for you.”

"No." He crosses his arms. “She's not going alone. It’s suicide.”

"Well, it's a good thing it's not up to you." You stand up and take a step closer, squaring up to him. You're shorter than he is, and he has a good deal of bulk on you, but he doesn't intimidate you.

Hunter's eyes widen, and you think he looks a little taken aback, maybe even a bit impressed. But the emotion doesn't last long.

His brow furrows, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to find another way to convince you to listen to him.

"I'm not letting you go."

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. This is not the first time you've disagreed about a mission, and it certainly won't be the last, but this time, you won't allow him to talk you out of it. Not with a take this big.

"Look, Hunter," you say, keeping your tone light, "I appreciate the concern, but I can handle it."

His expression shifts, and the anger and frustration in his eyes give way to disappointment. You try to ignore the way it stings.

"This is how I make my living. It's just a job, like any other," you say softly, hoping he can hear the sincerity in your voice.

He looks at you for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face.  Then he crosses his arms and shakes his head. "That's not good enough for me."

"Well, it's all I have."

He sighs and closes his eyes. “No. You're not going alone.” 

“Hunter—“

“I’m coming with you.”

The air around you seems to still. Cid sucks in a breath. Your brows knit together.

"What?" you ask.

Hunter's eyes meet yours, his expression determined. "I'm coming with you. You need backup."

You shake your head. "Hunter, no. I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking." He's smiling, and it's a soft, genuine smile. He places a hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. His gaze is warm, and it fills you with an unexpected sense of calm. "I'm offering."

You can tell he's serious, and the thought of him accompanying you both excites and terrifies you. You know you're strong and capable, but the idea of working with a partner again has you feeling nervous.

And the idea of working with Hunter specifically? Well, it does things to your insides that you don't care to examine too closely.

"What about the others?" you ask, and he shrugs.

"They can manage without me."

"That's not fair. You can't abandon them because of me.”

Hunter gives your shoulder a little shake, his expression earnest. "I'm not abandoning anyone," he says gently. “I'm coming with you. They will be fine. They're more than capable of taking care of themselves."

"I... Hunter, I don't know."

He lets out a quiet chuckle and removes his hand from your shoulder, the absence of his touch making you feel strangely bereft.

"We can argue about it, or we can agree to go together," he offers.

"Hunter—"

"Oh, this is too precious," Cid mutters, cutting off your objection. She looks back and forth between you, a toothy grin spreading across her face. "Look, lovebirds, I won't stop you if you decide to go together, but you're splitting her cut."

You open your mouth to protest, but Hunter speaks before you can, his voice low. "Deal."

"What?"

"Deal," he repeats, looking at you.

You shake your head, running your hands over your face. Your skin is burning, your mind racing. How could he be so willing to just...leave his team like this? To offer himself up for the sake of your mission, for the sake of your well-being?

It makes no sense.

And yet...

"Fine. We'll do it your way," you finally say.

"Good." Hunter gives you a curt nod.

"Good." Cid chuckles, the sound like a growl in her throat. "Here's the plan..."

“Do you really think I can’t do this alone?” you ask after nearly an hour of silence between you.

You're both en route to Nal Hutta, traveling undercover in an older model cargo ship, and you've been quiet most of the journey. Hunter had expected you to be angry with him, and perhaps a part of you was, but you've also been withdrawn and quiet. You spent the first part of the trip going over the details of the mission, and he can't help but feel like something has shifted between you.

He doesn't regret his decision, not even for a second.

He knows that you can handle yourself, that you've survived in the galaxy on your own since before he was even decanted, and he respects that. But it doesn't stop him from wanting to be there, to protect you if he needs to. It's something he can't explain, an instinct that he feels deep down in his bones.

But you're right. It isn't his place to make this decision for you.

Hunter turns toward you, his gaze roaming over your form. You're seated next to him, your legs crossed, and your gaze is focused out the viewport, watching the blue streaks of hyperspace pass you by. He wants to reach out and place his hand on your knee, to reassure you that his intentions are not meant to be condescending.

Instead, he chooses his words carefully, speaking slowly.

"I didn't say that."

You frown. "You were thinking it."

He sighs, turning back toward the viewport. "I don't think you need anyone," he admits, his voice quiet. "You're a…very capable woman."

You scoff. Yeah, he definitely could've phrased that better.

You lean forward, your hands folded together between your knees. Hunter can't help but admire the way the fabric of your shirt pulls taut against the curves of your body before he forces his eyes away.

"That's not what you said in Cid's office."

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He can't deny that his words were a bit harsh, that he allowed his frustration and concern to get the better of him, and he can only hope that he hasn't managed to completely ruin his chances with you.

"I'm sorry about that," he says. "But I can't help how I feel."

"What is that supposed to mean?" you ask, your tone sharp. Hunter turns his head, finding you looking at him, your gaze curious and intense.

"I—" He pauses, licking his lips, searching for the right words. He can't very well tell you the truth. That you've come to mean more to him than he ever intended, that he's grown to care about you and respect you. That he's not sure he can let you out of his sight again, at least not until this is all over.

"It means that I'm concerned," he finally says, settling on a version of the truth that feels easier, less risky.

"You don't need to be," you reply, crossing your arms.

Hunter wants to reassure you, but the truth is, he's worried about you. The thought of you walking into that den of Hutts, alone and defenseless, makes his blood boil.

You've been tight-lipped about your past, and he hasn't pressed you, but he can tell you're hiding something. And the idea that you're going to be forced to relive it, forced to face whatever trauma you've endured, leaves him feeling uneasy.

He has his own demons. He can only imagine what yours might be.

"Look, I know what I'm doing," you say when he doesn't reply, your voice softening.

"I know you do,” he says quietly, his fingers drumming against the armrest.

“Then why did you come?”

He inhales sharply, exhaling through his nose. It isn’t an easy question to answer, especially given the tumultuous state of your relationship. He’s long since given up denying his feelings for you, but you're a wildcard. You’re unpredictable, and he never knows where he stands with you.

There are times when he feels like he could just tell you, but the timing is never right. You’re always on your way out the door, or off to some job or another. You flit in and out of his life like a ghost, and he can never seem to catch you.

And then there are moments when you're close, when he's caught you staring at him, when your fingers have lingered on him just a bit longer than necessary. There are times when he swears he sees something there, something soft and tender in the way you look at him. But then you put the walls back up, and he's left wondering if he’ll ever truly be able to get close to you.

Still, the desire to confess his feelings is always there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity. At this point, it's almost inevitable, but he knows that it will take time, patience.

And so, for now, Hunter settles on an answer that isn't entirely the truth, but that's not exactly a lie, either.

"I couldn't let you go alone."

You blink. "Why not?"

He's quiet for a moment, searching for the right words. 

"It’s not a regular job, cyar’ika. This is dangerous. I know from experience how often missions go sideways, variables change…with the Hutts involved, it complicates things.” He sighs. “And I couldn’t just stand by and watch you go into that den alone."

You purse your lips. "I could handle it."

"I know you could," he says, the corners of his lips quirking up.

"You're insufferable," you mumble, shaking your head.

He chuckles. "Maybe, but I'm telling the truth."

"Mmm."

You look back out the viewport, your expression thoughtful. He watches you for a moment, taking in the subtle curve of your cheek, the delicate arch of your brow. There's a slight flush to your skin, and he knows that you're trying to hide the way his words are affecting you.

It's adorable. You don't blush easily, and seeing the color rise in your cheeks makes him want to lean closer and press his lips to your temple.

The urge is almost overwhelming, and he's forced to look away.

It's strange, the effect you have on him. He's used to keeping his emotions in check, used to being in control, but around you, he feels like a ship spinning out of control. You make him feel things he's never felt before, and it scares him. Hunter is far from the only man who has noticed how beautiful you are, but it's more than just your physical appearance that draws him to you.

There's something about the way you move, the way you carry yourself, the way you speak, the way you fight. It all appeals to him on a primal level. He feels protective of you, and the desire to keep you safe is strong, but the urge to make you his is even stronger.

He's not sure if it's just lust or something more, but he knows that he wants you. Badly.

He just doesn't know how to tell you.

"So, you came along because you were worried about me?"

His attention returns to you, and he finds you looking at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He doesn't return the expression.

"Yes."

Your smile falters, and you sigh. "Hmm."

"What does that mean?"

You turn away from him again, staring out at the stars. He can tell that there's something on your mind, something that's bothering you.

He knows that asking will only push you further away, and so he bites his tongue, resisting the urge to prod.

"Just that you're a bit of an ass, is all," you say, and the words are soft, without any real bite.

He laughs, and you shoot him a small grin.

"I never said I wasn't," he retorts, and you snort.

"Yeah, I suppose not." You smile.

Silence stretches between you, but it's not as awkward as he expects. Instead, it's comfortable, and he allows himself to relax a bit. He missed this in the short time you've been apart, the easy banter, the feeling of being close to you.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," he says after a moment, keeping his tone light.

You shake your head. "It's okay."

He studies your face. There's no anger there, only acceptance. It's not the reaction he expected, but he's grateful for it.

"Really," he continues. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't do it."

"It's okay, Hunter." You pat his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I know you're just looking out for me."

He swallows hard, his eyes dropping to where your hand rests on his arm. You must notice his gaze, because your fingers curl slightly, and a shiver runs down his spine.

“I appreciate you tagging along. Even if I don’t think it’s necessary,” you admit, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s nice to have some company for once.”

His heart swells at the confession, and he nods, unable to speak. You're looking at him with such openness and affection that it nearly knocks the breath from his lungs. He's grateful when you finally pull away and return your gaze to the viewport.

"Just don't let it go to your head," you add.

Hunter chuckles, leaning back in his seat. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he admires you.

It's not the first time he's wondered what it would be like to kiss you, to run his fingers through your hair, to feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, but it's the first time he's considered acting on his desires.

It's a tempting thought.

One that he quickly pushes aside, not wanting to make a fool of himself. You're not some random stranger at the cantina or an easy conquest. You're important to him, and he wants to take things slow, to treat you with the respect and reverence that you deserve. No matter how attractive he finds you, no matter how badly he wants you, he can wait.

He hopes.

Hunter feels his body heat up, and he forces himself to look away, clearing his throat. Now is not the time. You turn your head and give him a questioning look, and he realizes he hasn't spoken in several minutes.

"So, um..." he begins, trailing off as he tries to find the words.

"What?"

"I didn't know you could dance," he says.

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh?"

He nods. "I don't think I've ever seen you dance before."

You smirk, and the look makes him feel warm. Your brow arches. "Oh, you don't know the half of it."

He doesn't know what he was expecting you to say, but it wasn't that. His eyes widen slightly, and he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Is that right?"

You nod, crossing your legs. He tries not to stare, but his eyes are drawn to the exposed skin of your thigh, and he swallows hard. You laugh softly, and the sound makes him look back up at you.

"Yeah, it's part of my act."

"What?"

You nod. "Back in the day, I had a routine."

"A routine?" he repeats. Not because he didn't hear you, but because he doesn't know how else to respond. His mind is supplying him with all sorts of images, and he can't seem to focus on anything else.

"Yeah. It's pretty standard. Some dancing, some acting, a little bit of seduction..." You trail off, giving him a coy look.

Hunter blinks, his brain finally catching up with the conversation. He sits up straighter in his chair, clearing his throat.

 "Seduction, huh?"

"What? You don't believe me? That hurts, Hunter. I'm hurt." You pout, placing a hand on your chest, and he bites back a groan.

"No, I, uh... I didn't say that."

"I can be very convincing when I want to be," you murmur, leaning closer.

His heart rate quickens, and he licks his lips. He has no doubt that you could be, especially with the way you're looking at him. He's seen how good you are at manipulating others, and he knows you're probably just messing with him, but his body is responding to your advances nonetheless.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low and husky when he speaks.

"You should show me sometime."

The tension between you is palpable, and he finds himself leaning closer to you, his body moving of its own accord. Your gaze drops to his mouth as the space between you shrinks. His skin tingles, his lips parting, and he's almost certain that you're going to kiss him.

Instead, you sit back, grinning.

"Maybe I will."

He exhales slowly, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. You're watching him with an amused look on your face, and he can't help but chuckle.

You're infuriating, and he should be frustrated, but he isn't. You're teasing him, and it's working. You're pushing him to his limits, testing his self-control, and he's enjoying it. It's not something he's experienced often, but he's finding that he likes it. He's never met anyone who has made him feel like this, and he wants more.

Hunter leans back in his chair, breaking eye contact, and you giggle. He closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face, groaning softly. When he looks up, you're watching him with a knowing smirk on your face. He can't help but smile back.

"We should probably focus on the task at hand," you say, your voice light and teasing.

"Yeah. Probably." He shakes his head, the corners of his lips still turned up.

"Right. So...let's go over the plan one more time."

He nods and takes a deep breath. "Right."

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Nal Hutta smells every bit as awful as you remember. The stench is overwhelming — the swampy miasma of rotting vegetation, pollution, and the smell of too many beings packed into a small area. Inside the cantina isn’t much better, but at least you can breathe without choking on the fetid air.

You make your way through the crowded club, the music blaring and the lights dim. You can feel eyes on you, the patrons watching as you pass. You ignore them, keeping your gaze straight ahead. You're dressed to impress, and your clothes leave little to the imagination. You're showing a lot of skin, and while the outfit is functional, you still feel a little vulnerable, but you've always enjoyed being the center of attention.

You've changed a lot in the last few years, but there are some things that will always stay the same.

Your hips sway to the beat as you cross the dance floor. You catch a few admiring glances and appreciative stares, but the one you feel most keenly is Hunter's. He's watching you, keeping his distance, and you can feel his gaze burning into your back as sure as if it was a physical thing.

Normally you find Hunter’s protectiveness endearing, but right now, it's nothing short of infuriating. When you returned to the ship to tell him Nola had given you the job, he insisted on coming along. Not that you would have allowed him to stay behind, but it would have been nice to have a say in the matter.

You had hoped that by allowing him to accompany you, he would have enough faith in you to allow you to work alone.

You were wrong.

He's been glued to your side since the moment you landed, hovering, and watching, and making you nervous. It was like pulling teeth getting him to agree to hang back and let you handle the situation on your own, and even now, his presence is distracting.

You try your best not to look Hunter’s way. You’re supposed to be making eyes at every customer, after all, not just the brooding man posted dutifully in a corner booth, an untouched drink in his hand. And he is brooding. You can practically feel his displeasure coming off him in waves as his eyes follow you around from table to table.

Thankfully, no one else seems to notice. They’re much too busy drinking, gambling, and attempting to grope you as you walk by to detect anything amiss. Your gaze flicks up briefly, and you catch his eye, and you see the way they narrow as a drunk patron reaches out and grabs your wrist.

You freeze, the touch like ice on your skin. The man yanks you forward, pulling you close enough to speak directly into your ear. "How much?"

You stiffen, and your stomach roils.

"Sorry," you mutter, pulling your wrist free. "Not for sale."

You don't wait for his response. Instead, you turn on your heel and walk away as quickly as you can without breaking into a run.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you duck around a corner, pressing yourself against the wall as you take a few breaths, trying to calm yourself. It's embarrassing, really, how rattled you are by such a simple gesture. It's only a stupid drunk patron, and yet here you are, hiding in the shadows and struggling to pull yourself together.

You curse under your breath. You’ve done this a hundred times, and you aren’t some wide-eyed child. There's no reason to let the encounter affect you so deeply.

Except, it's the first time you've been back in a place like this since you left.

You shake your head, taking a deep breath and forcing your hands to unclench.

Get a grip, you tell yourself.

A hand settles on your shoulder, and you flinch, your hands flying up in front of you.

“Easy, sweetie," a vibrant pink Twi'Lek murmurs.

You lower your hands, giving the woman a shaky smile. "Sorry, Isa."

"I get it." Isa shrugs, the motion jostling the crystalline beads dripping down her bodysuit. Isa pulls off the look far better than you could ever hope to, and she's got an ease about her that comes from years of experience. It’s no surprise she’s the longest-standing employee here and the most well tipped.

"I don't blame you for being skittish,” she says, retracting her hand. She makes a disgusted noise in her throat. “These people are all sleemos. You want something stronger to drink before the show?"

You shake your head. As much as you'd love one, you're going to need a clear head to make it out of this alive. "Thanks, though," you say.

"Alright, just let me know if you change your mind. You're gonna do great, kid. Just stick to the choreography, and you'll be fine."

You nod, stomach in knots. Isa breezes by and steps on stage as the crowd hollers and cat-calls, the music beginning. You watch as she performs her opening routine, her movements hypnotic and graceful. She's a beautiful woman, and you can see why the patrons are so drawn to her.

"Hey," Hunter's voice is in your ear, his tone soft. You shiver at the sound. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. "Just a little nervous, is all."

He's silent for a moment, and you picture him frowning. You know he's probably not happy that you're doing this, but there's nothing he can do about it. Not now, anyway.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, Hunter."

"You can always abort the mission," he says, and your stomach sinks.

"I'm fine," you say, and you can't keep the edge from your voice. "Don't worry about me."

You make your way behind the stage, palms sweaty and pulse pounding. As you wait for the cue, the music changes and spotlights hit the stage, bathing it in bright light. You watch Isa dance gracefully and feel a twinge of envy. You used to be like her, graceful and seductive.

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, steeling yourself. You can do this. All you need to do is play your part and keep your head on straight. The target is the only one that matters.

It doesn't take long for Isa to step off stage, smiling and waving to the crowd before passing you with an encouraging grin.

The announcer calls out your name, and you step onto the stage.

Hunter has been a soldier for years, and he's seen a lot of things that would make most people recoil in disgust or horror. He's been shot at, stabbed, nearly blown up on more than one occasion, and that was all before he and his brothers started working for Cid.

But nothing has ever shaken him the way watching you perform does.

His mouth goes dry, and his jaw drops. He's thankful the cantina is so dim, because he knows he's staring, but he can't help himself.

You're beautiful, your hair swept up, the pale blue light casting a glow over you. And the way your hips move, and your back arches, and your lips curve into a teasing smile, make his blood heat and his heart pound. His eyes follow you as you move, your body twisting and undulating to the music. It's a sensual display, and one that he knows is part of the act, but your movements seem to reach out to him, pulling him in.

Your hips roll, and your fingers slide down your thighs, the sheer fabric of your dress clinging to your body, and the light from the stage highlights the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your movements are graceful, and it's clear that you're no stranger to performing, and yet, there's an edge to them. An intensity. A hint of danger.

The way you're moving, the way you're looking at the crowd, the way you're teasing the audience... It's like watching a predator stalking its prey, and he finds himself transfixed, his body reacting to your every move. 

The crowd is eating out of the palm of your hand, and Hunter is right along with them, transfixed by you.

As if sensing his thoughts, you glance at him, a wicked smile curving your lips. It's a look that makes his pulse race and his imagination run wild. He can almost imagine you whispering in his ear, telling him to meet you after the show. He can see you taking his hand, leading him to your room and letting him explore every inch of your body. He can picture what it would feel like to touch you, to taste you, to bury himself inside you.

Your gaze lingers for a moment longer before you turn away, the music growing louder. When you spin around and bend over, giving him a full view of your backside, he knows it's intentional.

You're teasing him, and he can't say that he minds.

Your hips sway and gyrate, your hands traveling over your body. He knows he should look away, should give you the respect and privacy that you deserve, but he can't.

He wants you.

The thought hits him like a freight train, and he feels the blood rush to his groin. His breath catches, and he licks his lips, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It's a thought he's had before, but it's never been this powerful. It's more than desire, more than a passing fancy. It's a burning need that he can't deny. He's never wanted someone the way he wants you, and the realization leaves him reeling.

He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and focus on the clientele. He can hear the wolf whistles and cat calls, and it makes his skin crawl. But as much as he wants to go up on stage and put an end to this, he knows he can't. Not yet, at least.

Instead, he does what he does best and watches the room, observing. Most of the audience is made up of humans, a few Twi'leks, and a smattering of other species. There are a couple of Hutts, their massive bulk taking up two tables, and several other creatures in the dark corners of the cantina. Hunter has a feeling they're the reason for the high number of bouncers posted at the doors.

This is the sort of place that draws the dregs of the galaxy, he thinks, just as his eyes catch sight of a pale horned head at the bar. His back is to him, but he doesn't need to see his face to know that it's your man.

Hunter tenses, and his fingers twitch.

There you are.

As you dance, you can hear the crowd cheering, and you let the music carry you. You’ve spent many nights in places like this, and you can read a crowd. You know what the patrons want to see, and you can give it to them. You just hope you were attracting the right attention.

When the song ends, you give a little bow and blow a kiss at the crowd, the smile plastered on your face feeling more natural than it did a moment ago. The applause and cheers follow you as you turn to leave the stage, and your legs feel like jelly as you walk, your breath coming hard.

“I have eyes on the target. Zabrak at the bar in the blue vest," Hunter rasps in your ear.

You glance out of the corner of your eye toward the bar. A Zabrak you saw earlier was wearing a blue vest, and sure enough, there he was. He’s in conversation with the droid bartender, which gives you the opportunity to examine him further. You spot his hip pack — likely where he’s storing Cid's crystal — and smile. It’s almost too easy.

The target turns suddenly and catches you looking at him. You mask your surprise with a flirtatious wink, and his expression immediately dissolves into one of interest. He takes his drink from the bartender and lifts it in your direction before taking a sip.

Over the rim of the glass, you can see the darkness of his gaze, and a plan immediately begins to form in your mind. It's not the one you'd intended to follow, but it will work just as well.

“I’m engaging,” you mutter quietly to yourself.

"What? No!" Hunter hisses in your ear.

"Hunter, trust me," you insist. "This is what I do. Let me do my job."

"Your job?" he snaps, his voice rough.

"Yes," you reply sharply, your irritation rising. “I can get the crystal without you having to lift a finger. Just keep your head down and let me do my thing."

"I don’t like this."

"Trust me."

Hunter is silent, and you can practically feel his disapproval.

Fine. Let him be upset. You can handle yourself.

You take a deep breath, your eyes still locked with the Zabrak. He’s decently attractive, with strong features and an impressive physique. Not the worst mark you'd ever had, that's for sure. You can do this.

You give him a coy smile, turning and making your way down the stairs and over to the bar. Your hips sway as you walk, and you put a little extra swing in your step. He keeps his eyes on you as you approach, and the closer you get, the more you can see the clear lust in them. Cid mentioned he had a thing for human women during the briefing, but this was something else.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he says, his voice a low rumble.

You smile and lean against the bar, your fingers tracing patterns on the worn surface. "I was hoping you’d say that."

"Why's that?"

"Because you seem like the kind of man who could show a girl a good time." Yuck.

"Is that right?" he asks, leaning closer. His hand brushes against your hip, and his breath tickles your neck. "And what makes you say that?"

"Call it a hunch," you say, smiling coyly.

"You have good instincts."

"I have a few," you say, your gaze flicking to the pack at his waist. You lean forward, your hand cupping his cheek. “Is this seat taken?” 

The Zabrak smiles, revealing yellowed teeth and sharp canines as his eyes rake over you. He sets his drink down on the bar and turns toward you to pat his lap with a clawed hand.

Pushing down the shudder threatening to creep up your spine, you slide onto his legs. Your arms wrap around his neck so your fingers can caress the back of his bare skull. The leathery texture of his skin feels wrong, but the claws on your hips are much worse.

His fingers squeeze your flesh, and you fight the urge to flinch. You hate this. Hate being this close to someone, hate the way their hands roam your body. It's too familiar, too dangerous. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, and your skin crawls. But this is the only way to get what you need.

"I'm Vesh," he tells you, his voice deep and gravelly.

You respond with your name, your voice a whisper.

Vesh repeats it, and his fingers flex on your skin. "It's a pleasure."

"Mmm," you murmur, your hand trailing down his chest.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he says as you swing your legs around to dangle off the side of his own.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. At his nod, you lean in closer, nose nearly brushing his ear. “It’s my first day.”

He draws back and grasps your chin with a clawed thumb and forefinger. You resist the urge to jerk your head away as he brings your face close to his.

"Is that right?" he asks, his breath hot on your skin.

"Mmhmm," you nod, your fingers curling into his vest. “You’ll tell me if I’m doing a bad job, won’t you?”

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he growls, his hand sliding up your thigh, "I'll make sure you're nice and thoroughly trained."

The innuendo is glaringly obvious, and the implication is clear. You can't help but wonder if he thinks he's being charming. He's not.

You force yourself not to recoil from his touch. Instead, you lean in, pressing your body against his. "I hope so."

You hum, running your hands over his chest, the muscles beneath your palms tense and firm. Your gaze drops to his hip pack. It would be so easy to snatch the crystal and run, but the last thing you need is to alert him or the guards. Instead, you allow him to tilt your head, your body pliant in his grasp.

As he leans down to kiss your neck, you can hear a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl over the comlink.

“I’m coming over," Hunter rasps.

“Don’t!” you blurt out. Vesh makes to withdraw, and you quickly hold onto his neck to keep him in place. “Um, don’t stop. You’re so good at that.”

He needs little encouragement from there. With dry lips, he mouths at your neck and chest, hands moving to caress your waist and thighs. You give sighs in all the right places, leaning into his touch, all the while feeling a pair of eyes burning into you from across the room.

It's an easy plan. One you've pulled off more times than you can count. Seduce the target, steal the goods, and run.

What you didn't anticipate was your reaction to Hunter's presence. The way his gaze is practically boring into you, his displeasure rolling off him in waves. Or the possessive noise that escapes him when Vesh touches you. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once.

It's been a long time since someone has felt so protective of you, and while it's unnecessary, there's a part of you that likes it. It's a heady feeling, knowing that someone cares enough about you to get angry on your behalf.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Vesh's hand slip under your dress. You tense, your thighs clenching around his leg. He growls in your ear, low and throaty, and his hips buck up, grinding against you. His claws rake across your skin, leaving burning trails behind.

It takes every ounce of your willpower not to pull away and run. Instead, you force yourself to stay put and focus on the task at hand.

Vesh's free hand reaches up to cup your breast, and your breath hitches.

"So eager," he murmurs, his voice thick and heavy with lust.

"I can't wait," you purr, your eyes sliding over his shoulder to meet Hunter's. His gaze is molten, and his jaw is set, a muscle ticking in his cheek. You force yourself to turn back to Vesh, a smile on your lips. "Why don't we take this somewhere private?"

"I like the way you think." He grins and nearly shoves you off his lap as he moves to stand.

Vesh leads you forward with a hand on your lower back towards the staircase leading to the private rooms. You glance over your shoulder in the hopes of meeting Hunter's eyes, but he's nowhere to be found. Kriff. You wanted to do this alone, and now here you are. Alone.

Once you reach the top of the stairs, the target takes you by the hand and leads you down the hallway. It's empty, and you can feel your stomach sinking with every step you take. You try your best not to drag your feet, but the hot breath on your neck and the hand pressed against you is anything but encouraging.

When you arrive at a door at the end of the hall, he crowds you against it, eagerly pressing his hardness to your lower back as he wraps an arm around your stomach. He types in the code, and as soon as the door slides open, he releases you to shove you inside.

The room is a small square with a bed and a single chair. The only other door leads to a refresher, but much more worth noting is the small window embedded deep in the wall behind the bed. It'll require climbing up to reach, but it's large enough for you to slip out and drop to the roof below. Easy.

The door slides shut, casting the room in shadow.

Time to put your skills to use.

"Don't move," Vesh orders. There’s a strange, misplaced sound, like metal clicking, and it takes you a moment too soon to realize.

You turn slowly, and the sight that greets you makes your blood run cold. The barrel of the Vesh’s hand cannon stares you down, his glowering face just behind it. 

“I must say, you put on quite the display back there,” he says with a tilt of his head.

You swallow hard, your eyes flicking from the blaster to his face.

"But you just had to go and ruin things, didn't you?" he snarls, taking a step toward you. “You almost had me convinced. But I know what you’re really after.”

You freeze, your eyes widening. You try to keep your expression neutral, but you can feel the panic rising in your chest. Your eyes flick to the door behind him, hoping beyond hope that it hadn’t locked automatically.

"You think I haven’t dealt with thieves before? You're not the first,” he sneers. “Though I will admit, you are the most attractive."

"Well, you got me." You hold your hands up, palms facing outward. "I'm sorry. Now, just let me go, and we can forget this ever happened."

Vesh gives a mirthless laugh. "Oh, I don't think so." He steps closer, his grip on the blaster tightening. "I think you're going to stay right here and do exactly what I tell you."

“Wait—let’s talk. I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”

“How about this: you strip, and I’ll think about not blowing your pretty little head off. How does that sound?"

Your eyes dart from the gun to the door, then back again. Your mind is racing, and you know you need to think fast. If you can get close enough to him, catch him by surprise, you might be able to make it out of here in one piece with your prize.

You bite your lip, considering. If you play your cards right, this could work in your favor.

"Okay, okay. I'll do whatever you want," you say, your voice trembling.

"That's my girl," he growls.

Slowly, you reach up to the straps of your dress, letting them slide down your shoulders. You can feel his eyes on you, drinking in every inch of skin as it’s revealed. You hate the way he looks at you, and the thought that this is for him makes your stomach turn, but you need to buy yourself enough time.

Vesh’s breathing becomes heavy, and he shifts his weight, his grip on the blaster slackening ever so slightly.

"More," he growls, his eyes darting to the exposed swell of your breasts.

You take a step forward, then another, until the barrel of the blaster is pressed against your collarbone. The metal is cold, and the promise of death lingers in the air. But it's enough. It gives you just enough room to maneuver.

You prime yourself to spring forward, your fingers closing around the handle of your knife, but you’re thrown off when the door slides open, bathing the room in the light of the hall.

A gloved hand appears, pushing the blaster aside, and Vesh lets out a surprised grunt. You stumble backwards, your back hitting the wall as you watch Hunter take down the Zabrak. You barely blink, and then the target is flat on his back, his weapon kicked aside and Hunter's foot pressing his windpipe into the floor.

He leans down, and your breath catches.

"Stay down," he growls.

Vesh sputters and coughs, his hands clutching at Hunter's boot. He tries to speak, but Hunter's foot only presses harder.

"What the hell are you doing?" you gasp, your heart hammering in your chest.

"I told you I was coming," he replies, his eyes never leaving the man underneath his boot.

"I had it under control," you insist.

"Like hell you did!"

"What is it with men not thinking I can handle myself?" you demand, throwing your hands up.

"I can't leave you alone for a minute without you nearly getting yourself killed," Hunter snarls, the anger rolling off him in waves. Vesh pushes against his boot, but Hunter's knee presses into his chest, effectively pinning him.

"Get off me!" Vesh spits.

Hunter leans in, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You’re lucky I don’t kill you."

"What the hell are you even doing here, Hunter?"

"Making sure you don't do something stupid," he shoots back.

"I had everything under control."

"Under control? It looks to me like he was about to have his way with you!"

"That was the plan," you retort.

"Plan?" Hunter's gaze snaps to yours, and his eyes are dark. He looks furious. "You mean you were going to let him—"

"He was about to give me what I want," you cut him off, your temper flaring.

Hunter's expression hardens, and he turns back to the Zabrak, pressing his weight onto the man's throat. Vesh coughs and struggles against the pressure, but Hunter's relentless.

"Hunter, stop," you shout, panic rising in your chest. This is going downhill fast, and if you don't do something, he is going to ruin everything.

"No," Hunter says, his voice tight. "He doesn't get to hurt you."

You move forward, grabbing his shoulder and tugging. He doesn't budge. "Hunter, listen to me."

He opens his mouth to reply, but he hesitates, tilting his head. A second later, you hear heavy footsteps pound up the stairs and down the hall.

"We need to go," he snaps.

"No, wait, we’re so close—"

"Now!" Hunter pulls Vesh up and pushes him against the wall before grabbing your arm and dragging you to the window. He throws the latch, and it swings open.

"Go," he orders, gesturing for you to climb through.

"What about you?"

"I'm right behind you. Go!"

You don't need to be told twice. You scramble up the wall and slide through the window, dropping down onto the roof below. The sound of shouting and running feet comes from behind you, and you spin around to see Hunter climbing out the window.

"Come on," he says, grabbing your arm again and pulling you across the roof.

You run to the edge, and you hesitate. "It's too far," you say, looking down at the narrow street below. 

Hunter doesn't seem to hear you. He blows past you, scaling down the wall with ease. You watch him go, jaw slack. Is he really just going to leave you behind?

He reaches the bottom of the alley and turns back, his face illuminated by the glow of the street lamps. "Jump! I’ll catch you.”

“You can’t be serious!" You yell.

"Do you want to get caught or not?" he yells back, his arms spread wide.

You glance back, and your heart leaps into your throat. Vesh’s angry face appears in the window, followed by his hand cannon.

There's no time. You have to go.

Taking a deep breath, you jump.

For a terrifying moment, you feel weightless, suspended in midair. Then, strong arms wrap around you, catching you and pulling you close. You fall back against the wall together, and you bury your face in his neck, your heart pounding.

"See, I told you I'd catch you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

"You're crazy," you mumble.

"And you're reckless."

You lean back and glare at him, and his grip on you tightens. You can't believe he dragged you away from the job like that. He ruined everything.

"What now?"

"Now we get the hell out of here and go home," he says, setting you down on your feet. You immediately pull out of his grasp, ignoring the way his hand lingers on your arm.

"What?" you hiss. "What about the job?"

"Forget the job." His hand moves to grab yours. "We're leaving."

You let out a sigh and let him pull you along. As you run through the streets, your mind races. The night didn’t go the way you planned, but somehow, you made it out. And if you’re honest with yourself, a part of you is relieved. Relieved that you didn’t have to go through with your plan. Relieved that Hunter was there to protect you. But your relief is tinged with frustration. Frustration at yourself for letting your guard down. Frustration at Hunter for being right. 

And, more than anything, frustration at the fact that you’re going home empty-handed. Again.

As you run, the sounds of the city fade away behind you, and you can't help but feel like this is only the beginning. Like this is just the start of your troubles. Because the truth is, Hunter’s right. You are reckless. And when it comes to your own safety, you’ll do whatever it takes to get what you want. Even if it means risking your life.

As soon as the two of you are back on the ship, the doors seal, the engine rumbles to life, and the atmosphere around you turns yellow and then black. You let out a breath and lean back in the copilot’s seat, your stomach roiling.

Hunter doesn't look at you.

He didn’t say anything as you entered the cockpit behind him, his jaw tense and his expression blank. When you sat down, he put the ship on autopilot, and then simply stared out the window, his eyes fixed on the stars.

You can't stand it. The tension in the air between you, the unspoken words. It’s suffocating. You've never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and you hate it.

"Hunter..." you start, not even sure where you're going.

"Don't."

The word is harsh, sharp, and it cuts through you like a knife. Your mouth clamps shut, and you sit back in your seat, your eyes wide.

Hunter's gaze is still fixed on the stars, his expression inscrutable. You can't read him, can't tell what he's thinking. He's closed himself off to you, and it hurts more than you want to admit.

"Hunter, please."

He shakes his head, his fingers tightening on the controls. You can hear them creak under his grip. "You should shower.”

"What?"

"You should shower. Clean yourself up," he repeats, his voice tight.

"No," you snap, your temper flaring. You don't care if he's upset. He doesn't get to treat you like this.

His shoulders tense, and his jaw clenches.

“You smell like him,” he elaborates.

Your blood runs cold. You didn't notice. The adrenaline must have been covering up the scent, but now that he mentions it, you can't help but feel the ghostly touches. Hands and claws and lips on your skin, the scent of booze and cigarra smoke.

You suddenly feel guilty, and it’s not a feeling you're used to. Your hands clench into fists in your lap, and you try not to think about the way his lips felt on your neck, the way his hands felt on your body.

Your mouth opens and closes, the words stuck in your throat.

 “We’ll talk when you’re done,” Hunter says, his eyes still not meeting yours.

You sit there for a moment, your hands clenched tightly in your lap, and you can feel the heat building behind your eyes. You know he's right, but it doesn't make it any easier. 

“Fine.” You swallow thickly and stand up, your legs trembling slightly. The crystals dangling from your dress ping together with the movement, and you swear you see him flinch at the sound. You don't look back as you head out into the common room.

You grab some clean clothes and your toiletries and head into the refresher. When the door closes, you sigh and lean against it. You can still feel his hands on you, and you want to scrub your skin raw until there's nothing left. You shake your head and push the feeling away. It's not productive. Instead, you strip and step into the shower, allowing the water to wash away the night.

It was far from the first time this has happened to you, but it never gets easier, not entirely. You’re just numb to it. Just another in a long line of unsavory decisions you've had to make in an effort to survive in the galaxy. To feed yourself and keep a roof over your head. To get what you need. But this... this feels different, somehow.

Hunter shouldn’t have seen you that way. He shouldn’t have seen you so desperate, so willing to do whatever it took to get what you wanted. No one should see you that way. But especially not him.

You scrub your skin until it’s red and raw, but it doesn't seem to matter. The shame and frustration inside you continues to build, your fists clenching and unclenching as you replay the scene over and over in your mind.

The way Hunter looked at you, the anger and disgust in his eyes.

It's the same way everyone else looks at you.

You've always been seen as less than. Less than worthy. Less than capable. Less than important. It's not something that's ever bothered you before, but now, in front of him, it does.

It stings.

It shouldn't, but it does.

And you hate it.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to relax, your shoulders slumping. The water cascades down your body, washing away the grime and dirt, the evidence of the night's activities.

It's not a big deal, you tell yourself. Hunter was just trying to help. And maybe you needed the help.

As much as you hate to admit it, he's right. You were reckless. You're used to being on your own. To making your own decisions and dealing with the consequences. Working with a partner — a team — is new. Not bad, necessarily, but definitely new. Hunter made it clear from the start that you're in this together, but clearly he wasn’t ready to see you like this.

It isn't the first time you've used your body to get what you want, and it won't be the last. It's a useful tool, one you've honed to a razor-sharp edge. You can read a room and a target in an instant, and you're always prepared to think on your feet.

Hunter’s seen you at your best — smart, witty, skilled. But now he's seen you at your worst. Vulnerable. Desperate. Pathetic.

And he doesn't like it.

You understand why. You don't like it either.

As soon as you’re clean and dried, you get dressed. You don’t linger in the refresher, don’t even bother to look in the mirror. You just grab your things and leave. You have no desire to spend more time than necessary hiding away.

When you return to the cockpit, Hunter is still there, his eyes fixed on the streaks of light outside. He doesn't turn to look at you, doesn't acknowledge your presence, and the silence between you grows thicker and more oppressive.

"You want to talk," you say at last, breaking the tension. "So let's talk."

"Fine." Hunter stands and pushes past you, stalking through the cockpit toward the common room. You follow, your heart hammering in your chest. You're not sure what to expect, but whatever it is, you know it's not good.

As soon as the two of you are in the common room, Hunter rounds on you, his expression dark.

"You jeopardized the mission."

Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

"Excuse me?" Your anger flares, and you step closer to him, your chin jutting out. "Need I remind you whose mission this is?"

"And need I remind you that we're a team? We're supposed to work together."

You scoff, shaking your head. You can't believe him. After all that, this is what he's upset about?

"We are working together," you snap.

"Is that what you call it?” Hunter growls. "Because to me, it looked like you doing everything you can to prove you don't need my help."

"I don't!”

"Clearly." His words are heavy with sarcasm, and it makes your skin crawl.

You hate him, hate the way he makes you feel, hate the way he can read you so easily. He's always been able to see through you, and it makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. You can't stand it.

"Look, I don't need you telling me how to do my job."

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't so reckless," he shoots back.

"Reckless?" Your voice rises, your temper getting the better of you. "That's rich coming from you. I'm not the one who charged in there guns blazing and nearly got us both killed."

"But I'm not the one who was going to sell myself to some lowlife for a chunk of rock!”

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" he snarls. He steps closer, looming over you, his eyes dark with anger. You refuse to be intimidated, but your stomach does an unpleasant flip.

"Yes, really," you snap, holding his gaze. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"You went off script. We agreed we’d approach the target together and you just went right up to him!” He’s shouting now, and his voice echoes in the small room. "You didn't tell me the plan. You didn't wait for my signal. You just acted without thinking. Just like always."

"I had it handled," you yell back. You jab at his chest plate with a finger, and unsurprisingly, he doesn't budge an inch. If anything, he leans closer.

"Handled? You call getting caught 'handled'?"

"If you hadn't barged in, I would have had him eating out of the palm of my hand," you insist.

"You can't be serious. That man was seconds away from having his way with you!” he shouts. “He was going to use you, and when he was done, he was going to kill you. And I wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing about it."

You scoff and roll your eyes. This is ridiculous.

"So that's what this is about? You're mad because I didn't let you play the hero?"

"Haar'chak, I'm mad because I'm the only one around here who seems to care if you live or die!"

You reel back as if struck. You're not sure if it's the sudden realization of what he said or the fact that he's shouting in your face, but whatever the case, it feels like a punch to the gut.

You open your mouth to retort, but no words come out. Hunter's eyes are dark, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a tight line. He's breathing hard, his nostrils flaring. You've never seen him like this, so angry and out of control.

"You don't think. That's your problem. You act on impulse and don't think things through. It’s like you don’t care at all about your own safety."

"So what?" you finally manage.

"So what?" Hunter echoes, his voice incredulous. He steps back, his arms gesturing wildly. "So, what if you hadn't been able to seduce the target? What if he had seen through your little game and shot you? What if I hadn't been there to stop him?"

"Well, thank the Maker that you were, isn't that right?"

"This isn't funny!"

"I'm not laughing," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You're so--" He breaks off, and takes a deep breath. His hand covers his face, and he shakes his head. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and strained. "You act like it doesn't matter, like your life doesn't matter. But it does."

His words take the wind out of your sails. You've never heard him sound so... defeated. Like he's tired of fighting. Like he's given up. It's unnerving.

You're scrambling for something, anything to keep your anger burning. It's the only thing holding you together right now. If it fades, if you let yourself feel the shame and guilt and humiliation, you'll fall apart. And you can't let that happen.

"You don't understand," you mutter, turning away from him.

"You're right, I don't.” He grabs your shoulder, forcing you to face him. His eyes search yours, his brow furrowed. "I don't understand why you're so willing to throw yourself into danger like that. You deserve better than that."

"Better than what?"

"Better than this." He gestures around the ship. “Better than having to use your body as a weapon. Better than letting Cid take advantage of you."

"That's my choice," you snap, pushing his hand away, and it falls back to his side. "This is my life, Hunter. This is what I've had to do to survive. It's not pretty, but it's the only way I've found that works."

"There's a better way," he says, his voice firm.

"Not for me. Not when all I have is this." You gesture to yourself, to your body, and he flinches, his jaw clenching. "I have nothing. I'm nobody."

"You're not nothing," he insists, stepping closer to you. "And you're not just some weapon to be used and thrown away. You're important."

"I'm not."

"You are," he says, his voice low and rough.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Because I—" He pauses, and his gaze softens, his eyes searching yours. "I care about you. I care about what happens to you."

The words echo in the small space between you, hanging in the air like a bomb ready to go off. Your heart races in your chest, and you take a step back.

"Hunter, I—"

"No, don't." He closes the gap between you, his hands reaching out for yours. "Just, please, just listen. I know I'm probably the last person who should be telling you this, but you need to hear it. You need to know that you're more than just a body to use. You're so much more. You're strong, and capable, and kriff, you're brave. Too brave. But that's not a bad thing. It's just part of who you are. And I..."

His hands are warm on yours, his voice a low rumble. Your stomach twists into knots, and your head spins. Hunter cares about you. He's said the words aloud, and you don't know how to process them.

No one has ever said that to you before. Not like this.

"I know what it's like to be used. To be seen as nothing more than a means to an end. I know what it's like to do things you're not proud of." He pauses, his eyes searching your face. "And I don't want that for you."

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart aches. You can't believe what you're hearing.

“I’m sorry for yelling." Hunter says, his voice strained.

"It's fine," you mumble.

"It's not. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. But seeing you like that, with him..." His jaw clenches, and his fingers flex around yours. "I hate it. I hate seeing you like this, using yourself like this. You deserve better, and I'm not just saying that. It's true."

You're not sure how to respond. A part of you is still angry, still hurt, still defensive. But a larger part of you is moved by his words, by the concern in his voice. He means what he's saying, and that's enough to make the knot in your stomach loosen ever so slightly.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize."

"No, I should. You're right. I should have talked to you before I did anything. I should have trusted you."

"It's not that I don't trust you," he says, his hands sliding up your arms. "I do. I trust you with my life. But I care about you too much to watch you get hurt."

"Hunter, I—"

"You don't have to say anything. I know I've probably crossed a line, and I'm sorry. I just had to say it."

"Thank you," you murmur.

You feel him shift, and when you open your eyes, he's close. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against him. He rests his chin on top of your head, his grip tight. It feels good, being held like this, and a sense of peace washes over you. You're not used to feeling safe, but with Hunter, you do. It’s a bit terrifying that he’s come to mean this much to you.

His thumb strokes along your spine, and you lean further into his touch. It's intimate, more than you're used to, but it's nice. More than nice. You've never had anyone hold you like this, care about you like this, and it makes you feel warm all over.

"Say it again," you whisper.

"I'm sorry," Hunter repeats, his tone questioning. You pull back and meet his eyes, and the worry, the hope in his expression is enough to take your breath away.

"No, the other thing," you say.

Realization dawns on him, and a small smile plays across his lips. "I care about you."

This time, when the words are spoken, they don't hurt. They don't sting or burn. They settle over you like a warm blanket, like a comforting embrace.

You smile, and a small laugh escapes you. It's a silly, stupid sound, but you don't care.

"You care about me," you repeat, as if saying the words will make them more real.

"I do," Hunter says.

His hands cup your cheeks, and he tilts your head up, his gaze searching yours as his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, and then he's kissing you, his lips warm and gentle on yours. You close your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest as you melt against him. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and a soft moan escapes your lips.

Kissing Hunter is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. It's soft and sweet, but there's a hint of hunger, of desperation, like he's been holding himself back. You can't help but smile, and his lips curl into a smirk against yours.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath hot on your skin. You feel giddy, drunk on the kiss, and you can't keep the smile from your lips.

"Hunter..." you begin, but you're not sure what else to say.

"I meant it," he says, his voice a low rumble.

Your smile widens, and your hand reaches up to trace along his jaw. His stubble is rough under your fingers, and you can't help but admire the sharp lines of his face.

"I care about you, too,” you whisper.

He smiles, and his arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your heart is still racing, and you feel like you're floating, like your body is made of stardust and light.

Hunter's gaze is tender, full of affection, and it's almost too much to bear. He makes you feel like you're the only person in the galaxy, and it's a feeling you've never experienced before. It's overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

"I'm still mad at you," he whispers.

"I know," you say, smiling. "But I'm mad at you, too."

"Fair enough."

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours once more. The kiss is brief, but it sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but chase after him as he pulls away.

He lets out a muffled noise of surprise as you crash your lips onto his. You kiss him, hard, pouring everything you feel into the moment. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as he kisses you back. His mouth is hot and insistent, and you feel the heat of desire pool in your belly.

You've kissed plenty of people in your life, but never like this. Never with such abandon, such need. Never with such raw passion. You can't get enough of him. You press your body against his, desperate to be closer, and he responds in kind. 

It's like a dam has burst, the two of you crashing together in a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues. Hunter guides you back until you’re pushed against the wall, his body caging yours. His hands are everywhere, on your waist, your hips, your breasts. Your fingers dig into his back as your leg lifts to hook around his waist. He takes the hint and grabs it, then the other, lifting you up.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and his hands slide under your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin. He pins you against the wall with his body, and you can't help but moan at the contact. You're already aching for him, and the feeling of his codpiece pressing against your core isn't helping.

When his lips finally leave yours, you're gasping for air, your body trembling with need. Hunter's eyes are dark and wild, his lips swollen from the kisses. You've never seen him look so undone, and the thought that you did this, that you're the one responsible for the desire burning in his gaze, makes you dizzy with lust. 

He looks at you, his gaze raking over your body, and he swallows hard. His voice is low and husky when he speaks.

"I can't believe I almost lost you," he says, his breath warm against your skin. "If anything happened to you..."

"It didn’t," you whisper. You reach out and gently trace the outline of his tattoo. "I'm here. I'm safe."

"You scared the hell out of me.” His eyes meet yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. "Don't ever do that again."

You bite your lip, and a sly smile spreads across your face.

"What?" Hunter asks, his eyebrow quirking.

"It's just..." You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "You're kind of a hypocrite."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I'm not the only one who does reckless, stupid things." You tilt your head and smile at him.

His brow furrows, and then realization dawns on him. He chuckles, and a sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"You may have a point," he admits, and you laugh.

You lean in, your nose brushing against his. His eyes flutter closed, and he leans into the touch, his lips brushing against yours. It's gentle and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body is pressed against yours, and you can't help but sigh softly.

"What a pair we make, " you murmur.

"That we do," he agrees. His eyes open, and he pulls back slightly. His gaze is intense, his pupils blown wide. His hands are still on your thighs, and you can feel his thumbs moving in small circles on your skin. It's a tiny gesture, but it makes your heart race, and a shiver runs through your body.

The tension between the two of you is almost palpable, and you can't stop staring at his lips, at the way they're slightly parted, like he's waiting for permission.

You don't hesitate.

You kiss him, hard. His lips are warm and soft against yours, and you feel him smile. You can't help but smile too, a laugh bubbling up in your throat.

The kiss grows deeper, and Hunter's tongue slips past your lips. His hands move from your thighs to your waist, pulling you closer. You're completely pinned against the wall, his body flush with yours, and your hips cant against his, desperate for some kind of friction.

He lets out a low groan, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You gasp, and his grip tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He trails his lips down your jaw, and his teeth graze over your neck, his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin.

"Hunter," you gasp, your head falling back against the wall. He lets out a groan and grinds his hips against yours, his codpiece rubbing against your clit as his hands slip under your shirt.

The feeling is electric, and you can't help but buck against him, desperate for more. He responds in kind, his body rocking against yours, his mouth hot on your skin. Your fingers bury themselves in his hair, pulling him closer, and his lips trail up to your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

"Do you want me to stop?" he murmurs.

"Stars, no."

Hunter laughs, and his lips find yours once more. You can't help but moan, the kiss sending sparks through your body. His hands slide up your sides, his thumbs brushing over the curve of your breasts. You arch into his touch, and his fingers deftly unhook your bra.

He pulls away just enough to lift your shirt, and you let your bra fall off your shoulders, your hands reaching up to help him take it off. You're left completely bare from the waist up, and his gaze is hungry, his eyes roving over your exposed skin.

He doesn't give you a chance to feel self-conscious. His hands are on your breasts, kneading and squeezing, his thumbs rolling over your nipples. The sensation is incredible, and you gasp, your head falling back against the wall. His head ducks down, his tongue trailing over your skin. When his mouth closes around one of your nipples, you nearly lose it, a moan tearing from your throat.

Your fingers bury themselves in his hair, and you can't stop yourself from grinding against him, the pleasure building inside you. His teeth graze over your nipple, and his hands slide down your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants.

"Please," you whimper, the word slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

He lets out a low, satisfied hum and kisses his way across your chest, his mouth hot on your skin. One hand cups the back of his neck, pulling him closer, while the other grabs his wrist, urging him lower.

Hunter doesn't disappoint. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants and underwear, and then he's stroking you, his fingers sliding easily through your slick folds. You let out a choked moan, your hips bucking against his hand, and he smiles against your skin, his teeth grazing over your nipple.

“Never thought I'd hear you beg," he murmurs.

Your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, his thumb presses against your clit, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. His touch is electric, and your hips rock against his hand, desperate for more.

Hunter chuckles, his breath hot against your skin, and then he’s pulling away, his fingers slipping out of you.

You nearly whine, the loss of contact making you ache, but then he's dropping to his knees in front of you, and you can't think of anything else. His hands find the waistband of your pants and underwear, and he slowly, tantalizingly, drags them down your legs. You step out of them, and he tosses them aside, his gaze raking over your naked form.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his hands sliding up the backs of your legs.

He doesn't give you a chance to respond. He hikes a leg over his shoulder and presses a kiss to your inner thigh. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and a low, needy sound escapes your throat.

"Hunter..."

He doesn't need any more encouragement. He moves in, his tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your folds. Your hips jerk, and he lets out an obscene groan, his hands sliding up to grip your ass. He pulls you closer, his tongue circling your clit before flicking over it.

"So good," he rasps against you, and the sound goes straight to your core.

You can't help but moan, the pleasure building inside you, his mouth hot and wet and insistent. Your hips roll against his face, and his fingers dig into your skin, his breath coming in ragged pants.

He devours you, his tongue delving inside you before returning to your clit. He alternates between teasing licks and hungry sucks, his pace relentless, his desire to make you come clear in his every movement.

The way his mouth moves over you, the way his tongue works you over, it's unlike anything you've ever experienced before. He's focused, his eyes closed, his lips and tongue working tirelessly. He's clearly enjoying himself, and it shows.

You've never had anyone eat you out with such enthusiasm. With such need.

His fingers spread you open, and his tongue plunges deeper, his nose rubbing against your clit. It's almost too much, and you can't hold back the moans spilling from your lips. His mouth is perfect, and the pressure is building, the pleasure mounting. You're so close, so kriffing close.

Then, his eyes open, his gaze locking onto yours.

And he doesn't look away.

He holds your gaze as his mouth works you over, as his tongue swirls and flicks and teases. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, and there's a hunger in them that takes your breath away. Hunter's always been intense, but this is different. This is a whole new level, and it's enough to send you hurtling over the edge.

You come, hard. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you let out a cry, your orgasm ripping through you as you double over, your fingers gripping his hair for dear life. He doesn't stop, his tongue licking up every last drop of your release. Your hips buck against his face, and he groans, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

It's a long moment before you come down, and even then, you're trembling, your body flushed and spent. You can barely stand, your legs weak, but Hunter's arms are there, supporting you. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and you let out a shaky breath.

When you finally manage to open your eyes, Hunter's still kneeling in front of you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Enjoy yourself?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Maker, yes," you say, laughing. You shake your head and run a hand through your hair, your mind reeling. “You’ve been holding out on me, Sergeant."

Hunter stands and takes your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours. There's a heat in his eyes, a desire that makes your breath catch in your throat. His thumb brushes over your lips, and he leans in, his mouth ghosting over yours.

“Want more?” he whispers.

"Please."

The word is barely out of your mouth before his lips are on yours, his kiss hot and hungry. He pushes you back, and you let him guide you, his mouth never leaving yours. He steers you until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bunk, and you stumble backwards, landing on the bed with a small yelp.

Hunter doesn't waste any time. His hands move to the latches of his chest plate, and he quickly removes it, letting it clatter to the floor. The sound of it hitting the ground echoes through the ship, and a jolt of anticipation runs through you.

You're really doing this.

You're really going to have sex with Hunter.

As he steps out of his boots, the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and your stomach does a little flip.

You've been dancing around this, whatever this is, for weeks. Months, even. You've wanted him, wanted this, and now, you're finally going to have it.

It's exhilarating and terrifying, and you can't wait.

Your hands reach out for him, and you undo the belt at his waist. It falls to the floor, and he lets out a soft chuckle, his hands finding yours. He lifts them up, and places a gentle kiss on each of your knuckles, his gaze meeting yours.

The gesture is sweet, tender, and it takes your breath away. Your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but smile, a fluttering feeling filling your chest.

This man, this soldier, who's seen and done so much, and still manages to be kind and caring.

Who makes you feel safe.

Who makes you feel cared for.

You can't believe your luck.

"Hunter," you murmur, unable to look away from him.

He pauses, his eyes searching yours.

"What is it?"

"I..." You trail off, not sure how to express what you're feeling. It's all too much, and the words don't seem enough.

He lets go of your hands and cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"It's okay," he says. “We don’t have to do anything you're not ready for."

You laugh, a small, breathless sound. "No, that's not it. I want this. I want you."

His eyes widen, and he swallows hard. For a moment, he doesn't move, doesn't speak. Then, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Force, the things you do to me," he murmurs, his thumb running along your bottom lip.

You can't help but smile.

Then, his lips are on yours, and the rest of the world fades away.

It's not a gentle kiss. It's raw and desperate, a primal need driving the two of you. His hands are everywhere, and yours are, too. You can't get enough of him.

Your hands tug at the fastenings of his blacks, and he pulls away just long enough to shed them along with his briefs, leaving him naked before you.

Hunter’s skin is hot beneath your fingertips, his muscles taut and defined. You can't help but admire him, his broad shoulders and trim waist, the dark tattoos that cover one side of his body, the scars that mar his skin. He's a sight to behold, and a small sigh escapes your lips.

"See something you like?" he asks, a playful tone in his voice.

Your eyes dip lower, following the trail of hair down his stomach, and a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. His cock is already hard and straining, the tip glistening with precum. You bite your lip, and when you glance back up, you catch him watching you.

A blush rises to his cheeks, and he gives you a sheepish grin.

"Like I said, the things you do to me," he repeats.

You laugh, and reach up, pulling him in for another kiss. You let yourself fall back, and he follows, his body covering yours.

His skin is soft and warm, his muscles firm under your touch. You let your hands roam, sliding over his shoulders, his back, his ass, anywhere you can reach as he pins you underneath him.

He shudders under your touch, his hips rolling against yours, and a groan escapes his lips. The feeling of his cock sliding against your clit, even with him between your legs, is enough to send a shiver through your body. You can't help but arch up into him, and he lets out a soft grunt, his breath hot on your neck.

“Kriff, you're killing me," he murmurs.

You laugh, and nip at his neck. He gasps, his hips jerking against yours, and you can't help but revel in the feeling.

Hunter is usually so in control, so disciplined, but you can see that control slipping, his restraint crumbling. It's a powerful feeling, knowing that you're the one who's making him lose his mind, and a sense of pride washes over you.

You slide a hand between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock, and he lets out a choked moan, his body tensing above you. Your thumb teases the sensitive tip, spreading the precum around, and he drops his head to your shoulder, his breathing ragged as his eyes squeeze shut.

"Fuck, that feels good," he groans.

"Yeah?" you ask, giving him a squeeze.

"Yes," he breathes, his hips rocking into your touch.

"I bet you'd feel better inside me," you murmur.

"Fuck, I bet you're right."

His mouth finds yours, and he kisses you, deep and hard, his tongue exploring yours. You stroke his cock, slowly, and he lets out a muffled moan, his hips thrusting against you.

His hands slide down your body, grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart. The movement is rough and sudden, and a small gasp escapes your lips as he holds you open. Your hand falls away from his cock, and he takes the opportunity to settle between your legs, his body pinning you against the bed.

He rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy, his eyes locked onto yours. The weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the tension between you is almost too much, and your heart hammers in your chest.

He reaches down, taking himself in his hand, and rubs the head of his cock against your clit. The sensation is incredible, and a choked moan falls from your lips.

He gives a small, teasing thrust, the tip just barely entering you, and a shudder runs through your body. You want him so badly, and he's barely giving you anything.

You let out a frustrated huff, and Hunter smirks.

"Ask nicely," he murmurs.

You swallow, the heat building between you, and your mind is reeling. You’re too far gone to worry about your pride, and if that's what he wants, then that's what you'll give him.

"Please, Hunter," you breathe, and he lets out a low groan.

Then, finally, he pushes inside you.

It's slow, agonizingly so. His tip pushes past the tight ring of muscle, and then he's stretching you, inch by glorious inch, the feeling of his cock filling you stealing the breath from your lungs. The way he’s holding you open, the angle he's at, it's all perfect, and it's all for you.

He doesn't stop until he's fully sheathed inside you, and even then, he waits, his cock pulsing against your walls, giving you a moment to adjust. The teasing look in his eye is gone, replaced by a heated desire. He watches you, his gaze roving over your body, drinking in every detail.

The feeling is almost overwhelming, being stretched so completely, and you let out a shaky breath.

"How does it feel?" he asks, his voice strained.

"Good, really good."

He smiles, and gives a small, experimental thrust. You both gasp, the pleasure of the movement making your toes curl. He does it again, and again, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back, and his eyes close, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

"Don't," he grunts. "I'm barely hanging on as it is."

"Don't what?"

“If you keep that up, I'm not going to last."

The words send a jolt through you, and a wicked idea crosses your mind. You rake your nails down his back, and he groans, his cock twitching inside you.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, his grip firm. You can't help but laugh, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"That's not playing fair," he chides.

"What, you can't handle a little teasing?"

He laughs, and shakes his head, his eyes locked onto yours. Then, he starts moving, his hips rolling into you, his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt.

The rhythm he sets is steady, but deep. Each thrust is deliberate, calculated, and the way his cock fills you, the way he stretches and rubs against your walls, it's enough to make you forget everything but him.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes," you gasp.

"What else do you want?"

"I—"

You're not sure how to answer. You're not used to someone asking you what you want, what you like.

"Tell me," he says, and his fingers lace together with yours, pressing your hands against the bed.

The intimacy of the gesture sends a rush through your body, and your walls clench around his cock. He lets out a surprised noise, his eyes fluttering shut.

When he opens them again, his gaze is intense, a hunger burning in his eyes. He looks at you, really looks at you, and you feel a thrill run through your body.

You take a deep breath, and try to focus, to collect your thoughts.

It's not easy.

He's not making it easy.

You think back to all the times the two of you have been together, all the times you've teased each other, all the moments where the tension between the two of you has threatened to boil over.

There's a question you've always wanted to ask him, a fantasy you've had ever since you first met him.

And now, it seems like the right time to ask.

"I want...I want to know what it feels like to have you come inside me."

He goes still, his cock throbbing inside you, and a shiver runs through his body.

His eyes widen, and he stares at you, his mouth slightly agape. For a moment, neither of you say anything. You hold his gaze, and your cheeks flush, the confession hanging in the air.

Finally, he lets out a strangled groan, and his head drops to your shoulder.

"That's..." He trails off, his voice rough.

"Is that not—"

"No, that's..." He groans, and his hips buck against yours, his cock pulsing.

You let out a breathless laugh.

You never would have thought Hunter could be flustered. But here he is, the man who can stare death in the face without flinching, and the mere thought of coming inside you has him practically vibrating.

"I've never done that," he confesses, and his voice is barely a whisper.

The confession is surprising, but it's not entirely unexpected. Hunter's life hasn't exactly given him a lot of opportunities to indulge in pleasure.

"Do you want to?" you ask.

"Yes." He lets out a low growl and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "But only if you're okay with it."

"I'm more than okay with it," you say, smiling. "I want to feel it."

"Maker, you're going to kill me," he murmurs.

His voice is a low rumble, and a shudder runs through you. The desire in his words is undeniable, and the thought of him giving into it, letting go, makes you dizzy with lust.

He shifts, releasing your hands, and his own move down to your hips. He pulls out of you, and you can't help but let out a disappointed whine, but before you can protest, he flips you over, pressing your chest against the mattress as he guides your knees beneath you.

He moves behind you, his hands running up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and a moan escapes your lips. Your cheek is pressed against the sheets, and the vulnerability of the position sends a shiver down your spine.

You feel his fingers part your folds, his thumb brushing over your clit. His other hand slides down your back, and then his cock is pushing back inside you, filling you completely. The position allows him to go deeper, and you feel him hit the furthest point inside you, a choked moan escaping your throat as a flood of heat washes over your body.

He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, and his hands come up to rest on either side of your head. He's practically bent over you, his hips rolling against yours, and the feeling of his weight bearing down on you, the sensation of his skin warm against yours, it's enough to drive you crazy.

You can't believe this is happening, that the two of you are finally here, after all the teasing, all the flirting, all the stolen glances and secret smiles. You feel his lips on your neck, his breath hot and ragged, and a low moan slips past your lips.

You're not sure how long you can last like this, his cock buried inside you, his body pressed against yours, his hands pinning you in place. And judging by the way his hips are thrusting, his pace growing erratic, he's not going to last much longer either.

The thought sends a jolt through your body, and you push back against him, eager to meet his thrusts. He lets out a choked sound, his fingers digging into the sheets, and his breath is hot against your neck.

"Stars, that feels good," he pants, and his voice is strained. “I’m getting close."

The words send a rush through your body, and you can't help but clench around his cock. The feeling makes him groan, and his hands leave the bed, wrapping around your body. One grips your hip, his fingers digging into your skin, while the other finds your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his thumb.

"I'm going to make a mess of you," he murmurs, and his voice is low and rough, the promise in his words sending a shiver down your spine.

The image flashes through your mind, of Hunter's cum leaking out of you, staining the sheets, and a surge of heat washes over your body, making your toes curl.

"Do it," you breathe, and he groans and pinches your clit, making you gasp.

"I will," he says, his voice a low rumble, and you feel his mouth trail up the back of your neck. His lips find your ear, and his breath is hot against your skin as he speaks. “I want to feel you come, and then I'm going to fill you up. Do you want that, cyar’ika?"

The words are practically a growl, and the raw need in his voice sends a shiver through your body. You can't take much more. Between his words and his cock, you're about to lose it, and his thrusts are becoming desperate, his movements frantic.

“Please,” you whimper, and that's all he needs to hear.

His thumb presses hard against your clit, and his hips snap forward, his cock burying itself inside you. The pleasure is intense, and a cry falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut as the orgasm tears through you.

He doesn't stop. He keeps thrusting, his rhythm fast and uneven, his breath coming in ragged gasps as your walls flutter around him. You're overwhelmed, your senses overloaded, and you can't help but buck against him, riding the waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Fuck, that's it," he moans, and his fingers tighten on your hip.

His pace is punishing, and the pressure builds, his cock slamming into you with each thrust. He's lost himself in you, and you love it, the knowledge that you're the one bringing him this pleasure.

You feel his cock twitch inside you, and he lets out a broken moan, his hips stuttering. And then, he's coming, burying himself as deep inside you as he can get as his cock pulses. The feeling of his cum spilling inside you, the wet, warm heat of it, sends a shockwave through your body, and another wave of pleasure washes over you.

It's the most intimate, the most erotic thing you've ever felt.

Hunter shudders against you, his body shaking as he gasps, his breath coming in short, harsh bursts. His hips jerk, and his grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you still as he empties himself inside you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, neither of you speaking. The only sound is the ragged breathing coming from both of you. It takes a few minutes for the haze of pleasure to clear, and when it does, he slowly pulls out of you.

He collapses on the bed beside you, and you roll onto your back, looking up at the bottom of the bunk above you.

You're completely spent, the adrenaline and pleasure leaving your body. You glance out of the corner of your eye and smirk.

Hunter is staring at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his eyes wide.

"You alright, Sergeant?" you tease.

He lets out a huff and turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Give me a minute," he says, and lets out a laugh, shaking his head.

He's beautiful like this, relaxed and carefree, his hair a mess, his face flushed. It's a far cry from his usual serious demeanor, and the sight sends a wave of affection through you. You want to reach out and touch him, but you're not sure if that’s what he wants. You’ve never really done this, never had the opportunity to have someone stay afterwards.

You're not sure what the protocol is, or if there even is a protocol. Do you cuddle? Do you make small talk? What if he's expecting you to leave?

“C’mere.”

Hunter pulls you against him, his arm wrapping around you, and your worries fade away. You snuggle closer, resting your head on his chest and throwing your leg over his. His body is warm, and his heartbeat is strong and steady, a comforting rhythm against your ear.

Your eyes flutter closed, and for a long moment, the two of you simply lay there, content to enjoy each other's company. His hand trails lazily over your arm, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

A small, satisfied sigh escapes your lips.

You didn’t expect this to happen, but stars, are you glad it did.

The thought crosses your mind that maybe you should have some regrets, maybe you should have second thoughts. But you can't find it in yourself to care. There is a question on your mind, though, and it’s one you can’t help but ask.

"What does cyar’ika mean?" you ask, your hand tracing the outline of his tattoo.

Hunter tenses, his body going rigid beneath you. You immediately regret asking, and you start to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding you in place.

“Did I say that?” he asks, his voice quiet.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He's silent, his fingers absently tracing the outline of your shoulder. You're afraid he's not going to answer, but then he sighs. “It means sweetheart. Darling. Something like that."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Oh," you manage, and your cheeks flush.

"Sorry, it's...it just slipped out. I wasn't thinking." He shifts, pulling back just enough to look at you, and he looks almost nervous. “You don’t mind, do you?”

"Mind?” You blink, and shake your head. A smile tugs at your lips, and you let out a small, surprised laugh. "No, I don't mind."

His brow furrows, and he stares at you, his eyes searching yours.

“It's just...no one ever called me anything like that before,” you say, a little embarrassed.

A surprised expression crosses his face, and then his expression softens. He cups your face in his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"They should have,” he murmurs.

It's such a simple, earnest statement, and the emotion in his voice makes your chest tighten. You look away, suddenly overwhelmed, and a shaky laugh slips past your lips.

“I’m nothing special, Hunter. Not really."

He lets out a small scoff, and the hand on your cheek guides your face back to his, his gaze locking onto yours.

“You are to me."

There's no hesitation in his voice, no uncertainty. The words are spoken with a quiet conviction, and the weight of them settles around you, a warmth blooming in your chest and flushing your cheeks. Your heart flutters, and you swallow, suddenly at a loss for words.

"You're cute when you're flustered," he murmurs, his tone teasing. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be shy."

"Shut up," you grumble, and his smile widens.

"No, I mean it. I love seeing this side of you." He pulls you in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. When he pulls away, his eyes are warm, his gaze filled with an affection that takes your breath away.

Your heart swells, and you can't help but smile.

It's too soon for love. You know that. But the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, it makes you feel things you've never felt before. It makes you feel like it might be possible, one day.

And that's enough.

You rest your head on his chest again, your hand reaching up to run through his hair, and he lets out a sigh, relaxing against you.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," you mumble, unable to stop the words from coming out.

"That's true." His voice is quiet, his touch gentle, and he nudges you, his chin pressing into the top of your head. "But I'd like to learn. If you'll let me."

You're not used to being asked for anything, much less given a choice. Hunter's words, and the implication behind them, leave you speechless. You stare up at him, not quite sure what to say, and his expression falters, uncertainty crossing his face.

You swallow, and nod.

A grin spreads across his face, and he looks like he's trying to suppress it, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's a rare sight, a genuine, unguarded smile from him, and you can't help but chuckle.

The sound is enough to break him. His expression softens, and a low, rumbling laugh escapes his chest, the sound filling the room. You lean in, and kiss him, slow and tender. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and his laughter fades, replaced by a contented sigh.

You've never felt more comfortable, more safe.

Or more at home.

As the two of you lay there, tangled together, you realize something.

You're not sure how it happened, or when, but somewhere along the way, Hunter became a part of your life. And now, it seems impossible to imagine a life without him.

And for the first time in a long while, the thought of the future doesn't fill you with dread.

It fills you with hope.

You fall asleep like that, wrapped in his arms, your bodies pressed together.

You sleep better than you have in a long time.

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[radioapplerevue]

Radioapple Fic Recs (updated 7/8/24)

Finally got around to organizing a rec list. Going to pin this, since I see people ask for recs a lot. I expect I'll be updating this periodically, too, as I've only just started adding things to it.

These are my personal favorites. For context, I'm an almost 40 year old aroace person whose favorite fics tend to be those who take you apart and then put you back together, haha. Putting them under a read more because I expect this to get long.

The Ruination of Lucifer by @syaunei. (Explicit)

Remember what I said about taking apart and being put back together? Nothing has come close to toppling this fic for me when it comes to emotional catharsis. One of the things I love most about it is how directly it deals with Lucifer's severe depression and the consequences of it, as well as the many, many centuries of him having to deal with just being Who He Is, Where He Is. He's terribly wounded and suffering, but he's also indisputably the King of Hell, with all the power and all the knowledge and all the experience that comes with it.

This fic also stands out for being from Alastor's POV, which I love, because as much as this fic is called The Ruination of Lucifer, the subtitle could be "How Alastor Fucked Around and Found Out". Both of them are getting broken down here, and both of them are -- hopefully -- learning how to grow and move forward. It also takes into account Alastor's asexuality and his unconventional approach towards sex, and what it can (or can't) do for him.

Mind the warnings, though, because shit does get heavy in here for a while. And enjoy the gorgeous illustrations by @betti2024.

2. Lucifer and his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship by @keelywolfe (ratings vary by part)

This series has me in a chokehold. It's considerably softer than many Radioapple fics, but it really draws you in and makes you so invested in these two idiots and how much they care about each other but also how bad they are at understanding how much they care about each other. It's Lucifer's POV, which causes Suffering not only because he's an incredibly unreliable narrator, but because there's Something Going On with Alastor that we know nothing about except that it's Bad. And we (and Lucifer) are dyiiiing to know what it is, haha.

There is a lot of sex in this series, but there's something about it that's very compelling to me, especially from Alastor's side. The way he is written in these encounters is just so... tender. It's obvious that (most of the time) he's not getting anything really in terms of sexual gratification, but he's getting a great deal in terms of gratification of a different sort, and the fact that it's so clear that he derives as much -- or perhaps more -- pleasure from that as Lucifer does from the sex itself is so delicious.

But my favorite aspect of the whole thing is that no matter what conflicts are going on -- whether outside of themselves, or of their own making -- Lucifer has become Alastor's safe harbor. And that kills me.

3. Bedtime Rituals to Try Out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis (teen and up)

Did I mention I like soft? Because I do. And there's something so lovely about the slow, careful way their relationship progresses here, especially on Alastor's side. My issue with this fic is that it ended, haha! I was so looking forward to seeing where it went, because I got addicted to the particular tender rapport that the two of them built. But being left wanting more is hardly a knock on the fic itself, and it's absolutely a treat to get to read.

4. All changed, changed utterly by @tollingreminiscentbells (explicit)

This series is very different from the rest. It's a canon AU where Lucifer and Alastor first met when Alastor was still alive, and then proceeds to go into canon events from there, with Lucifer being the one holding Alastor's leash. There's a lot to chew on, and the author has chosen to go a very different route regarding biblical mythology than the show does. Definitely something I recommend if you want a deep dive into a really meaty series, that delves into both the dynamics of Heaven vs. Hell as well as the worth of free will, as embodied by Alastor (for better or worse).

It also includes one of my new favorite recurring things, which is Alastor's 'delusional not-sex'. (It's sex.)

5. devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss (mature)

I think it's becoming apparent that I really enjoy fics that begin with the two of them butting heads, and sometimes stumbling into a huge blunder, only for them to slowly grow together into something much softer than either of them likely intended. This is one such fic. It also involves some fun stuff with the rest of the cast, and a masquerade. Gotta love that.

6. Of Saints and Sinners by @morningstarwrites (teen and up)

This fic is probably the most lighthearted of the radioapple fics I read, haha. It's a fun romp and has definitely made me laugh out loud on more than one occasion. So if you're looking for something that preserves that antagonism-to-grudging-friendship-to-oh-no-we've-caught-feelings kind of story, but with more comedy and less angst, this is the fic for you! (I mean, I have no idea if angst is going to happen in the future, but so far.)

7. hit me where it hurts (the bruising will be worth it) by RestlessWanderings (mature)

This one can only be called radioapple if you squint, but I'm including it because a) it's by far my favorite take on the hotel battle scene, b) I love when Lucifer gets fucked up and people get scared for him and c) it's technically part of a radioapple series. I don't know if that series is still going to happen, but I do enjoy this plenty on its own!

8. Lucid Dreams of New Orleans by @radiaurapple (teen and up)

This is fic has a very unusual set up -- it deals a lot with memories (mostly Alastor's) with Lucifer along for the ride. If you're interested in seeing Alastor's background and relationships in life fleshed out, with the addition of Lucifer both within those memories and outside of them (and, perhaps, a bit of the other way around), then you should enjoy this journey! Also, pining. Gotta love pining.

9. Take Your King to Work Day by @decembercamiecherries (gen)

This is just a one-shot that I love. It's funny and clever and so very, very Lucifer and Alastor in a nutshell.

10. Line of Sight by @yersifanel (ratings vary -- teen to explicit)

I really enjoyed this series that was done for radioapple week. I'm always into it when Alastor thinks he's being clever and has everything under control and then it comes back to bite him in the ass when he realizes that what he wants isn't what he thought he wanted, and isn't that fucked up, how dare this happen to him. (Basically, I love him being a melodramatic baby over things that are actually not an issue at all. ) The drama of it all! (Alastor is the drama. That's it.)

11. Hunger Pains by @theaffablescamp (explicit. VERY explicit)

This is porn. Ha no it's not just that at all, but as a heads up, this is a very explicit series. So much smut. So if you're not into that, it's not your thing. Basically, Alastor eats a lust demon which does not turn out well for him, proceeds to make a deal with Lucifer to 'fix' the problem, and then creates many many more problems for himself along the way. This series is great for the incredible mental gymnastics Alastor uses to avoid the answers that are staring him right in the face in favor of much worse ones. Also, for a confident Lucifer who often has the upper hand and tries to nudge Alastor into actually acknowledging what he wants (and usually failing). It's messy and fun and very hot.

12. Between the Shadow and the Soul by @winterveritas (explicit)

This series has a bit of a different Alastor than a lot of them, where he's interested in Lucifer off the bat and intent on pursuing him. Of course, being Alastor, he has no idea what he's doing (even when he thinks he does). I am particularly fond of the second entry in the series, because hurt/comfort is my lifeblood. Also, it includes the most creative disposal of Lucifer's wedding ring that I've seen. This series is definitely on the softer side, which is something I take comfort in when some of the other fics hurt me, lol. I certainly hope to see it continued!

Hold here for more! There are a bunch of fics I’m following but am unsure if they’ll ever be finished — which is fine, writers don’t owe us anything! But it will definitely determine how high up they are on my favorites, haha. And of course people are posting new ones all the time.

[chiharuhashibira]

What about a shorts featuring your fave Kimetsu No Yaiba teacher?

But make it Professor X Student 👀

Hey guys~ As promised! I am here again in one of my... favourite masterpiece 🤭

Thank you for answering the poll we had before~

So this will be the plan for the NSFW Series, I will finish our Special Class: Chemistry with Obanai then proceed with one chapter of the Tsugoku X Hashira and one chapter of the Oiran X Hashira.

Hope it works with y'all. Love yah hoho

Honestly I am so happy that I writing for this series again 😍

Anyways, let's start. You are very quiet 22 yo graduating-student. Obanai is 29.

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔: 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒚

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫>

Content Warnings: ProfessorXStudent/Age Gap/Suggestive/Curse Words/Matured Content/18+/Sexually Explicit/Mentions of Death/Angst/Tragedy

Minors DNI.

🌸𝑶𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒊 𝑰𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐🌸

(Images are not mine, credits to the rightful owner)

"Is that all you've got?"

Your chemistry professor, Obanai Iguro, spoke, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. Feeling the biting pain of his apathy more than any harsh criticism, you grimaced inside as you heard his remarks. His intense scrutiny pressed down on your already fragile self-assurance, forcing you to look downward.

"I... I'm trying my best, Iguro-sensei." You felt your insides tremble as you spoke with a low voice, which could barely be audible under the quiet hum of the fluorescent light inside his classroom.

You're usually the jolliest and most active student in all science classes, particularly chemistry, because you want to be a chemist. But then, everything changed four years ago when the woman you regarded as an older sister passed away because of her dedication to science and education.

You hated science. You barely make an effort at it right now because it triggers you so much. But, of course, you don't want your professor to know that. Especially because of the rumours about his "allergy to women" and so on. Of course, he wouldn't understand your pain.

With his visage frozen in place, Obanai studied you dispassionately, as if you were a specimen in an exhibit. He repeated, "Your best?" He spoke with an acidic undertone of doubt. "Well, Y/N-san..."

You gulped.

"Your best? It seems severely lacking," Obanai added, his comments cutting through your delicate self-esteem. "Perhaps you should reconsider your actions before I end up failing you this semester. Chemistry's not for the faint of heart."

After saying that, he looked away, shifting his focus elsewhere, leaving you to grapple with the aftermath of his heartless disregard. However, one could not help but detect a hint of warmth and longing concealed beneath the academic dispassion that adorned their facade of indifference.

"I heard another student cried at Shinazugawa-san's classes earlier."

"I know, right! Someone also cried at Tomioka-sensei's. What's wrong with these professors?"

"I don't know. There's another professor, though, who is a terror. That... that weird face mask guy."

"Oh, Iguro-sensei."

"Yes! I'm glad I'm not in his class."

"Yeah, me too. We're lucky that we're in Rengoku-sensei's classes all day. I wouldn't ever complain. He's a ray of sunshine!"

"Uzui-sensei too... He's handsome, too. We're so lucky!"

"DAMN YOU KIDS! YOU'RE SO NOISY! GO BACK TO YOUR CLASSES!"

You watched as Shinazugawa-sensei stepped out of his class to yell at those two talkative students. You gulped, feeling scared that he might yell at you too. But fortunately, he didn't. You can't bear having additional stress today, especially after hearing Obanai's words earlier.

But then, you clearly remembered your earlier encounter. Looking into his enigmatic eyes, you can't help but wonder about that sudden flicker of emotion that he showed you. It's hard to believe, but it seems like there is more than meets the eye when it comes to Obanai. And yes, you're kind of curious to know what that is.

You didn't know that Obanai was secretly watching you on the corner. He's used to hearing students complain about him, so it's surprising that you didn't escalate the situation after hearing them. Especially considering what he did earlier.

"Am I too harsh again, Kaburamaru?" He asked the harmless snake, who was just busy slithering on his shoulders. No answer came, of course, so then Obanai just went back to his lonely classroom.

In the days that passed, Obanai's harsh words still haven't left your mind. But yes, even if you wanted to do your best, his subject is just so hard to deal with, not because you find it hard, but because of the sad memories that it brings you.

As you sit and listen to him in his classes, you can't help but find yourself grappling with a tumult of emotions. So one afternoon, you were astounded to feel a presence beside you, only to discover it was the chemistry professor. You were startled to see his heterochromatic eyes fixate on you with an intensity that took your breath away.

"Y/N-san," he said, his voice more muted than you'd ever heard before, but with an understated strength in its tone. "May I have a word with you?"

Your heartbeats were quickening at the unexpected invitation. "Of course, Iguro-sensei," you replied, your voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Obanai led you to a secluded corner of the hallway, away from prying eyes and wandering ears of the other college students. As you both stood there, bathed in the soft glow of afternoon light, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Obanai's demeanour—a concern that belied his usual stoic composure.

"I've been watching you, Y/N." Your chemistry professor began with his heterochromatic eyes, meeting yours with unwavering curiosity. "You seem to be more lost than when I first talked to you. Is there anything you need to tell me?"

"As far as I know, there's none, sensei."

Obanai raised one eyebrow at you and crossed his arms, only to reveal Kaburamaru, who was hiding beneath his oversized lab coat. You blink in confusion at what you are seeing right now. You have heard the students talk about Iguro bringing his pet snake to the university a lot of times. However, you regarded those as purely rumours.

But seeing the white snake right now, you can't help but be amazed. You also had a pet snake in the past, which you and your best friend used to take care of. "Oh, what's its name?"

"Kaburamaru."

"I see. It looks beautiful..."

"Oh? You're not afraid of him?"

"No. I'm not. He reminds me of the snake that I used to see on our garden before."

"Oh..."

"Yes, sensei. Hmmm, when I was just 5, I used to see a white snake in our garden. I even tried to touch it."

The oozing tension and unwelcoming aura that Obanai used to blanket himself with seemed to fade as his eyes widened with what you said. He looked amused right now, and that kind of calmed you down. 

"I see..."

It looks like he wanted to ask more, but then nothing came. So, you decided to get straight to the point.

"Iguro-sensei, I've got to go. I'm so sorry if I always disappoint you in class. I really do."

You said you felt guilty for letting your emotions always take hold of you. But before you could go, Iguro handed you something.

"A notebook?"

"Yeah. Try to study with those notes. Perhaps it could help."

You took the white notebook from his hand and gave him a small smile. "Thank you, sensei."

You swear that before Obanai turned around, you saw his cheek turn pink. That left you dazed, but then, it's none of your business.

Despite the amusement that you have felt for knowing Obanai has a soft spot, you can't help but not believe yourself for what happened. Why did he give you this notebook? Why is he observing you in the first place?

It kind of made you shiver, as you felt like one wrong move and bad things would happen with Obanai. Interpreting that moment as a sign of his concern for you, you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps...

After showering, you sat on your study table and looked at the innocuous photo in front of you. It was your best friend and non-blood-related older sister, Shinobu Kocho, who had passed away. How you've missed her and the time when she's just there for you. You loved the girl so much that you wanted to be like her.

You never would have thought that one day you'd end up hating something you love for taking someone away from you.

"Shinobu-san, I'm sorry for being a failure. I... I'll try my best to bring back my passion."

You whispered in the air, realising that, yes, if the woman is still here, she wouldn't want you to fail.

With that sudden flame igniting inside you, you opened the notebook Obanai had given you. Goosebumps formed on your body as you traced his handwriting. He has good handwriting, and you can't help but smile because of it.

It reminded you of Shinobu's wonderful handwriting, which you have always adored but also sort of didn't, as Obanai wrote in cursive.

And with that, as if by magic, time passed. You didn't realise that it was actually two in the morning when you finally stopped reviewing. Yes. It has been the first time again that you have let yourself get too absorbed in anything related to science for more than an hour.

It kind of felt overwhelming. Yes, it is overwhelming, as suddenly everything started to make sense again. All the things that you studied before came back. And perhaps it is due to the simplicity with which Obanai explained things in that notebook.

It seemed as though he had specifically designed it for that purpose. To make chemistry simple, which is too different from how he explains things in class.

For some reason, you felt a bit happy. Even if Obanai may appear nonchalant and harsh, he seems to really care. This simple gesture unlocked so many memories.

And even your promise to Shinobu before came back to you, pushing you harder to do better this time.

This is all because Obanai has made an effort to kind of talk to you at the uni this afternoon. And yes, he is cold but that gesture had gave warmth to your frozen heart.

A few days had passed, and one Saturday night, you found yourself sitting in a public library, reading the notes from Obanai's notebook. After the night of your realisation, you felt your passion for science spark again. And yes, it reflected on your grades.

However, Iguro still didn't speak to you after that day. No praise, not even a bat of an eye. You're just there again, invisible, despite doing your best.

Feeling a bit low, you decided to ditch the library and head towards the nearest coffee shop. All you wanted now was to chill and perhaps let your mind rest for a while.

But before you could reach the coffee shop, you accidentally bumped into someone. Without wasting time, you bowed down to apologise, and there, a familiar voice came into your senses.

Your eyes widened, and then, when you looked up, you met those familiar and enigmatic eyes. "S-sensei?" you asked, wondering why in the world would fate bring him to you tonight.

You were trying your best to forget him and his nonchalant attitude towards you, which is really weird after he gave you that notebook. Yes, you were expecting him to be a bit nicer, but he became colder.

"What are you doing here?"

He's still wearing his mask. I wish I could just see his face. You thought as you proceeded to take in his presence. Clad in a striped hoodie and black pants, Obanai could pass off as a university student. He looks young for a professor in the first place.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

"Oh sensei. Sorry, I was—"

"Spacing out. I know. It's okay. I know it's surprising to see your professor around here."

You were astounded when he talked casually to you. He never did that at school. Oh well, that's because he's apparently your professor. You wanted to slap yourself for your foolish thoughts.

"What's up with you?" Obanai added, which made you blink in surprise. He wants to know what's up with me.

"Nothing much sensei... Just—"

"I'm going to cut you there." He said, and suddenly leaned in on you, which made you blush. His voice went out as a whisper as he told you,

"We're outside the university. It's Obanai, okay? I don't want the people around getting the wrong idea."

"Sorry sen— Obanai-san..."

He straightened up and crossed his arms, piercing you with his fierce eyes once again. "So you were saying?"

"Oh, I was just reviewing. Just heading to the coffee shop now to grab a coffee. How about you?" You said, trying to hide your nervousness from your casual tone. Obanai scratched his chin and shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing much. Just another Saturday night in the pub, I guess."

WHAT? HE DRINKS? You couldn't hide the flabbergasted expression on your face as you heard those words coming from his mouth. You never thought of Iguro as some guy you'd see in pubs. So this information is shocking to you.

Obanai saw this expression and raised an eyebrow. "Is it weird to hear a grown ass man going to a pub? Why are you looking at me like that? Prick..."

"Sorry... I'm just... weird sometimes. Don't mind me."

"Okay. So, you heading towards the coffee shop? Want me to come with you? It's quite dangerous to walk alone in these streets at night."

This night is definitely getting weirder... in a nice way?

Obanai, asking to walk with you? The stern and cold-hearted chemistry professor, caring for you? You bit your lip and felt a bit flustered.

Yes, he's your professor, but he's also a guy. And it's the first time that a guy has ever offered you this. You know that it isn't too much. It's most likely lower than the bare minimum, but then a part of you started to flutter. You know it's wrong, and it's weird... but... For some reason, you just didn't care.

"Are you sure I'm not going to be a bother with you and your pub appointment?"

"No. I'm kind of thinking to drop the pub thing tonight, actually. Can I join your coffee appointment instead?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just want to? Is that an enough reason?"

"Yes, actually."

You found yourself sitting face-to-face with Obanai in your favourite coffee shop, wondering why he was here in the first place if he wouldn't order at all. Feeling a bit conscious, you fixed your braids and decided to take a sip of your coffee.

"Why didn't you order anything? If you want to go to the pub, it's okay."

"I just... don't eat much. And I hate coffee."

"Then why did you go with me here, sensei?"

"Obanai."

"There's no one around. And you're my sensei; we can't hide that fact."

"You're pissing me off."

"I'm not trying too, though. It's just..."

"Why did you stop? It's just what?"

Obanai's voice suddenly sounded a bit offended and sad. You gulped and looked down, stopping yourself from saying that this looks weird because somehow you wanted the company.

"Nothing"

"You can tell me directly if you don't want the company. I just came here to... to make sure you'll be alright. But I guess trying to be nice doesn't always pay off?"

You felt guilty as you watched Obanai stand up from his seat. So then, letting your intrusive thoughts win, you grabbed his hand and pulled him down. "Stay." You didn't care if his allergy to women would be triggered by this contact. All you wanted to do now was kind of comfort him.

Obanai looked at your hand and back to you with question marks almost becoming visible on his face. "Y/N..."

"Sorry..."

"It's okay. I'm used to it."

"I want the company. So stay, Obanai."

The facade of emptiness in Obanai's eyes was shattered after hearing your words. It seems like a memory has suddenly been unlocked inside of him. But then, no words came out of his lips. So you spoke up once again, trying to lighten up the mood.

"So... where are you going after this?" You asked innocently, which made the guy shrug his shoulders again. Obanai isn't speaking again.

You realised that he was looking at your hand, which was still holding him, so you pulled away and tried your best to hide your blush.

After you had let go of his hand, Obanai finally got the strength to speak up. "Walk you home."

"You're not pissed off with me anymore?"

"No."

"Okay."

"Okay."

And there... Again, you found yourself ending the night with Obanai walking you home in silence. Yes, it was awkward, but for some reason, it felt a bit warm. And you kind of felt happy.

Yes, he's your professor, but for this night, he made you feel like a normal girl. And yes, it is special, as you haven't felt that in a long while.

Actually... you have been feeling this for a while. Wanting his attention and care so bad and you didn't know when it started. It just sparked again after he lent you the notebook.

But you know you shouldn't feel this so, you forced yourself to stop. And you'll do it again this time.

On the other hand, Obanai found himself slithering back to the pub, letting his loneliness get a hold of him. Yes. He's lonely. And yes, he regretted what he just did. Just because you reminded him of something so important before doesn't mean that he should be as vulnerable as at that time.

You're his student. And yes, he reminded himself of that. You're just his student now. And it should stay that way.

Days have passed, and here we go again. As if that night never happened, Iguro didn't talk to you that way again. It kind of hurts because even if you wanted to hide your feelings so bad, you still wanted him to look at you and speak to you, the same way as that night.

But you have no choice. Even if you had the urge to bring up how confused you are, you didn't. You can't speak to him that way again. Like what you said that night, he is your professor and you cannot hide that fact.

So, you just did your best in his class, trying your best to focus on your promise with Shinobu, trying to fix all your mess.

Little did you know, but the chemistry professor has noticed how you've changed since the day he lent you those notes. You've turned the tables, as if suddenly you were his star student.

He had grown fond of seeing you answer his questions correctly. Especially when you started leading chemistry projects and stuff.

And beneath those observations, Obanai can't help but also adore how beautiful your confidence looks on you. Yes, he was dying to talk to you. But he can't bring himself to do so. He just can't say it but there's tonnes of things that he had been wanting to tell you.

"Iguro-sensei. Thank you for this notebook. I've finished studying them all, and it helped me a lot. I will return it to you now. Sorry if it took me too long to do so."

Obanai was astounded by your voice and presence. He looked up at you with an empty stare and simply nodded. After putting the notebook on the desk, you were about to go when, suddenly, Iguro spoke up in a soft tone.

"No worries. You actually started to do well."

With his words, your face lightened. Feeling your heartbeat race, you fought the urge to smile as you knew that things would not end with him praising you. You still need to pass the class. You need to make Shinobu proud, even if she's gone.

But then, cutting off those thoughts, Obanai stood up from his seat and walked in front of you. You were astounded by the sudden closeness, but of course, you didn't move.

The chemistry professor's heterochromatic eyes pierced within your soul, forcing you to look away. Heat crept up on your face, and you felt that the atmosphere had become a bit more intense.

A sudden, foolish thought had managed to escape from the cages of your mind.

Is Iguro-sensei going to kiss me?

Yes. Rising again from deep within your frustrations on his subject and the pain that it causes you is this feeling. And it is slowly burning you into ashes.

That's why it hurts more when he tells you you're not good enough. That's why you didn't get angry at him when he did so. That's why you hated those people who spoke badly of him.

That's why you wanted his attention again like that night when he made you feel like a normal girl.

Yes, Iguro can be so difficult, but he somehow brings this comfort to you. You have no idea why, but it's like you've known him forever, and you've been longing for his presence.

He feels familiar, but he also does not.

Obanai's hand felt warm on your cheek. The chemistry professor suddenly found the courage to caress your cheek, which made you blush. But then, his next words killed those flusters in just a blink of an eye, rubbing salt on your scars.

"You did well, Y/N-san. Keep it up, okay? You'll make Shinobu proud."

Those words. That name.

You almost found yourself shutting down. Now, all you can think of is: How did he know her? And if he has known her for a long time, why is he just telling you this now?

Turning to look at him with wide eyes, you've witnessed how Obanai took off his face mask. Yes, this is the first time you've seen him without that.

And yes, for the very first time, he looked so familiar that seeing his face now brought back your old memories from the foster home to haunt you.

Flashback:

"Shinobu-san, who's that boy with Mitsuri-san? Is he new here?" 

"Oh, I don't know his name but yes, he's new. Don't approach him, though. He seems to be afraid of girls. I don't know why, though."

"Afraid? That's weird. He seems to be okay with Mitsuri."

"I know, right. Enough questions. Let's just study inside. Ne-chan told me that you'll be a Kocho soon! So you'll need to learn lots about science!"

"Hey. That snake will bite if you hold it that way."

"Oh! Sorry— Um, you're Mitsuri-san's friend, right? You're not afraid of me?"

"Oh..."

"Oh..."

"Anyway, don't hold it like that. Aren't you afraid of it?"

"No..."

"Hey! Why are you playing with a snake?!"

"Oi Shinobu-san! Mitsuri's friend was—Oh, where is he?"

"Huh? That boy? He's not supposed to be here... Perhaps he ran away. I heard he had been adopted. But you know what? Let's just go inside. Leave that snake alone."

"Shinobu-san! I know that guy..."

"Yep. He's that kid from before. He's all grown up too. I guess, we'll be co-workers now? He'll be volunteering here as well to teach science with me. Anyways, Mitsuri's also here, she'll be teaching art. You should meet with her soon!"

End of Flashback

"Iguro-san? Y-you look... familiar..."

"Yes. You've met me and Kaburamaru before."

"You are kidding right? You can't be that boy from the foster home. Mitsuri-san's friend? My sister's co-worker? You died... You're already dead... Like them..."

It seems like your words have stunned Iguro. Regret started to paint on his face as he looked away from your wondering expression.

But here you are now. Answers. You need answers. If he had known you all this time, he must have known the trauma that you experienced when you saw the foster home getting burned with Shinobu, Mitsuri, and that unknown lad, who is apparently him, as they tried to save the children that they had been teaching science four years ago.

Why is he here now?

You shove Obanai away and glared at him. "This must have been a sick joke, sensei. You can't be that boy with my sister... No one has escaped that fire that night."

"I did, and I'm sorry I wasn't able to save your sister and Mitsuri."

"It's all too much for me now. Can I go?"

Tears suddenly escaped your wide eyes, and there, Obanai felt his chest tighten. He had expected you to react this way, but no matter how he practiced it, he could never prepare himself for the real thing.

Just like how he wasn't prepared to see his first love get burned to ashes before.

"Y/N, I'm sorry." Obanai tried to touch you, but then you swatted his hand away and gave him a glare.

Your passion turned to anger as you felt betrayed. All you can think of is why. He should have been honest. What other things is he hiding from you, then?

"Y/N, I never knew at first that you were Shinobu's sister. I heard she has siblings, but I didn't even know who they were. I and your sister barely had any encounters before except when we were teaching the kids at the foster home. How could I know?"

You didn't speak. You wanted to hear more.

"I mean, it just dawned on me when you told me about your memory back when you were 5. That's the only time I managed to fit in the pieces."

"What do you mean?"

"You're that little girl I saw when I was 12. The girl whom Kaburamaru almost bit. You had Shinobu's surname, so you got adopted by them. So that's also why you were gone when I came back to visit. Y/N... You were here with me all the time. It was all late when I realised it."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

Obanai's eyebrows creased in frustration. "What should I say then? 'Hi, I'm Obanai, the boy from the foster home who also didn't manage to save your sister from the fire. How are you?'"

Sarcasm was obvious in his tone, which offended you a bit, so you decided to just leave. Perhaps this conversation shouldn't be happening right now. You want to move on. You're moving on, for goodness sake!

And now you're back to square one again.

𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓠𝔀𝓠

But I swear, it'll be sweeter soon!

And yes, this will be in two-chapters as it is too long and too heavy than I anticipated XD

So see you soon on the next chapter!

Feel free to reblog, comment, and send a request! Will appreciate that my loves~

Wuvyouuuu! Just be on the lookout to our next series and of course, the ending of 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮!

MDNI!

Ja ne~

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫>

[lampochkaart]

Kokichi is asexual and you can't change my mind (and Kaito is an ace too 'cause i said so)

Here is why i think that way

Disclaimer! This post is not created to judge or shame anyone. I created it to explain why i think about them in that way and maybe try to make this headcanon to be more popular. I might sound kinda salty at times here but in general I don't mean to hurt anybody.

It kinda confuses me why so often Kokichi portrayed a little bit too intrested in making sexual comments and jokes. I probably shouldn't be surprised, because I know that we live in a sex obsessed world. I'm kinda used to it at this point. But I think people kinda exaggerate it.

In actual game he doesn't make sexual comments and jokes THAT often and 90% of the time they are directed at Miu who is the MAIN sourse of them in game. I even think that he would not say so many of those things if Miu wouldn't be starting it first.

He even get's confused for a second when Gonta tells him he couldn't catch Miu for Insect Meet and Greet because his "face got hot".

And in bonus mode Dangan Salmon Team he isn't particularly intrested in that either. In most cases when the player chooses sexual option even though the game states that it was a good option Kokichi will often just change the coversation to a different topic. Yeah, they had fun, but they didn't really talk that much about initial chosen option.

"Let's read a dirty book."

"How about joining my organization instead?" *starts rambling about his organization*

And yes, I REFUSE to call this protag Shuichi. This is NOT my favorite protagonist. He would not fucking say this.

Look how they massacred my boy *cries*

One thing Kokichi also does very often is being sarcastic. I really like this scene. But surprisingly I've seen people taking his excitement as genuine and was like ??? How? Have you gone so crazy after you've seen his first phrase that you blacked out and missed part when he went "nope :)". He literally was like "Is that what you wanted me to say? You wish😊🖕"

I also like how sometimes when the protagonist say something sexual Ouma redirects topic from himself. And he often suggests Tenko as alternative. For a long time I couldn't understand why it was her specifically. And then I realised. It's because Tenko will beat up any man who says something like that to her. He literally indirectly tells player to fuck off.

I can't belive how often those moments are overlooked.

I think that's all my main points regarding Kokichi. Everything else is not very convincing and can be dismissed. But I just want to point out that his color palette basically resembles asexual flag, because I think that's a neat detail.

Now Kaito. I'm gonna be honest. The main reason I headcanon him as ace is because I headcanon all my favorite characters as asexual. But there is a reason I fully accepted him as ace.

The scene in Talent Development Plan where he's discussing "man's passion" with Leon and Teruteru. While they were talking about girls it turned out Kaito this whole time was talking about chasing passion in more philosophical sense. And by exploring "unknown worlds" he probably meant space (they really should've seen that coming).

That's pretty much it. I just saw 1 (one) reason to make it canon for me and immediatly jumped on it.

I think that's it for both of them. They're not the only characters i headcanon to be on the ace spectrum (and i also have some on the aro spectrum too!) but they're the ones I think about the most, so I thought I'd explain it.

[weemssapphic]

You Make Me Feel

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Summary: At 49 years old, Larissa Weems is the principal of Nevermore Academy - a successful career woman whose dominating energy demands respect from everyone she comes into contact with. She is also a virgin. What happens when she finally meets someone who wants to have sex (and so much more) with her?

Words: ~6.6 | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: virgin!Larissa, internalized homophobia, hurt/comfort, nsfw (sickeningly sweet smut) - cunnilingus, vaginal fingering

A/N: after reading Hot Chocolate on ao3, I couldn't get the idea of virgin Larissa out of my brain so... here we are lmao

Larissa didn’t really know how it happened - the years had simply passed her by in a blur. She was a studious teenager, scoffing at her horny, unfocused peers. It’s not that she never had the opportunity, per se - there were boys who asked her out, who tried to ‘seduce’ her in that awkward, teenage boy way. They all disgusted her - she would wait until college, she reasoned, where she could find someone more mature.

So she left Nevermore behind for her studies. Here, the men - if they could be called such - were just as crude, just as unappealing. The thought of being touched by any one of them filled her with disgust. 

It wasn’t until her senior year of college, when she found herself smitten with one of her female professors, that she entertained the thought of being anything other than straight. It was a thought that had only crossed her mind once before, when she’d accidentally caught her roommate at Nevermore, Morticia Frump, getting undressed. She’d felt oddly… aroused at seeing the girl’s bare skin - and immediately pushed down those feelings. Larissa Weems was enough of a freak as it was - she didn’t need the label ‘lesbian’ stamped on her as well.

But at the age of 22, Larissa had to admit that it was strange she’d never wanted a boy to touch her. She’d gotten close once, during a heavy drunken make-out session with some boy at a freshman party - before freaking out completely and leaving the poor boy squirming uncomfortably at the edge of the lake. And so, at the age of 22, Larissa finally had to confront her very un-platonic feelings for women.

By the age of 49, she’d gone through all the stages of grief regarding her sexuality: she’d vehemently denied entertaining the very thought of being anything other than straight. She’d been angry, oh so angry - at herself, at the world, at Morticia, at the boy she’d kissed. She’d gone through all the what-ifs: what if she’d made a move on Morticia, what if she hadn’t been so uptight, what if her family had been more accepting. She’d even fallen into a bout of depression, realizing how sad and pitiful she was for being a lonely virgin who hated herself for something she couldn’t change.

She’d finally settled on acceptance. Larissa had accepted that she was a lesbian. But, through all those years, she’d been too busy hating herself and throwing herself into her work to entertain thoughts of actually dating. So now she was 49. And a virgin. And who would want to be with a 49 year old virgin?

Sometimes, Larissa could ignore those thoughts, push them down. Sex and dating aren’t everything, she’d reason. She didn’t need anyone else. She had a successful career that kept her busy enough, after all - it was her dream as a teenager, wasn’t it? 

Some days, though - days like today - it was harder to drown out the lonely, self-pitying thoughts. Days where she had a one-on-one meeting with you, for example. 

As one of the teachers at Nevermore, Larissa found you particularly alluring - everything about you seemed to draw her in, leave her wanting more. You carried yourself with such confidence, you challenged Larissa in ways that both delighted and aroused her. You were kind and chatty, interested in what Larissa had to say - she felt she could talk to you for hours.

And you looked so delicious. In her weakest moments, Larissa imagined how it would feel to have a woman’s hands on her body - and more often than not, it was your hands she pictured, your face that surfaced in her mind as she pleasured herself. She yearned to feel your lips on her own, your body pressed against hers. How delightful it would feel to finally, finally be touched, to finally feel desired.

Today was no different - when you knocked on her office door for the start of your quarterly review, Larissa had to take a moment to compose herself before calling out “come in.” Her breath hitched in her chest as you strode up to her desk, grinning widely and taking a seat across from her.

The review of your performance took no time at all - you were honestly one of her best teachers, well-liked by the staff and the students (even Wednesday Addams had yet to cause an issue in your class). With twenty minutes left of your scheduled meeting time, the two of you began to chat about various, non-school-related subjects. Larissa found herself relaxing more and more, and before she realized what she was doing, she found herself asking if you’d like to join her in her quarters at the end of the day for a glass of wine and a chat.

“Of course, Larissa.” You beamed, sounding eager - was it Larissa’s imagination, or had a faint blush crept up your cheeks?

After agreeing to come by at 7, you took your leave to prepare for your afternoon classes - Larissa walked you to the door, which she leant against as soon as it shut behind you. Oh God, what had possessed her? An entire evening in your presence would be torture for her… 

The worst part, somehow, was the fact that she knew you liked women - you’d brought up an ex-girlfriend once, Larissa had been taking a sip of coffee at the time and had nearly begun to choke. It was entirely plausible that you could… Larissa quickly shook the thought from her head. Even if you returned her affections, surely you’d hightail it out of there the second you found out how little experience Larissa had.

~~~

The afternoon passed quickly and soon Larissa found herself nervously pacing the length of her office, smoothing her sweaty palms over her dress to remove non-existent wrinkles.

Your knock sounded for the second time that day, and Larissa jumped at the sound. With a deep breath, she slipped into the persona she’d begun to adopt when dealing with the Mayor and other important figures - authoritative, even slightly seductive. It was the only way she wouldn’t crack under her nerves.

“Hello, darling,” Larissa husked as she opened the door and stepped aside to allow you to enter.

“Hey!” You’d changed out of your clothes from earlier into a low-cut blouse and a short skirt. A pair of simple black heels added two inches to your height, a fact that Larissa couldn’t help but find incredibly alluring. In your hand you held a bottle of Chianti, which you offered to Larissa. “Didn’t wanna come empty-handed,” you added with a nervous giggle.

“Oh…” Larissa’s heart fluttered at the kind gesture. “You didn’t have to.” She accepted the bottle with a grateful smile, hoping her blush wasn’t too obvious.

“I know, I wanted to.” You grinned at her, finally stepping into the office and closing the door behind you. Larissa reached past you to click the lock - and immediately paled as you smirked at her.

“My, my, Principal Weems, trying to trap me here and get me drunk?” you teased. Larissa’s panic must have been evident on her face because you burst into laughter and placed a reassuring hand on her arm - her skin burned at the contact as if it had been branded.

“I-I just don’t want students bursting into my office after hours, I…” Larissa trailed off lamely, unable to focus when your hand was still on her arm. It was so warm, so soft… she found herself imagining that hand on other parts of her body, trailing along her skin…

“Relax, Larissa, it’s okay,” you said, your face softening. “Either way it’s fine by me.”

Either way? Larissa nodded, swallowing thickly and trying to regain her composure. You’d always been very friendly, borderline flirty even, but something about being alone with Larissa outside of school hours seemed to relax you even further.

Larissa took a deep breath. A bit of teasing she could do - she was no stranger to a healthy bit of flirting to get what she wanted. Granted, her heartbeat was a bit more erratic this time, as she was actually attracted to the person across from her. Regardless - a bit of flirting couldn’t hurt. It didn’t have to be more than that.

“Would you like to take this to my quarters?” Larissa purred, plastering a seductive smile on her face and nodding in the direction of a door at the back of her office.

“I would love that.”

Minutes later, you were settled on the couch in Larissa’s living room and she was pouring two generous glasses of wine. She kicked off her heels and made herself comfortable beside you - you followed suit, taking the liberty to scoot just a bit closer. Larissa noticed, quirking an eyebrow - you laughed in response.

“Sorry, too forward?” You were still smiling as you made to shimmy back a bit - Larissa found herself placing a hand on your thigh, stilling your movements.

“You may stay,” she replied airily, grateful you couldn’t pick up on the way her heart was thundering loudly against her ribcage, seconds away from bursting. You placed your hand atop Larissa’s and she took a sip of her wine to mask the blush that was spreading across her face. Out of the corner of her eye, Larissa could see you mirror her movements, bringing your glass up to your mouth and taking a sip, watching her intently over the rim of the glass.

“Didn’t your parents tell you that it’s rude to stare?” Larissa murmured playfully, watching your cheeks go pink.

“No. They didn’t, actually,” you teased, before turning slightly more serious. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just… you’re really beautiful. Just want you to know that.”

Larissa felt butterflies erupt in her stomach and she turned to face you fully - you looked so cute, staring into your wine glass, cheeks pink… It had been so long since Larissa had been called beautiful - she was so careful not to put herself into situations where rejection could be the possible outcome. “Thank you.” You looked up and Larissa smiled.

“Larissa?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know why you invited me here tonight. I was hoping… Well, I have to confess something, I want to be open with you.”

Larissa could feel her heartbeat in her throat, and she nodded slowly, suddenly becoming aware that her hand was still on your thigh.

“I’m interested in you, Larissa. Now maybe I’m interpreting this all wrong, and if so I’m very sorry - I promise I won’t let it affect our professional relationship. But maybe the feeling is mutual…?”

She could hardly believe her ears. Of course the feeling was mutual. Larissa felt warm and tingly all over, her heart pounding and her head reeling. All she’d ever wanted was suddenly in her grasp  - it was now or never…

Larissa’s eyes flicked down to your lips. Something in her expression must have given her away, for you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers - Larissa was helpless to stop you. It was just as she imagined - better, even. Your lips were soft and warm against hers, gentle - a stark contrast to the boy she’d made out with in college.

You quickly deepened the kiss, licking at Larissa’s lips which she parted almost out of instinct, allowing you to explore her mouth. You tasted of red wine and the lipstick you were wearing - Larissa couldn’t help but let out a soft noise of pleasure as heat pooled in her core. She felt you take her wine glass out of her hand and briefly pull back to set the two glasses on the coffee table - then your lips descended upon hers once more, the kiss quickly gaining intensity.

A wanton groan escaped your throat as you pushed yourself into Larissa - it was a beautiful sound, and Larissa could feel her underwear growing damp. She squeezed her thighs together for some much-needed relief, an action which you immediately noticed. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” you rasped against Larissa’s lips. Her heartbeat stuttered in her chest - this was moving so fast. She wanted to protest but with the way you were looking at her, eyes half-lidded, pupils wide, cheeks flushed - she found she couldn’t summon up the courage to deny you, despite how her stomach began to burn with anxiety.

Instead, she stood and led you to her bedroom, allowing you to guide her backwards onto the mattress. She felt your fingers toy with the zipper of her dress and push it down to pool at her hips - then, suddenly, your lips were everywhere at once. You planted urgent, demanding kisses down her chest, her stomach - your hands caressed the bare skin of her waist. 

These were the touches Larissa had yearned for for so long - your soft fingertips leaving marks on her waist as your warm breath caressed her skin, your lips and tongue and teeth peppering her body with kisses as evidence of your desire. But she wasn’t enjoying them. It was too much, too fast - she was overwhelmed with sensations. The throb between her legs no longer felt pleasant - it felt daunting, dirty even. What would happen when you’d fuck her and notice how skittish she was? What would happen when you’d expect to be pleasured in return and she would, inevitably, fail miserably?

As your lips moved up her body again, Larissa knew she needed to slow this down and confess, before her inexperience became evident and disappointed you. She took a deep breath.

“I don’t have much experience,” Larissa confessed quietly - the words sounded foreign to her ears. She could feel her nerves rising further as she wondered if you would hate her for it, leave immediately and never touch her again - she waited with baited breath to see what you would say.

“A woman like you? I find that hard to believe,” you murmured playfully, your voice low and sultry as you began to trail kisses all along Larissa’s jaw, as your fingers dug into her hips.

You weren’t getting it. Larissa felt, for the umpteenth time in her life, shame well up inside her, warming up her skin and pricking at her eyes. She felt her throat begin to close as panic overtook her body, and she tried to no avail to calm her racing heart with deep breaths as her eyes glazed over with tears.

“Larissa? Larissa?” Everything sounded like she was under water, your voice was so far away. Eventually, she recognized her name and turned to meet your gaze. You were no longer kissing her - you looked down at her in concern, brow furrowed, frowning as your lips sounded out her name.

Larissa took a deep breath to steady herself. She felt foolish for getting so worked up - surely you would think she was some sort of freak. 49 years old and unable to even so much as make out with a woman without having a panic attack.

“Larissa?”

“Yes?” She tried to sound normal, nonchalant, but her voice betrayed her as it gave out, even on that one syllable.

“Where’d you go? What’s going on up there?”

Your fingers caressed her cheek in a soothing gesture and she allowed her eyelids to flutter shut, leaning into the warmth of your touch. She found herself craving it so, so badly, but she couldn’t allow herself to enjoy it - not when it would surely be the last shred of affection she’d ever receive from you. She stared at the ceiling, a hollow feeling settling in her chest.

“We don’t have to do this, we don’t have to do anything. You know that right?” You shifted off of her, lying on your side to face her and propping yourself up on your elbow. When Larissa failed to meet your gaze, she felt your fingers grip her chin, urging her to face you. “We could just watch a movie or something?”

I don’t want to watch a movie. I want to fuck you. I want to be fucked. I want my body to let me have this. 

Larissa nodded numbly.

You sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Larissa moved as if on autopilot, pulling her dress back up and sliding off the bed, guiding you wordlessly back into her small living room. She gestured to the couch and you took a seat. 

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, clearing her throat. 

“Just water, thanks.” You offered her a grateful smile, and Larissa winced - she was going to need something stronger than water to get through the evening now, but she didn’t want you to think she was an alcoholic either, so she nodded and padded to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water.

When she returned you were focused on the television, flicking through Netflix. You paused to take one of the glasses out of her hand, careful not to allow your fingers to brush against hers as you did so - Larissa swallowed nervously and averted her eyes, taking a seat next to you - close enough to feel your body heat, but not touching you.

“I feel like Netflix took all the good movies off,” you whined with a slight pout - if Larissa hadn’t been so in her own head, she might have chuckled, finding you quite endearing. “Is there anything you want to watch?”

Larissa felt herself shrug. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying your interactions leading up to now, internally berating herself for letting on that she wasn’t okay. If she’d only been able to play along better… it was something even teenagers did, for fuck’s sake - it shouldn’t be a big deal. If she could just get it over with, then maybe -

“Are you more of a romcom or action kinda gal? Ooh. Maybe you wanna watch a horror movie or something? What about-”

“I’m a virgin.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

You hadn’t heard her. Larissa once again felt the sting of oncoming tears. “I’m a virgin,” she repeated, a bit louder, unable to stop her voice from rising in pitch, eyes trained on the floor in front of her.

The silence that enveloped the two of you was deafening. 

A warm hand was placed on her thigh - she whipped her head around to face you, confusion and insecurity marring her features.

Your own eyes shone with care - Larissa felt her heart pound wildly against her ribcage.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said softly. “I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you earlier - I shouldn’t have moved so fast.” You looked almost ashamed, which confused Larissa further… What were you apologizing for? Clearly she was the one with the issues. She shook her head lightly, a bit dazed.

“No, I’m sorry…” Larissa hesitated, swallowing against the lump in her throat and fighting back tears. “I’ll walk you to the door, we can forget this ever happened.” As she stood, she felt your fingers gently encircle her wrist.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Larissa. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

Larissa scoffed, but she made no move to extricate herself from your grip. Not when your warm fingertips were the only thing that could bring her comfort.

“I’ll leave if you want me to… but I’d rather stay and make sure you’re alright - if that’s okay?”

A part of Larissa was screaming, begging, pleading with her to kick you out so she could do what she always did - drown herself in her own self-pity (and maybe half a bottle of wine) and cry. But when she glanced down at you and saw the worry in your eyes, the adorable little crease between your brows that deepened at whatever you saw in Larissa’s own eyes, she nodded and sat back down.

“Is it… would you rather I not touch you right now?” you asked as you dropped Larissa’s wrist. There was a healthy distance between the two of you on the couch - it couldn’t have been more than a foot or two, but it felt like miles to Larissa, who felt the crushing weight of loneliness descending upon her again as you retracted your fingers.

“You can touch me,” she whispered, ashamed at how desperate she sounded. She felt the couch cushions shift next to her, and soon your warm thigh was pressed against hers - then your hand found her own, intertwining your fingers together. Your skin was so soft, your hand fit so perfectly within Larissa’s that it made her breath hitch in her chest, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of your small, feminine hand clasping her own. She wished her hands weren’t as clammy as they were, but you didn’t seem to mind.

“I hope I didn’t scare you away,” you said timidly. “I really like you and I… I didn’t mean to push you into anything. Fuck, I didn’t know, I’m sorry. I thought…” You trailed off, watching Larissa apprehensively.

“You really like me?” Larissa’s ears had perked up as you’d said it, she figured she must’ve misheard you. You smiled shyly then, and Larissa felt butterflies in her stomach. “Even… even now?”

You let out a low chuckle, giving Larissa’s hand a squeeze. “Even now? Is you being a virgin supposed to change my mind?”

“I’m 49…” Larissa whispered in anguish, her heart constricting in her chest as she realized she was admitting things to you now that she’d never told anyone.

“And? I mean I guess I’m curious why - it can’t be your looks or your personality, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and you’re so easy to talk to… But it doesn’t bother me or anything.”

Larissa sighed, dropping her gaze to your intertwined hands. When she spoke, it was barely audible. “I was never attracted to men, so I didn’t want them to touch me. I didn’t realize I could be attracted to women until college and by the time I’d come to terms with that… let’s just say I’m certain no one would want to deflower someone in their 40s.”

“I would,” you said with a shrug, so nonchalantly that Larissa whipped her head around to face you. You chuckled at her bewildered expression. “Come on, Larissa. I don’t care about that. I like you as a person and I find you attractive. I want to have sex with you, if you also want to have sex with me. I don’t care how many other people you’ve been with - I really don’t care if the answer to that is zero.”

Larissa took a moment to mull over your words. They sounded almost too good to be true - she never thought she’d find someone who would be so calm, so gentle, so unfazed about the whole thing. And, well, that it just so happened to be the woman she had a crush on… she could feel herself nodding at your words.

“But we don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to. Obviously.”

“I want to,” Larissa said firmly, if a little too quickly - it made you smirk, and her cheeks turned scarlet.

“We’ll go at your pace then.” You brought Larissa’s hand up to your lips and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles. The soft brush of your lips made a rush of heat pool in Larissa’s abdomen. “Only what you’re comfortable with. And if you want to stop, we stop. I want you to have fun, Larissa. I want this to be good for you.”

“Thank you,” Larissa whispered. The smile she received in return was blinding, and her heart felt just a smidge lighter. 

“Do you want me to leave for tonight?”

Larissa shook her head no. You snuggled into her side and picked up the abandoned remote again, flicking through a few more options before finally settling on Carol - Larissa felt herself slowly begin to relax as the film started.

A few minutes into the movie, Larissa felt your fingers begin to trace absent-minded patterns on her knee. She shivered at the touch - she could feel herself start to get worked up. She wondered if there was any way to salvage the evening - her attraction to you had only grown through your show of empathy, and maybe now that you knew her secret, her body could feel safe enough to let go.

Larissa turned towards you - your head was resting against her shoulder, it would be so easy to just lean in and-

You turned your head and met her gaze. “Now look who’s staring,” you teased. Larissa’s eyes were glued to your lips as you spoke. You were such a good kisser, you tasted so good. She leaned forward, focused on her goal - your lips curled into a smile as you leaned in as well. Larissa’s eyes fluttered shut the moment your lips met and she let out a breathy moan. You didn’t deepen the kiss - you simply pressed your lips to hers, humming and gently cupping her face in your hands.

Larissa felt emboldened by your gentleness - she parted her lips slightly to lick at yours. You opened your mouth for her, allowing her to explore your mouth before gently flicking your tongue against hers. She felt a mad fluttering in her abdomen at the deepening of the kiss, a little whimper escaping her throat at all of the sensations once again flooding her body.

Pulling back once she’d run out of air, Larissa rested her forehead against yours. Your hot, heavy breaths mingled with her own, her skin tingled with electricity.

“I want to try this again,” she whispered resolutely.

“Really?” You pulled back, your eyes flicking between hers. Your expression was a mixture of concern and excitement, and Larissa nodded.

You stood, extending a hand for Larissa to take and helping her up.

This time you climbed onto the bed first, settling against the pillows and waiting for Larissa. She followed suit, lying down next to you and pressing a hesitant kiss to your lips. She could feel the affection and tenderness with which you kissed her back and quickly relaxed, allowing her hands to rest on your waist and tugging you closer. You wound your arms around her and held her tightly - she felt safe in the minutes that you spent making out, heat slowly building within her.

Larissa froze as your fingers played with the zipper of her dress, her breath quickening. Noticing the change, you removed your hand and sat back on the balls of your feet.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked - there was no judgment detectable in your voice, only sweetness and worry. “Yes, I am, I’m sorry.” Larissa took a deep breath, trying to relax again.

“What if I got undressed first?”

She considered for a moment - yes, perhaps that would make her feel less vulnerable. She nodded and you began to unbutton your blouse.

“May I?” she asked. You smiled and dropped your hands, shimmying a bit closer. She unbuttoned the blouse the rest of the way, pupils dilating as it fell away from your front to reveal your lace-clad breasts. You slid the blouse from your arms and reached behind yourself, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside - your breasts jiggled slightly as you did so, and Larissa felt her mouth go dry.

Shimmying your hips, you slid your skirt down your legs and tossed it aside, before doing the same with your underwear. There you sat, completely naked, thighs parted slightly to reveal the wetness that glistened between your legs. Larissa’s own pussy throbbed with desire at the sight - she felt an overwhelming sense of euphoria at the fact that you were so aroused, in spite of everything that had transpired that evening.

“All for you,” you purred seductively, smirking as you noticed Larissa’s eyes glued to your cunt. Larissa snapped her gaze up to meet yours and you leaned forward again, pressing a soft kiss to her lips as your fingers once again found her zipper and began to drag it down. She moved her body accordingly so you could slide the dress down her body - nodding as you cocked your head in question when the dress pooled at her hips. You slipped her out of the dress completely, then crawled up her body and settled next to her, toying with the clasp of her bra. 

“You can take it off,” she whispered, almost amused at how fast you complied. 

The hunger with which your eyes roved over her torso, drinking in the milky expanse of her soft stomach, the swell of her breasts, her pink nipples that slowly hardened at the chill in the air - it felt like a drug to Larissa. She’d never had anyone look at her like that - no one had ever seen her naked in such a context, and she felt her chest flush.

Part of her wanted to cross her arms over her chest, her anxiety rising at the unabashed attention - but then you lowered your mouth to her right nipple and gently soothed your tongue over the bud, and her brain short-circuited.

Arching her back off the bed, Larissa let out a strangled, breathy sound - your tongue on her nipple felt like velvet, divine and soothing, and it sent tingles down her spine. Then she felt you roll her other nipple between your fingers and groaned - it was a filthy sound, and her hand shot up immediately to cover her mouth.

Your tongue stilled and you looked up at her with a smile. “No, I want to hear you. That was a very pretty sound you made.” Larissa blushed, removing her hand from her mouth. Your tongue resumed its ministrations, slowly causing the small, pink bud to harden, and Larissa whimpered at the shocks of pleasure that originated behind her navel and rippled outwards in waves.

“Does it feel good when I do that?” you murmured, moving your mouth from one breast to the other, and Larissa nodded fervently.

“Please, keep going,” she breathed, a tightness coiling in her abdomen as your hand joined your tongue to knead at the soft flesh of her breast.

Once you’d showered each of her breasts in ample attention, your lips began trailing down her stomach - much gentler this time, much slower. Larissa almost felt embarrassed at how her body was reacting, how excited she seemed to be getting, as your lips left a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Can I take these off?” You toyed with the waistband of Larissa’s underwear - she paused for a moment, before finally nodding again.

Your fingers brushed against her skin as you tugged her underwear down her legs, then settled between them. With you suddenly this close to her pussy, Larissa began to worry whether she should have shaved. She felt her nerves rising again as she waited for you to tell her how disgusting you found her - then she felt your lips begin to press reverent kisses to the little curls, as if you could sense her anxiety and were trying to reassure her that it was okay.

“Is it okay if I use my mouth?” you asked sweetly. Her eyes widened and her face suddenly felt hot - you were being so considerate, asking all these questions, making sure she was okay with everything, and Larissa wished you didn’t have to do that - she wished she could just be okay with whatever you wanted to do to her.

“I’m sorry, this must be terribly tedious,” she mumbled, her voice dripping with insecurity that, in any other context, she simply did not possess - she hated herself for it right now, and she was unable to meet your gaze because of it. A light slap to her thigh shocked her into looking at you, however. You frowned up at her from between her legs. “Hey. Don’t say that. Making love to you isn’t a chore, Larissa. I want this. So bad. And I want you to enjoy yourself as much as I am. Understood?”

“Yes,” she replied, breathless at your display of dominance.

“Good girl.” Larissa let out an involuntary moan - she had never considered that she would enjoy being called a ‘good girl’, but she couldn’t help the way her cunt throbbed at your words. “So. Is it okay if I use my mouth? Or do you want to stop?”

“N-no, I don’t want to stop… you can use your mouth.” 

You beamed up at her, before carefully hooking one of her legs over your shoulder - Larissa could feel herself being spread open at the action.

Soft lips began littering her inner thighs with gentle kisses. Larissa tried her best to stay still, not to squirm - but when your mouth finally met her cunt, your tongue slowly trailing up her slit, she couldn’t help but buck her hips into your face.

A soft groan left her lips when she felt your tongue flick against her clit - she was so sensitive, and the touch was so different than when she pleasured herself - it made every hair on her body stand on end. Your lips closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking gently and drawing little whimpers from Larissa’s throat as her back arched. She felt herself quickly getting lost in the sensation.

“Does this feel good?” you murmured, pulling back for a moment.

“Y-yes,” Larissa panted - her breathing was already beginning to get heavier.

“If anything doesn’t feel good, if you don’t like it, tell me, okay?”

Larissa hummed and you began licking at her folds, gathering her juices on your tongue and letting out a loud moan of delight. “Fuck, you taste amazing.” Larissa couldn’t help but blush again, but her embarrassment was forgotten the second your tongue circled her clit. She shut her eyes and tried to focus on relaxing.

She found herself unsure what to do with her hands - she briefly brought them to your head, then fisted at the sheets next to her. Then she felt something brush against them and opened her eyes to see your own hands blindly reaching out and grabbing for hers. She intertwined your fingers, her heart leaping in her chest as you gave her hands a squeeze.

The coil in Larissa’s stomach was tightening by the second. She felt herself growing more comfortable with every passing minute, allowing unfiltered moans to pass her lips, spurred on by the noises you were making - the breathy groans, the wet sound of your tongue lapping at her folds. When you gently circled her entrance, she couldn’t help but whine and buck her hips.

“C-can you go inside?” she asked quietly, rolling her hips against your face. You groaned in response, slowly pushing your tongue into her hole. Larissa’s walls fluttered against your tongue and she let out a guttural moan. 

“Good girl,” you purred between thrusts of your tongue. “You’re doing so well for me, love.”

Larissa could feel herself getting closer, her thighs trembling - she tried to keep her legs open but the next thrust of your tongue caused her to snap them shut around your head.

Slowly she began to unravel, her release cresting like a wave as you alternated between teasing her hole and sucking her clit. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she lost herself completely in the feeling of ecstasy overwhelming her body.

She felt your tongue soothe over her folds, then her thighs, lapping up the evidence of her orgasm. You gave her hands a gentle squeeze, before gently extracting your fingers from her grip and crawling up her body. Larissa’s eyes were still closed when she felt your lips on her own. At your tongue’s insistence she parted her lips, whining at the taste of herself as you licked into her mouth.

When you pulled back and cupped her cheek, Larissa opened her eyes. She was almost shocked at the sheer amount of affection and adoration that swirled in your pupils as you searched her face - it made her heart flutter in her chest.

“How was it?”

Larissa hesitated - what was she supposed to say to that? It was everything I’ve ever wanted and more, because it was with you… She buried her face in the crook of your neck and sighed, inhaling the scent of sweat and your sweet perfume on your skin.

“Really good, darling,” is what she settled for as she contentedly nuzzled her nose into your pulse point. She felt your arms wind around her and allowed herself to be held as her breathing slowed. A chaste kiss was pressed to the crown of her head and she smiled against your skin. 

You shifted next to her, wrapping your legs around hers, and Larissa could feel your slick rub against her thigh. Tentatively, Larissa allowed her hand to trail down your bare waist, over the swell of your hip. She could feel you shiver against her as her fingertips brushed against your mound.

Larissa reached between your thighs and pulled back to get a look at your face - you watched her intently, pupils blown, lips parted to let out shaky breaths. Slowly, Larissa spread your folds with her fingers, gasping as she felt how wet you were. She gathered some of your juices on her fingertips and massaged them over your swollen clit, enraptured by the soft moan you let out, the way your eyes fluttered shut and your hips twitched seemingly of their own accord.

With your eyes closed, Larissa allowed herself to admire your beauty, the way you gave in to her touches. She touched you the way she normally touched herself, and it seemed to please you - your face was gorgeously flushed, the most obscene noises slipping from between your swollen lips. When you arched your back, Larissa’s eyes fell to your nipples, hardened with arousal. She lowered her mouth to your breast, flattening her tongue and soothing it over the pink bud, drawing a moan from your chest.

“Bite,” you murmured. Larissa paused, glancing up at your face - then felt your hands on the back of her head, pushing her into your chest. She licked your nipple once more, before grazing her teeth against it and gently biting. 

“Fuck, just like that,” you mewled, and Larissa bit down again, the heat within her own body building at the string of obscenities dripping from your lips.

You rolled your hips against her hand as she continued to stroke your clit. She felt your fingers encircle her wrist, guiding her to your dripping hole. “Two fingers,” you instructed breathily.

Larissa complied, first pushing in one, then two fingers, inadvertently biting down on your nipple again as she felt your walls draw her fingers in. She curled her fingers, experimenting with the pace of her thrusts until she heard your breathing stutter.

“Shit, you’re so good at this,” you praised, your thighs beginning to shake and the rolling of your hips becoming more and more erratic. Your face contorted with pleasure as you rode Larissa’s fingers - she felt your cum drip down her hand as you tensed around her, then you sighed and relaxed into the mattress.

Larissa sat up, pulling her fingers out of your cunt - the needy mewl that left your lips caused a shiver to run down her spine. Your eyes met hers, full of affection and desire, and she felt emboldened - she brought her fingers up to her mouth and licked them clean, moaning at the taste. It was intoxicating - she knew she could get addicted to that taste.

“C’mere,” you murmured, holding your arms open for Larissa. She settled into them, slinging an arm around your bare waist and tugging you closer. You pressed a kiss to her lips. “That-” kiss “felt-” kiss “incredible” kiss. 

Larissa felt herself blushing at your compliment - she couldn’t have asked for a better experience for her first time. It might have come some twenty years later than she’d hoped for, but if it meant she could be here with you right now, your fingertips tracing soothing patterns on her back, your breath tickling her cheek - she’d wait those twenty years all over again.

“I’m glad it was you, you know,” she whispered.

“I’m glad, too,” you whispered back, a gentle smile tugging at your lips.

x

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[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 18

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mention of injuries; sexual themes; illness

A/N: I know I say this almost every time but this chapter is very lackluster and not my best. I had some major writers block and I struggled to get this done to the point where I was ready to give up altogether. I knew where I wanted to go, but words just weren’t happening. Hopefully, now that I’m past this part, it will be easier. Thank you for reading. I’m so sorry for the subpar work. 😢

You were actually a good patient, following Hershel’s recommendations by staying in bed, drinking more water, and not skipping or sharing meals. Daryl, to your surprise, returned to the room just a while later with a plastic bowl of some tasteless stew Carol had made. You didn’t complain, the woman always did the best she could. They had run out of any seasonings or herbs and with the cold weather, it was unlikely you’d find anything growing. 

“Ya need anything?” Daryl asked. You regarded him as he stood at the foot of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding looking at you. 

“No, I’m okay.” You took another bite, eyes following him. He retrieved his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, heading for the door. “Where’re you going?”

“Gonna try an’ hunt. S’cold as fuck out there but maybe I can manage some rabbit.” He shrugged halfheartedly. You hummed and stirred your stew until you heard the sound of the doorknob turning. 

“Daryl?” You blurted out. 

“Yeah?” He still wasn’t looking at you. You could feel the difference in the atmosphere. It wasn’t hostile, just uncomfortable. 

“Please don’t disappear.” You meant it in more ways than one, though you weren’t sure if he would pick up on the entirety of the request. Please don’t leave us. Please don’t hide away. Please just come back. 

“I won’t.” And then he was gone. He left the door slightly ajar, in case you needed something. 

Daryl didn’t lie aside from his constant use of ‘I’m fine’ when he was always so clearly not. So, you knew he’d be back. He wasn’t just going hunting. He was going to clear his head. You knew that because it’s what you would do, were you able to seek refuge in the woods safely. You missed hunting, the safety and comfort of the trees surrounding you. The stillness and quiet sounds that provided much needed calm in times of overwhelming chaos. You wanted to believe that you would feel it again, but you would have a newborn in a few weeks. A little person that would rely on your constant presence. Maybe those days were over for you. 

Daryl wanted more. He had made that clear. He wasn’t going to run away from the newness of what you had both expressed you were seeking. He needed time. It was fresh and formidable. You weren’t sure of his past experiences with relationships or perhaps even lack thereof, but it was clearly overwhelming for him. 

Especially since you had proclaimed to love him. 

That had shaken him. You could have kicked yourself for burdening him with that information. It wasn’t the right time. He had only just accepted that you meant more to him than you could have ever hoped and you just had to go and complicate it. You could only hope that it wasn’t so much that he’d change his mind. 

Rick had taken Glenn and Maggie to rummage through some nearby homes and a small town, returning with a bottle of meds for you that was about a third full. They had managed several cans of vegetables, two bags of rice, and a box of angel hair pasta. It wasn’t much but it would keep the group from starvation. 

You managed most of the stew, getting out of bed to join everyone else downstairs. Hershel had been apprehensive until you immediately stretched out on the couch and wrapped up in a blanket to continue resting without being trapped in isolation. The silence upstairs had been too much, the voices of fear and doubt in your head speaking too loudly. 

“How are you feeling, young lady?” The old man asked. He checked your stitches, used a stethoscope to listen to the baby’s heartbeat, and felt around on your belly, chuckling when he was continuously kicked at each disturbance. “Someone’s lively this evening.”

“Yeah, they’re tap dancing on my bladder but I don’t—” you trailed off and looked out the window. You had needed to pee since coming downstairs but didn’t feel safe going without Daryl anymore. It almost made you nauseous how dependent you’d become. Always the damsel in distress, the wimpy princess who couldn’t do anything for herself. 

“Things change when you find yourself in your condition.” You slowly brought your attention back to Hershel. The veterinarian was wise, had proven to be so back at the farm. Not always reasonable—as a barn full of walkers had shown—but wise, nonetheless. “You’re accustomed to living a certain way, taking care of yourself. And then there’s suddenly this little person depending on you to keep them safe. It’s not always easy to make that transition.” He gently rolled down your shirt and pulled the blanket up over you. “I could sense from the day I met you that you were a free spirit. You didn’t always want to listen. I’ve watched you shift from a woman who took care of herself by any means necessary to a woman who would do anything to protect her child. There’s no shame in that and the rewards will be sweeter than anything you’ve ever known before.” Hershel stood, knees cracking. With a gentle smile, he patted your shoulder. “You’ll see.”

You returned the smile, rubbing a hand over the swell of your belly as the old man took his leave. “He’s right, Thumper. You’re worth it.” Glancing back out the window, Daryl was trudging tiredly toward the house with two rabbits. You smiled, resting your head on the back of the couch to watch him interact with Rick. “You’re both worth it.”

“Whatcha doin’ outta bed?” Daryl was pulling off his crossbow, watching you warily. You wiggled until you were sitting up against the couch arm. 

“Don’t worry. I asked Hershel. As long as I rest, I’m okay.” He watched you for a moment longer before giving a nod, disappearing to prep the rabbits for cooking the next day. Carol smiled at him in passing. You couldn’t see his face but heard him grunt in acknowledgment. Maybe one day you’d be fluent in the complicated language of Daryl. 

“How’re you feeling?” A bottle of water was handed to you. You hadn’t even realized you were thirsty until you were removing the cap and tilting it to your lips. 

After several generous gulps, you lowered the water and sighed contentedly. “I didn’t know I needed that.” 

“Well, you’ve been—” she turned her head toward where Daryl had walked away, looking back to you with an arched brow, “preoccupied.”

Your face warmed and you ducked your head. “Is it obvious?”

“Well, I’m not deaf.” She chuckled, patting your knee. 

“You heard?” You blanched, knowing you had grown impossibly redder. 

“I think everyone did.” 

“Oh god.” Mortified was an understatement. You were suddenly trying to recall the moments they could have heard but only succeeded in encouraging a sudden wave of arousal between your thighs. Well, that’s not helping. “Don’t say anything to—they can’t tease him. He’ll never—”

Carol reached out to rub your upper arm, shaking her head. “No one is saying anything. We’re all just glad some of the tension around here has eased.” She meant Rick and Lori, that wasn’t hard to figure out. 

You had barely opened your mouth to reply when Rick came in, moving quickly but quietly. 

“The fire.” He whispered harshly. You sat up straight, ignoring the pull of the stitches, and looked out the window, the scene becoming clear once the reflected light from the flames was doused. 

You managed to duck your head just as a walker passed by the the glass, its arm dragging across the surface with an eerie scraping. A myriad of shadows danced across the wall, your wide eyes following them until Daryl was crouched in front of you with a finger to his lips. His crossbow was by his foot while his hands held your boots and jacket. 

“Be quick.” He whispered so quietly that he may have only mouthed the words. You nodded and took the items, pulling on your boots without tying them and shrugging on your jacket. “Stay low.” It was hard not to smile, even with danger lurking so closely, when he wrapped his hand around yours. You let him guide you, walking as low as you could manage. 

Carol was coming down the stairs, your bag on one shoulder and her own on the other. Daryl let go of your hand to grab his bag on the way to the back door. Everyone had already gathered, Rick falling in behind Carol. The archer held up a hand to have you wait further back while he checked outside. 

“Here.” Carol whispered from your right. You glanced at her only to find her looking down, your knife held out to you. “I’ve got your gun and holsters in your bag.” Nodding your thanks, your hand wrapped around the handle and you brought the weapon in close, meeting Daryl’s eyes for a fleeting moment before he cracked open the door and peered outside. 

“S’clear. Go ‘round the right. Straight to the cars.” He began to wave everyone through, catching your hand as you passed. “Stay close to Carol. Be right behind ya.”

“Okay.” You agreed quickly and followed the other woman out. Only the pale moonlight illuminated the snowy ground as the lot of you bobbed and weaved your way around the herd. You couldn’t hear steps behind you but that wasn’t uncommon with Daryl. Even with the extra weight you carried, your own footfalls were light. 

It was close to impossible to see the dead and with the symphony of moans and snarls echoing from all around, you barely had time to stop and take a step back before the walker crossed into your path. Knife ready, you took down the woman with ease, lowering with the body to keep the noise to a minimum. 

She looked to have been a pretty lady, maybe in her thirties. Her blonde hair was missing in patches and her skin was torn and gaping in places. She was sporting a t-shirt that read No. 1 Mom.

You let that simmer after Daryl pulled you to your feet, urging you to resume the trek to the van. It was within view now, with only three walkers circling. Glenn, Maggie, and T-Dog dispatched them quickly enough, creating an open path straight to the vehicle. 

Twenty minutes on the road was long enough to lose yourself in consideration of the woman you’d put down. It wasn’t hard to imagine yourself meeting a similar fate, maybe forced to bear witness to the grizzly death of your child or dying without knowing what became of them. What if she had been the one to kill her kid? What if it was an infant, a toddler? Unable to understand why this person who was meant to protect them was causing them pain?

You cried for her. You cried for the child. Silent tears that you didn’t attempt to hinder while you sought out the comforting rumble of Daryl’s bike just ahead. Even if you did fall victim to the dead, he’d never allow your baby to be hurt. You could take comfort in that. As long as one of you was breathing, your child would never know harm. 

The weather only grew more unforgiving as the days wore on, chipping away at any shreds of hope that were managing to survive in your little group. Another home found and lost. Freezing nights huddled against Daryl in the backseat of the van. A great deal of the blankets had been sacrificed when fleeing the dead. Of course, you, Lori, and Carl were given the heaviest ones that remained. Daryl would wrap you snugly and then hold you tight, claiming that alone would keep him warm enough. Apparently he still thought you were stupid. 

Food was dwindling. Once again, you were arguing with the archer about eating meager portions so that you could have more. If each bite wasn’t worth more than gold had been valued in the old world, you would have surely thrown many a bowl at him. 

His hunting trips grew longer and longer, now gone for no less than two days at a time. Measures were in place to ensure he knew how to find the group should the need to flee become necessary in his absence. Still, you worried. He manged to bring back more, usually rabbits but had lucked out with a small doe on the last excursion. With an extra few runs, enough salt was procured for the majority of the meat to be dried into jerky. It was sorted into each of your bags so it was sure to not be left behind if you had to leave quickly. The rest of the meat was prepared into a stew that could be reheated for a couple of days. 

It was nice to eat well for once, surrounded by full bellies and sleepy faces. The one face you wanted to see was absent, however. Daryl was on first watch at the small ranch style home. There were no fences but the land was open for a good distance before the treeline. Walkers would be spotted and the group could move on before the dead even made it halfway to the house. 

You bundled up, pulling up your hood, meaning to sit outside with him for a while. You grabbed one of the smaller blankets on your way out. Whether he admitted it or not, the long sleeve flannel under his vest was not enough to keep the frigid temperatures at bay. He was coughing into his elbow as you passed over the threshold, noticing his stew, long cold, was hardly touched. Pointing it out would only lead to another argument and at 28 weeks pregnant in an apocalypse, you just didn’t have the energy to spare. 

He was scrubbing a hand roughly over his face when you draped the fabric over his shoulders. For once, he didn’t argue, simply nodding while watching you move his bowl aside to sit down. 

He cleared his throat, his voice quiet and raspy. “Weren’t that hungry.” 

“I can heat it for you later if you change your mind.” Shoving your hands into your pockets, you leaned onto his shoulder and watched the gentle flurries pepper down from above.

“Ain’t gonna nag me?” 

“Nope.” You smiled fondly to yourself. “You’re stubborn as ten mules and this baby has been kicking me non stop for two days. I don’t have the energy to attempt and force feed their father.” He nudged his shoulder upward, jarring a giggle out of you. “We do need to find you a coat. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”

“Your tits ain’t never cold.”

Rolling your head on his shoulder, you feigned offense. “Why, Daryl Dixon. Did you just call me a witch?”

“If the broomstick fits.” 

That coaxed a startled laugh out of you. “Huh.” You stared at him a moment longer and then settled back into watching the snow. 

“What?” He leaned a little to angle his head in order to see your face.

“Thought you’d misplaced your sense of humor, that’s all. Maybe you found it while your head was so far up your ass.”

“Think you're funny?” He huffed, clearly not annoyed. It was refreshing to just talk like two people in a relationship on a cold, snowy night. Maybe you could pretend the world hadn’t ended for at least a moment. 

“Oh, I know I am. It’s part of my irresistible charm.” You retorted cheerily. Daryl made a pfft sound and joined you in watching the snow. It was almost hypnotic; the peace of the moment drawing you in until you were sure you’d fall asleep. 

When Daryl coughed again, you startled and sat up straight. He had turned away and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, muffling the sound to the best of his ability. 

“Are you okay?” It was hard to keep the concern out of your tone, terrified he’d withdraw from you. He had been trying, the evidence of his efforts displayed in his own ways. 

Over the last month, you’d never felt closer to him. He had found a truck, loading the bike in the back so that you would be with him anytime moving was necessary. There wasn’t much time for intimacy, not sexually, though he’d made you cum on his fingers a few times while the others laid behind him, sound asleep and none the wiser. He seemed to enjoy your company, especially while on watch. He didn’t speak much but when he did, he was soft and attentive. He would watch you in silence, tinkering with his crossbow or prepping a kill to be cooked. He still agitated easily, but he was trying. You couldn’t ask for more than that. 

“M’fine. Just a cold.”

It made sense. He was out in the elements more than anyone. He wasn’t eating or sleeping nearly enough. His body could only take so much abuse. 

“We have the venison, Daryl. Why don’t you stay in for a few days?” Pulling your hands from your pockets, you dragged the sleeves down to cover them. How did the man stand it without proper clothing?

“Could always use more. That jerky ain’t gonna last forever an’ the stew will keep a day or two.” The flickering glow from the lighter’s flame cast a soft hue across his face, gone too quickly for you to truly admire. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he turned his head to blow the smoke away from you. Such a small gesture, but it made your heart flutter. 

“Well, I can’t argue with that, I guess.” In truth, you couldn’t. Food was food and it was necessary. “Maybe I could go with you. You know I can hunt and—”

“Nah. No way.” He barely got the words out before coughing again. “You’re stayin’ here with ev’ryone else.”

“I can help and you know it.” You weren’t angry, but still found it difficult to keep the bitterness out of your words.

“Know ya can. Don’t mean ya should.” He took another draw from his smoke, exhaling while rubbing at his throat. Was he even aware he was doing that? “Best way ya can help me is stayin’ here an’ keepin’ the two’a ya safe.” It was dark but you could still see the pink beginning to cover his cheeks. “Get inside ‘fore ya get sick.”

You smiled slyly, crossing your arms. “I’ll go inside if you go too.” He turned his head toward you, brow drawn inward. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, angry, or amused. Either way, you tipped up your chin defiantly. “Someone else can take watch. You’re leaving to hunt tomorrow and need to sleep.”

Those blue eyes narrowed, the flare of the cigarette giving them the illusion of burning like the hottest flame. He never looked away, exhaling from the corner of his mouth to keep the smoke away from you. “You’re a brat.” 

“Yep.” You grinned. 

“Fine. Jesus, go inside. Be there in a minute.” He grumbled something under his breath and continued his smoke, shaking his head after looking away from you. With a triumphant HA, you grabbed the dilapidated railing by the steps and pulled yourself to your feet, cradling your belly to bend enough for your lips to press against his cheek. “Pain in my ass.”

He made you cum twice that night but not before denying you for an agonizing amount of time. 

“This baby is definitely a Dixon. Doesn’t ever stop moving.” 

Carol chuckled, stirring the stew she had just removed from the fire in the other room. “You’re gonna miss it once they’re born, I promise.” Her smile faded, a morose air encasing her. As your baby moved under your hand once again, a pang of guilt came with it. 

“Oh, Carol, I’m sorry.”

The silver-haired woman rarely spoke of her daughter anymore, but that wasn’t to say that the pain ever left her eyes. There was a permanent sadness etched there. Now two women she traveled with, survived alongside, were pregnant. It was a slap in the face from the universe. 

But Carol? She handled it with a grace you weren’t sure you would ever possess. 

“Nothing to apologize for, silly.” She reached for the hand that lay across your rounded middle and squeezed it. You smiled solemnly as she went back to stirring the day’s meal. “Daryl should be back today. He never stays out more than two days.” She chuckled quietly. “I think he only does that much out of necessity. He’d likely stay right here with you if he had a choice.”

“I think he leaves for two days cause he needs a break from me.” You mused, plucking a piece of venison right from the pot. Carol shot you a sarcastic look of disapproval but refrained from scolding you. “I’m not easy to get along with at the best of times. Forget being in a relationship with me while I’m 92 weeks pregnant.”

“So you did take that step.” When you blinked at her with wide eyes, she shrugged. “He’s not exactly forthcoming with details regarding his personal life but sightings have been noted of cheek kissing and even a little hand holding.”

“Glenn never could keep his mouth shut.” 

“Don’t worry. He’s been informed that if Daryl ever hears him, he’s likely to lose a limb. He’s aware of the dangers.” While the two of you laughed, Maggie stuck her head in the door. 

“Daryl’s back.” She waggled her eyebrows at you, prompting a one-fingered gesture in return. “Real classy, Y/N.”

“Hey, I am the perfect representation of a lady.” You winked at Carol and squeezed her upper arm before meeting Maggie in the doorway, bumping her with your hip. You quietly released a tense breath once out of sight. It was getting late. Try as you might, you couldn’t help but worry when it took him a little longer to get back. 

Grabbing your coat, you quickly pulled it on and zipped it. There was still plenty of room for your growing belly. It should last you the remainder of the pregnancy. The snow was at least four inches deep, quite the difference from when the archer had left two days prior. Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were out scavenging for the usual food and medicine, but you had cornered them before they left and made them promise to find a warm coat for Daryl. 

The wind was frigid in the evening hours, the temperature steadily dropping. Your face stung from only seconds of exposure when you walked down the steps to meet him. At first glance, everything seemed fine. It wasn’t until he was closer that you noticed his unsteady gait, the way he was dragging the string of rabbits through the white powder behind him. 

“Hey.” You called over the gusts, smiling at him when he slowly looked up. He didn’t return the expression but he wasn’t a teeth and gums smiler anyway. That much you could brush aside without concern. It was the wet, barking cough into the crook of his elbow that shifted your concern to something just short of panic. “Daryl?”

“Got some rabbits.” He croaked, walking right past you and into the house. You followed on his heels, leaning forward to relieve him of the four animals before he could object. He fixed you with a sharp glare but you only smiled and backed toward the kitchen. 

“Just gonna put these in there. We can clean them together in just a bit.” There was no time for either of the other women to question your hurry. You deposited the rabbits on the counter by the old sink and exited just as quickly as you had entered. 

Daryl was coughing again when you returned, a painful sounding hack that jarred his entire body. His chest seemed to rattle with each breath, his movements sluggish while he removed his crossbow from his back. 

“Hey, are you okay?” You moved closer but still gave him several feet of distance. 

“M’fine.” He gestured vaguely around his upper torso. “S’just this fuckin’ cold.”

“Right.” You answered, watching him remove his poncho and vest. He must have sensed your eyes on him, an irritated glance thrown your way. 

“What?” He snapped. 

“You look like shit and sound even worse.” Your feet were propelling you toward him but he somehow managed to sidestep around you. “Daryl, hang on.”

“Ain’t in the mood for your shit, Y/N.” There was a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue that you swallowed when he began to cough again and staggered to catch himself against the wall. 

“Daryl?” You were at his side in an instant, your arm winding around this back to help support him. You couldn’t miss the heat you felt beneath his shirt. “Fuck, you’re hotter than a jalapeño’s ass!”

“Told ya, m’fine.” He hissed, probably attempting menacing but only managing a weak rasp. 

“You’re not fine, Daryl.” You held on tighter when he tried to shrug you off, a good thing since his legs buckled a moment later and took you both down. You managed to control the fall, ending with the two of you on your knees. Daryl coughed harshly, only managing to stay upright with your support. “Maggie! Maggie, get Hershel!”

“What’s wrong?” The eldest Greene ran into the room, followed by Carol. “Shit.”  One look and she disappeared, yelling for her father while Carol came around to Daryl’s other side. 

“Ain’t—no reason—for all this fussin’.”

“Shut up, Daryl. Daryl?” Your eyes met his briefly, fear and panic flashing through them before they rolled up and he slumped forward against you. “Daryl!”

[elementroar]

Question about Paracelsus, does he actually like aba? I’m guessing in the older game, he mostly tolerated her because she can fight (except for the fact he deliberately chooses not to control her) but in the new one, I’m pretty much confused. When he ends his transformation, He says “That’s my answer, ABA, As your partner.” Problem is that I have no idea which meaning of “partner” he meant. It could be just fighting partners but him having a whole emotional speech and transformation for a “business partner.” If I try to look at the view of actually going for ABA’s dreams for marriage, it feels incomplete and odd because she is slowly transforming him into what she sees fit. Please I really want to know what he meant!

Side note: ABA’s feelings of jealousy and abandonment are completely valid as Paracelsus has done that! To her face! WITH A RANDOM STRANGER TO HER!!! In night of knives volume 2.

Life partner, since Paracelsus no longer really wants to fight on principle, so 'fighting partner' like he used to regard A.B.A as and originally hoped she would regard him as, that's out of the window. So if he's still resolving to stay with her, it's as a life partner. The extent of what that means to him is prolly different from A.B.A, but that can evolve over time.

Because Paracelsus, as he has stated, is an axe. He understands relationships in axe terms, which is he acknowledges his wielder (which he did acknowledge A.B.A as at the end of Night of Knives) and he kills other people that threaten them. His whole situation-ship with A.B.A has forced him to be involved in roles he was never equipped to deal with and was forced to adapt to - being an emotional support, being an actual object of attraction, having to constantly protect his wielder from herself, having to be a counsel on social norms that he shouldn't know all that well to begin with as an axe but he's expected to, having to communicate on behalf of his wielder to navigate social situations and dispel conflict - quite literally none of these are on the checklist of 'being an axe that kills people real good.

Yeah he wanted to leave A.B.A in NoK, and honestly who wouldn't? From his perspective, she was hellbent on not treating him as the weapon he wanted her to treat him as. She was figuratively and literally emotion dumping on him constantly, what with the empathetic bond prolly not helping matters. And he kept trying to dispel every delusion and assumption she had about their relationship constantly. As he was being sexually harassed despite his protests and mid-battle, constantly.

But even back then, Slayer implied that Paracelsus never hated A.B.A personally, but her constant advances, the situations they got into, it was all frustrating to him when he really wanted to be 'just a weapon' back then.

We kinda skipped Paracelsus character development up till STRIVE but IMO, I think he figured out he had to be proactive with A.B.A, cause sticking with his "I'm a weapon, and only a weapon" principles wasn't helping. He accepted that he needed to be the responsible one of the two, that he had to kick his blood habit because it made him lose control and also got them into fights etc. He accepted that he had to change for the sake of A.B.A.

Thinking about marriage for them is kinda falling into the trap that A.B.A fell into IMO. Her theme hints that being bound by specific definitions of words or expectations may have prevented her and them from organically growing their relationship, whatever it can or would be.

Part of her major development is that she acknowledges she's been obsessed with the idea of love, but not actually truly understanding what it is. Her obsession with Paracelsus is more of her playing the part rather than understanding the feeling. Part of her growth was choosing to let go of Paracelsus for his own good, and in fact it was an expression of true love, even though she didn't realize it. Paracelsus is also learning about love and Elphelt suggested that looking out for someone is in fact a form of love, and that surprised him. He didn't seem to realize that the steps he's taken to take care of A.B.A are expressions of love themselves either.

As Paracelsus explained to A.B.A, he's not sure where their relationship will go or what the future holds for them. How their feelings will develop is still up in the air, but he tries to show A.B.A that if he could change so much, then she can too. The idea is that they're finally free to be whatever they're going to be, and they're choosing to stick together to that end, and that's the most important thing.

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 22/∞

LUO BINGHE AND SHEN QINGQIU WERE MEANT TO END UP TOGETHER IN THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF PIDW

Rating: FANON - CONFLICTING

There is a somewhat common interpretation in fandom that in Airplane's original outline for PIDW, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu were meant to be together in the end. While this could be an entertaining concept, and there is a potential argument to support it, I believe that this interpretation conflicts with canon due to the fact that a contradictory intention for the original draft was directly stated.

The original idea most likely comes from the following quote:

Shang Qinghua raised his arms high. “Cucumber-bro,” he said, impassioned, “if the System hadn’t selected you, a loyal and die-hard reader, I’m afraid the plot would never have been distorted to this extent, right back to the outline I discarded..." (7 Seas, Ch. 21)

While it is certainly one possible interpretation to read this as "the plot of SVSSS is what Airplane would have written," and on first glance it does appear to be this way, I think that this has much more to do with the type of characters and the filling of plot holes, as earlier in the conversation, he says this:

"...Compared to writing the kind of stallion guy who’s everywhere on Zhongdian, it’s better to portray a male lead like the current Bing-ge, whose life is full of mishaps, whose personality is a bit more complex and full of contradictions and conflicts—that kind of weirdo. That’s more in line with my writing philosophy.” (7 Seas, Ch. 21)

Shen Qingqiu is the one who first remarks on sexuality, and Airplane defends gay protagonists, but the "original outline" seems to be more likely referencing this quote.

There is also the interesting fact of this thought:

Why did that make it sound like the System and this world were the creation of Shang Qinghua’s regrets, as an author who’d had to scrap his outline in favor of popular opinion? (7 Seas, Ch. 21)

Though this is just a side thought from Shen Qingqiu, it is an interesting thing to note nonetheless, especially if one also considers the system's original requirements:

【 One, change the nonsensical plot and raise the average IQ of the villains and supporting characters. Two, avoid landmines that break suspension of disbelief. Three, ensure the main character’s satisfaction points. Four, discover and finish hidden plot events. 】 (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

If we follow the thread of "the system as a creation of Shang Qinghua's regrets," we can pair that with the list of requirements above. Of course, that implies that there is anything specifically to read from that earlier comment of Shen Qingqiu's, which may or may not be the case.

Considering the requirements, though, the only one that specifically relates to BingQiu getting together would be "ensure the main character's satisfaction points," but it does not specify romance between those two characters as the only way to do so.

While the first passage is the one mainly used to argue for this theory, one could also use the matter of Shen Qingqiu's red thread linking to Luo Binghe to support it-- that is, if one ascribes the cut thread to either Shen Yuan's former life, or to some other party, and the current thread belonging to the identity of Shen Qingqiu (not specifically Shen Yuan, therefore meaning that it was still present with Shen Jiu). This is a fairly weak argument, but one I will still address for clarity's sake. The text specifically says the following regarding the red threads:

“Sir, about the red thread from your past—my skill is insufficient, so I can’t…see it clearly. At first glance, it seemed like you were alone, but if I look carefully, I can catch a faint glimpse of another thread.” She concluded regretfully, “This thread has been cut… Such a pity.” Shen Jiu had once had a fiancée, but Shen Yuan was a single dog! Their two threads were tangled together, so it was no surprise that the madam couldn’t see it all clearly. (7 Seas, Ch. 23)

Shen Yuan assumes the cut thread belongs to Shen Jiu-- and this makes sense, since it is only a faint glimpse. The remnant of Shen Jiu's red thread remaining attached to Shen Qingqiu's body falls in line with the way that Shen Jiu's memories also remained to some degree-- even though it is Shen Yuan's soul which now occupies the body, there are still traces of its former inhabitant. As to who Shen Jiu's cut thread belongs to, that is a topic for another post-- nonetheless, it is safe to believe that neither of these threads of the past point to Luo Binghe. Notably, there is not one single red thread that stretches from the past to the future. The options in the past are either "alone" or "severed thread," regardless of whose is whose.

Of course, despite these arguments having strengths and weaknesses, nothing thus far has proven one way or another whether Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe were intended to be together-- for that, we must go to Shang Qinghua's own thoughts and the following passage:

【 Basic completion of Proud Immortal Demon Way’s original outline achieved (slight deviation in romance plotline); objective complete. Retrieving function to return to original world; download complete. Activate Return Home sequence? 】 Basic completion of the original outline? That he agreed with. All the holes that needed to be filled had been filled. But this “slight deviation of romance plot” wasn’t quite right. Bing-ge was now fully gay; how could you say that was a “slight deviation”? Ah, fine, fine, in fact, in his original outline, Bing-ge hadn’t even had a romance plotline; he had been doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever. If you insisted on adding a romance plotline, all right, that was whatever, so putting aside all the System’s rambling…this meant he could return to his original world?! (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

This passage makes it perfectly clear that the BingQiu romance was not part of the original outline, both in the system's note of "slight deviation in romance plotline," as well as in Shang Qinghua's own words-- that the original Bing-ge wasn't intended to have a romance at all.

If it were not for this section, I would rate the theory as unsupported or perhaps as neutral, but because there is direct clarification in the above passage, it can only be said that Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu were not canonically meant to end up together in the original draft of PIDW, and that this assertion is fanon which contradicts canon.

[avelera]

Ok I now realize why I had such a positive view of Marius even though the show stating that he groomed Armand and prostituted him has the fandom out for his blood. Because for me at least, the idea that Marius prostituted Armand against his will was a surprise based on what I remembered.

- In “The Vampire Lestat” we get a mini-version of Armand’s biography and in it, we explicitly learn that Marius did not prostitute Armand after freeing him from the brothel where Armand was abused.

- He explicitly tells Armand he does not need to sexually please him to have his regard. He puts Armand in his art school with his other mortal students, though it’s clear Armand is a favorite, and is eventually sort of put in charge of the boys like a teacher’s assistant whenever Marius needs to go see to Those Who Must Be Kept.

- He tells Armand before he turns him to have as full of a life as possible even though Armand is constantly begging to be turned sooner. He tells him to, “Know the love of a woman, know the love of a man!” But on his own terms. There is no mention at all of Marius coercing (directly or indirectly) Armand into prostituting himself to his guests.

But this is TVL and The Vampire Armand expands upon his background and that book I don’t remember as well, though I do know there’s sex in it that Marius and Armand participate in together along with others, but I don’t remember if there was an element of prostitution or coercion. “Pandora” also gives Marius a bit of a bad name but more insofar as Marius and Pandora drift apart, just as many vampires do in the series, especially after one turns the other because vampirism changes people.

Once again, the prostitution could be in Vampire Armand and I just don’t remember it. Also the show could be adding this element or rather strengthening it, implying that Marius was all along planning (and therefore grooming given his young age) Armand to make a vampiric companion and lover out of him even though the mini biography in TVL implies the opposite, that he rescued Armand for his beauty yes but also because he was living in horrific conditions and them becoming lovers and Armand his fledgling was unplanned and came much later.

Or it could just be a hurtful thing Louis is throwing in Armand’s face during their fight because Armand in the books did worship Marius and did everything he could to please him, so saying it was grooming would be a deliberate jab at a painful subject for Armand. And we do have Armand saying explicitly that he was prostituted and heavily heavily implied against his will while at the museum, obviously.

I was just more perplexed at myself that this line caught me off guard and made me question my own memory. In general Marius is very much a protagonist in the Vampire Chronicles, if sometimes prone to bouts of jealousy and irritation, he’s not perfect, but those imperfections are presented as just a human part of him. And the fact that, at least in TVL if not in TVA, Marius protected and educated Armand and specifically told him he didn’t need to prostitute himself and it was Armand asking to be a vampire with Marius appearing reluctant until Armand had lived more of a life. So at least I didn’t remember it wrong from that book.

[systemrestart]

From Alison Bechdel's "Dykes to Watch Out For". Strip name "Au Courant", from 1994

I'd never seen this strip get posted, so I want others to see it. Mo, the character expressing 'concern' over the inclusion of trans women (as well as bisexuals) in lesbian culture, is often portrayed as being overly self-righteous, jumping to conclusions about others, and not critically examining her own biases and worldview. She was also the character in the comic commissioned for Transgender Warriors, where she learns she was wrong for being anxious about sharing a bathroom with a trans woman.

Mo is often either the butt of the joke, or receives a stark lesson in these interactions (whether by confrontation or just becoming socially isolated, because she's difficult to be around). And I found this framing important, especially as I've heard discussion of TERFs trying to claim Bechdel as one of them.

This comic was not made to validate Mo's opinions or feelings. The characters in Bechdel's comics are often messy, short-sighted, even bigoted. They're human. This comic does not valorize or 'condone' these flaws, merely shows them for what they are, as well as the consequences that come with them, and the effects they can have on your communities.

[Update Note: Recently learned some new things about Bechdel's feelings/choices regarding trans issues (particularly transmisogyny), link here if you're interested in reading. It seems that beyond DTWOF, Bechdel 'supports' trans people in an esoteric sort of way, but is seemingly unwilling to unpack deeper transphobic feelings/views, or her ties with TERF-aligned people. Deeply disappointing.

I don't think that impacts DTWOF itself much (except the framing of the character Janis, may make a post about that someday), as again all of the characters in DTWOF have wildly varying views, and that's The Point, but, it's something I think people ought to know if we're going to have a discussion about Bechdel in connection to TERFs and transmisogyny]

Transcript of the comic below the cut:

[ID: A "Dykes to Watch Out For" comic strip by Alison Bechdel, featuring the characters Mo and Lois. The conversation is as follows:

MO: Oh, jeez. Here's a submission for "Madwimmin Read" from someone named Jillian who identifies as a transsexual lesbian.

LOIS: Cool.

MO: The cover letter says, "I hope you'll consider changing the name of your reading series for local lesbian writers to be inclusive of transgender and bisexual women writers too." Oh, man!

LOIS: Guess it's time to get with the program, huh?

MO: What am I supposed to do? Have bi women and drag queens come in here and read about schtupping their boyfriends?

LOIS: Why not? I'm sure they'd have a unique perspective on the topic.

MO: Lois, I'm still trying to adjust to lesbians using dildos! What am I supposed to make of a man who became a woman who's attracted to women?!

LOIS: Love is a many gendered thing, pal. Get used to it.

MO: Well fine. Let people do what they want. But I'm not gonna add this unwieldy "bisexual and transgender" business to the name of my reading series. I don't even know what transgender means!

LOIS: It's sort of an evolving concept. I mean, we haven't had any language for people you can't neatly peg as either boy or girl.

LOIS: Like cross-dressers, transsexuals, people who live as the opposite sex but don't have surgery, drag queens and kings, and all kinds of other transgressive folks. "Transgender" is a way to unite everyone into a group, even though all these people might not self-identify as transgender.

LOIS: In fact, the point is that we're all just ourselves, and not categories. Instead of two rigid genders, there's an infinite sexual continuum! Cool, huh?

MO: How do you know all this stuff?

END ID]

[sheyri]

My Triple A experience at Pride

I love going to Pride. Being among fellow queer people, loud music, blocking traffic with our demonstration, and just vibing. I try to attend as many as I can and travel for hours on full trains if necessary.

Big Prides are great, but I especially love smaller ones in rural areas. It's less of a party and more of a demonstration, as it should be. Unfortunately rural in my area means risking confrontations with nazis, but that's a different story.

But no matter how much I love being at Pride, there's always this underlying feeling of being excluded.

Even at smaller Prides, I'm usually not the only person with an ace flag. Occasionally you can find someone with an aro flag, sometimes even an aroace person. Rarely someone with an agender flag. Though there are more people with those as pins or other accessories. But hey, most people just have the rainbow flag and no one has to disclose their sexuality or gender. In short, the people in the demonstration are great!

But from the organisation side? It's almost like the A doesn't exist! Stage discussions? Nope, at most they name asexual when they go through the list of labels. Info material? I saw one flyer about grey asexuality. Stickers? Yeah, okay, those exist in the mix, but mostly ace.

On the other hand you see lesbian and gay, trans and bi everywhere. I love penis/I love vagina, love is love, love who you want, etc. Great to see that political parties don't look past the LGBT. Nice that discussions include non-binary people as an afterthought.

When talking about love all the time, is it too much to ask to mention there are different kinds of love? That love doesn't have to be romantic to be valid? That it can be whatever you want it to be? Mention the split attraction model in info material? Have info material about aromanticism at all? Some parties actually have an aromantic sticker, but those are even rarer than ace ones.

This year there's a lot of talk about legally changing your gender, because they finally changed the law in Germany to make it a lot easier. The stage discussions are all about how it used to be and how much easier it is now. I'm not sure if I heard mention of non-binary and intersex people in this regard. If, then it wasn't much. Would've been nice to hear them mention that "diverse" is an option for your legal gender, or that you can have it removed all together. And why and for whom that is important. Especially since some federal states banned gender sensitive language from schools and government places, to "protect the German language". (They criticised that and it's a whole different rant.) Come on, gender isn't a binary, some people exist somewhere in the middle, or outside of it, or don't have a gender at all. That's not new information and queer organisations like Pride should be well aware of that and speak about it! But I guess that topic is too risky and too uncomfortable for a stage in a public place.

TL,DR Pride is great, but as an aroace agender person I often feel excluded and unseen at least to some extent.

All that said, I have to end on something positive: my favourite Pride so far - CSD Göttingen 2023.

Organised by the community, for the community. No political parties were present, because they were not invited and not welcome. Instead we had queer organisations talking on stage and manning booths. Including the local asexual and aromantic network.

There were banners along the demonstration route, saying love is love. They were put up by the city, independently, without asking the organisers if those banners were wanted. They were not. (The organisers said that.)

Out of 15 Prides I went to so far, this one was the one where I felt most at home. Unfortunately it's quite far from where I live and this year it shares a date with another Pride I want to attend, so I can't go there again. Hopefully next year. And hopefully they can keep going like this. Independent from politicians.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Hiraeth II

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Summary: You had always been his, and no one could take you away from him. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Slight age gap, Murder intention, Mention of death, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: you know what, Kim Seokjin just hits different to me. I miss him and I’m taking u all down with me in my I-miss-u-jin-era.

Masterlist Hiraeth I

After you got over your initial shock in which you thoughtlessly swung your fist to his handsome face, you found yourself sheepishly walking to the kitchen where you could hear him moving. He looked up as soon as you entered the room, one side of his bruised lips tilted up. He watched you moved with a secretive smile on his face that you so badly wanted to erase. Jin looked like he was thoroughly enjoying this. You couldn’t help but notice how much he changed. He matured, no longer the young man who had soft cheeks and undefined body. Instead, your eyes roamed over his sharp features and his muscular back that couldn’t be hidden by his shirt. In front of you was a man who was confident. And you didn’t know how to handle him.

You didn’t know how to handle him when in the first place, you thought you would never see him again, not after you ran from him. Not after he begged you to come back.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked after enough time had passed and he was still looking at you as though he was waiting for you to crack. And you did. You could’t take his heavy eyes, couldn’t take the silence as he watched you.

Was he this insufferable when you were younger?

Were you just too blind to see him for how he really was?

Additionally…was he this beautiful when you were younger? Or was time just unfairly favorable to him?

He gestured to the noodles he was stirring. “I’m cooking us breakfast, princess.”

His old name for you hindered you from reacting quickly. You blinked owlishly, memories of him calling you that playing in flashback.

“Yes….but why here?”

He turned off the stove leisurely as if his answer wouldn’t rattle your whole world before leaning his body on the counter, his eyes focused on yours. “Where else would I be? I live here.”

“What? B-but, your mother- she didn’t tell me…”

He shrugged, busying himself with plating the food and bringing it to the simple yet elegant dining table. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” He asked in a nonchalant voice, his movements precise and calm.

When you didn’t answer, he tilted his head to the side, his hand inside his pocket as he stalked slowly to where you were standing near the door. If he noticed how you seemed to be one push away from running, he didn’t comment. Instead, there he was, his tall form towering over you. “Do I make you nervous, princess?”

“J-Jin-“

“Tsk,” he shook his head, his dark, unfathomable eyes focused on yours. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, giving him that regal look you always thought he possessed. “What happened to ‘Oppa’?” He asked in what one would thought of as a sincere question, but the mocking glint in his eyes could not fool you.

“I-I don’t-“

“Hmm? You don’t what?” He whispered sweetly, his fingers stroking your hair. He was transfixed with the way time changed you. Yet, he hated how he wasn’t there to experience growing up with you because you took yourself away from his grasp. But no more. He took a deep breath to calm the demons in him, before flashing you his usual, carefree smile.

“Do I still affect you, princess?”

“N-no!”

Jin regarded you for a moment too long, his eyes sparkling with something akin to mischief and danger. “Perfect,” he beamed at you before pulling your wrist to the dining table. “There’s no reason for you not to stay here, then. Come on, let’s eat.”

Despite him acting as though no years passed between the two of you, you simply couldn’t. You could feel the weight of seeing him in person sitting heavily on your shoulders, could hear the unspoken words no one had the strength and courage to say, could feel the guilt and anguish in your heart.

“So,” you began, your eyes focused on the chopsticks in your hand. “H-how have you been, Seokjin?”

He scoffed, his dark eyes boring on yours. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

“It’s just that…it’s been so long.”

“And whose fault is that,” he stated tonelessly, his large hand closing to a fist before calming himself down. He needed to remind himself that he had you now, that he wasn’t going to lose you this time.

He had to remind himself that he needed to forgive you if he wanted a clean start with you.

“Never mind,” you sighed, clearly discouraged with his response. What did you expect? You practically ghosted him the moment your turned eighteen, turning your back on your closest childhood friend, to your remaining family just because you were in pain.

Perhaps, you should acknowledge that you hurt him in the process of healing yourself. You didn’t know if you wanted to fix the ruined relationship between the two of you, didn’t know if you could redeem yourself. You had so much buried feelings that you didn’t know if this was worth it.

You quietly ate your food, already internally planning your living situation. You would sort out your living situation today. You could not live with Jin, not when he made you feel things you thought you had long killed. You could not-

“I’m sorry.”

You blinked owlishly as you looked up at the man sitting in front of you. Your astonished and lost expression softened his resolve, it melted his anger.

Only you could silence the dark thoughts in his head. Ironically, you were the reason why the demons in his mind were born.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You were just trying your best to heal the way you know how. It’s okay,” Jin stated, his eyes trained on you, willing you to see his sincerity. Except that it wasn’t okay you left. Yet, he knew it was the best for you despite it destroying him so monumental it took him years to feel normal.

Should you leave him again, he knew the carefully reconstructed sanity of his will tumble down.

“I’m just sorry you had to do it all alone,” he whispered sadly.

Aside from your therapist, you had never spoken about this with anyone. To you, it was something so tragic that saying it would make you relive the pain, loneliness and desperation it caused you. This was the first time in almost a decade that someone acknowledged your pain, you strength, and the sacrifices made along the way.

“But princess,” he continued, his hand reaching across the table to clasp yours. And once he did, he felt peace the moment he was able to touch you. “You don’t have to be alone. Not anymore.”

It was an hour later when you emerge to the living room where Jin was drying his hair. His movements slowed down when he saw you after you ran once again from him. After he said that you didn’t have to be alone, you walked to the bedroom without a word. You didn’t know how to handle your emotions, and the only way you knew how was to run.

And so ran, you did.

He raised his dark eyebrows at you when you didn’t say anything. “Going somewhere?”

You nodded, looking anywhere but him. Was he always this handsome even when had just showered? Was this fair? You looked like a drenched cat when you finished showering, and yet he looked like he was shooting a commercial.

“D-do you know where the nearest bus stop is?”

He nodded, “It’s more than an hour away.”

“What about taxi?”

He blinked innocently, “This is an exclusive neighborhood, princess. Taxis are not allowed here,” he shared in a thoughtful manner.

You swore under your breath. You had grown up in Korea, but you lived your whole adult life in abroad that you were no longer confident with yourself here. You were so certain that you would get lost.

He watched you with a smirk in his face, “You can borrow one of my cars,” he offered with an innocent look on his face.

“I don’t know how to drive.”

He knew that.

“In that case,” he sighed as he stood up, stretching his hands upwards. You didn’t even have it in you to not look at his toned abs, didn’t have it in you to look away from his leaned, yet muscular arms. Jin smiled innocently at you when he noticed your wandering eyes.

“In that case, I need to drive you,” Jin shook his head slowly as though he was burdened by this when the truth was that this was his plan all along.

Jin sat patiently at the hotel lobby, his legs spread out. He was smiling indulgently as you walked near him with a defeated expression in your face. Jin was wearing a black cap to hide his identity, and besides that, an inconspicuous bodyguard was trailing after the two of you at Jin’s command. He wouldn’t risk his princess, after all.

He looked up at you as you stood in front of him, your expression confused and tired as you informed him that there was no available room. This was the seventh hotel you went to, and so far your plan hadn’t been successful.

“So?”

You shook your head, clearly apparent that you wouldn’t move out today. You were stuck. And you loathed depending on anyone, more so you hated depending on him again just like when you were younger. Just like when he would always take care of you, regardless if he was reluctant or not. You became overly independent when you moved away from everyone. It was a thing that your therapist was still trying to resolve. However, you just couldn’t let yourself depend on anyone on anything ever gain for the fear that one day, they might leave you alone too.

“I’ll just stay in a motel-“

Jin stood up, his proximity effectively cutting you off. He tilted your chin up, his eyes serious. “I’m not making you leave, princess. You can stay with me as long as you want,” he offered with a sincere smile in his face when all he wanted to say was that your place was beside him, and it should have been the case since the beginning if only he didn’t lose control. He could see the battle in your eyes, the weariness and the stubbornness to not to give in to him was apparent. You needed a nudge.

You entered the quaint restaurant, your eyes roaming around the area as you waited for Jin. He dropped you off in front before parking his car. The restaurant had a homey vibes to it. Sunlight was freely flowing to the room, and the windows were open which allowed the customers to feel the pleasant breeze. You could see customers enjoying their food and talking animatedly with the other- more so the one group on your right who had their heads bowed down, too engrossed with their food while talking and laughing among themselves. You felt a hand on the small of your back. You looked behind you to see Seokjin smiling at you with his cap still on. He was guiding you in when you heard the sound of utensils falling on the floor. You looked to your right where the group of men were eating and realization dawned upon you.

Jungkook’s eyes were the first ones you met. His doe eyes were even bigger from shock, his mouth agape with his chopstick suspended in the air. Beside him was Taehyung who looked at you and Jin with knowing eyes before smiling that rectangular smile of his. Jimin and Hoseok both looked at you in surprised.

“H-hyung?” Jungkook called Jin with confusion in his face as he looked down at Jin’s hand on you. He had never seen his hyung touched someone from another gender willingly. To be honest, Seokjin didn’t care much about anyone outside the members and his own family. Seeing him looking at you with too much emotion in his otherwise emotionless eyes made all of them curious about who you were.

Jin sighed before looking at his members. “You’re all here. Again.”

“We were starving…” the man you recognized as the leader explained sheepishly. He turned to look at you before smiling, “Hi. I’m Namjoon. And you are?”

—

You found yourself sat beside Seokjin who was busy putting food on your plate. If he noticed his members looking at him as though an imposter took his place, he didn’t comment. It was as if the six men looking at the two of you with mixture of bewilderment from Jungkook and Jimin, curiosity from Namjoon and Hoseok, amusement from Taehyung and strangely, indifference from Yoongi, didn’t bother him.

But it bothered you.

You broke eye contact with Taehyung who was sitting beside you with his chin resting on his hand as he examined you with twinkle in his eyes to look at the other man beside you.

“Are you sure it’s fine for me to sit with you? What if someone sees?” You leaned to whisper at Jin.

He merely shrugged. It didn’t matter. In fact, he wanted the world to know you were his. “Eat, princess.”

“I can’t,” you whispered once again, hyperaware of the six pair of eyes on you and him.

“Why?”

“Why are they looking at me?”

Seokjin craned his neck up, frustration evident on his face before looking at his younger members with a terrifying glare. “Why are you always here?”

“We were hungry-“

“And you ate. Now leave.”

“Is that how you treat your customers, hyung?” Jimin teased with a pout before looking at you innocently.

Wait, this was his?

“You’re not my customers because you all rarely pay!”

Chaos ensued as the men bickered and teased each other. You could see the familiarity and the love between them that came with years and years of companionship. You were unknowingly smiling before eating your late lunch. You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you actually ate. They were all still arguing, albeit without any claws to their words, when you felt a finger poking your arm.

“I’m Taehyung,” he introduced himself before offering you his hand. You shook his hand warily. “I’m Y/N.”

“So, Y/N, how did you know my hyung?” He asked, uncaring of the bickering of the men in front of him. He was more interested with who you were. His hyung never did once look at any woman, never once did he touch them. In fact, he was irritated whenever some woman would sauntered to him and flirted. Behind his hyung’s pleasant personality and contagious laugh lied his cold persona reserved for people who didn’t matter to him.

Which was exactly why you were a puzzle to the group. For the first time since they met him, they saw their hyung smiled so genuinely at a woman. For the first time, they saw the darkness that somehow terrified them in Jin’s eyes vanished.

“Oh uhm. We’re childhood friends. His parents and my dad were the best of friends.”

Were?

Yoongi, who hadn’t said a thing yet, tilted his head when he heard you. He looked at you with indifferent eyes before slyly shifting his bored gaze to his only hyung who visibly stiffened from your words.

Interesting.

You watched him as he took his pillow and RJ in his arms. Seokjin really looked comfy and yet, so beautiful despite wearing only his pajamas. “You know I can take the sofa. I don’t mind. I really don’t want to be an imposition on-“

“Nonsense, princess. I want you to be comfortable here. You’re my guest after all,” he turned to look at you before smiling. He walked towards the bed where you were sitting. He leaned down and softly placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Good night, my princess,” he whispered, and before you could even react, he was out of the room.

You opened your eyes, and you were back to that nightmare. You saw your father walking away from you to that damned lake. You felt your heart skipped a beat, your legs moving faster and faster to stop him.

You knew what would happened.

You had seen this before.

You had lived this before.

“Dad! Please. Stop!” You shouted on top of your lungs, but it was as though he didn’t hear you. He kept on walking and walking, until he was in the middle of the frozen lake. He paused his movement to look at you. He never aged. His looks frozen in time.

“Run, my daughter,” he said with a serious note in his voice. This was different. He never said this in all your nightmares. “Run far. And don’t come back.”

“What? Dad, please! Just come here!” You shouted, and now you felt tears falling freely on your face. You knew what would happened.

You knew his destiny.

And you could never do anything about it but to see him fall to the icy water.

“Y/N! Wake up.”

“Princess, please. Wake up. It’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

“Wake up.”

And then you woke up. Your breath were ragged as though you were running for your life. You could feel his fingers wiping away your tears. You were full-on sobbing in front of him. And before you knew it, his arms were around you as he maneuvered your body to rest on top of his chest. Your hand fisted his shirt, wanting anything to ground you. Your heart was beating faster despite escaping the nightmare, and for the life of you, you didn’t know why you still felt unsafe.

Soothingly, he was running his hand on your back. Seokjin was patient as he waited for you to calm down. You felt his lips on top of your head. You heard him whisper how you were safe with him and that he would never let anything bad happen to you ever again.

And that night, he didn’t let you go.

—

“My baby looks so handsome!” His mother cooed at the four-year old Seokjin. She fixed his hair gently before holding his tiny hand in hers. She followed her husband inside their closest friend’s home. His wife had just given birth a month ago and this was the first time they would see the little bundle of joy. She was so ecstatic when she learned that the baby was a girl, much to her son’s disgust.

‘Girls are yucky, mommy!’

“Do you wanna see her?”

Did he? He looked thoughtful for a moment, his adorable pout ever so present in his lips. Perhaps, he should see what the fuss was about. He was almost certain- no, he was 100% sure that he was more endearing than that little elf who did nothing but cried.

But fine, he supposed he should look at her one time, then never again.

With a reluctant nod, his mother patted the seat beside her. Once he was fully sat down, his mother lowered the baby to his level which allowed him to peak at the crying Y/N.

Seokjin’s eyes widened at how could someone as little as you cried so loud?

Additionally, how could someone as little as you looked so…wonderful?

As though he was in a trance, Jin moved his face closer to you. His little hand was on its way to caress your hair when he heard his mother gently warn him to be careful. And so, he did. His little hand touched the sparse hair on your small head. He caressed it once, twice, and to the adults’ surprised, you stopped wailing your heart out as thought you were finally at peace.

“She likes you,” your father observed, his eyebags made it apparent that you weren’t letting your parents sleep.

“I think we should keep him with her so she would stop crying, right Jinnie?” He teased the little child.

Jin, on other hand, didn’t say anything. His focus was solely on you. Little Seokjin deemed it okay to stay with you.

It was a sweet moment, really it was. Until Jin dove down to peck your lips, and then chaos ensued.

Hiraeth III