#until the other day they were all fighting like there’s no tomorrow… then BOOM!! suddenly they’re all at the hospital???? out of nowhere???

[kelin-is-writing]

So, enough time as passed, which is why let me say THAT!! Bnha’s chapter 424 was the most unsatisfying Bnha chapter I’ve ever read.

[dreaming-medium]

Language Barrier

Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count: 7K

Tags: fluff, first meeting, first kiss, strangers to lovers

Summary: When the power goes out while you’re in an ATM vestibule, you come to realize you’re stuck inside until the police come to open the door. But there’s one problem, you don’t speak a lick of Korean, and the man inside doesn’t seem to speak an ounce of English.

———

A/N: Please note that sentences that are Italicized are meant to be in Korean and sentences that are regular text are in English.

‘How are you?’ - English

‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ - Korean

—————————————————————————

Luck was not on your side today.

It’s not like you’re an unlucky person as a whole, no, that’s not it. Today was just one of those days that when you say ‘How could this get any worse?’, the universe takes it as a challenge.

Perhaps you should’ve just kept your mouth shut after you spilled coffee on your blouse this morning. But, you’ve always been such a ‘glass-half-full’ sort of person that you tried to take every inconvenience in stride. Everyone has their limit, though.

Before you came here on a business trip, you had heard about the Korean Monsoon season.

Everyone and their mother told you about how much it would pour, how it would feel like the skies suddenly opened up. But, you didn’t take anyone’s warning seriously. You would wave them off with a scoff.

“It’s just rain,” you thought. “How bad could it be?”

You’re eating those words now as you run through the streets in your nice, newly-soaked, professional heels. Your slacks are sticking to your legs, making the fabric ten times heavier. With your bag held over your head, you look around frantically for the bank.

It doesn’t help that it’s close to 10 PM and visibility is already horrible at this time. Yes, you should have gone earlier, but you were distracted!

Where is it? Where is it?

There!

You spot the glass doors and practically sprint up to them, grab the handle, and rip the door open.

A giant sigh of relief comes out of your lips as you step inside the tiny vestibule.

The only other man inside the place jumps a bit at your noise. He glances over his shoulder at you, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing at the ATM. You pay him no mind as you shake the rainwater off of your bag.

It’s after hours at the bank, meaning the only thing open and available is one ATM inside the room between the bank itself and the streets of Seoul.

Soft beeping comes from the ATM as the other man presses a few buttons. There’s an umbrella on the floor at his feet.

After brushing the water off your jacket, you bring your bag in front of you and start fishing out your card. Countless items inside your bag are now completely soaked.

Ugh, there goes all those business cards you collected at the meeting. Most of the ink is bleeding off the cardstock. Maybe, if you try really hard, you can make out the phone numbers on the cards.

Is that a 6 or an 8?

Or maybe the email addresses will be easier to understand. Surely, it just their names and their company’s–

There’s a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder at the same time the lights in the ATM vestibule flicker and go out completely.

You fight the yelp that bubbles in your throat. The man in front of you seems to lose the fight against his reactions and lets out a tiny yip.

His shoulders come up and he seems to bristle like a cat.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble, looking up at the lights. It was almost pitch black inside now, save for the tiny emergency lights that kick on on either side of the glowing Exit sign.

The man lets out a grumble and a sigh.

You look over and see that the ATM has completely shut off. Figures.

The storm must’ve triggered some sort of power outage. Great. Now you’ll have to find some other ATM.

Why, oh why, did the restaurant that your boss wanted to take you to tomorrow morning have to be cash only?

Whatever, there should be a bank a few blocks from here.

Your heels click on the tile as you make your way to the door. When you grab the handle and pull, it doesn’t budge.

There’s a beat.

You try again, really putting your back into it this time.

“Am I stupid or what?” you whisper to yourself, trying the other door and pulling equally as hard.

“They’re not going to open,” the man behind you says. “The fail-safe locks probably kicked in once the power went out. It’s a security measure.”

You turn around and look at him with a blank look on your face. “Oh, ah, um… s-sorry, no… no Korean.”

The man blinks at you. “You don’t speak Korean?”

You blink right back at him. “Um…” All you can do is shake your head with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you repeat.

Another series of blinks are exchanged.

“No… Korean?” he asks slowly. His English sounds so unsure.

You nod. “No… no Korean.”

A tiny, exasperated sigh comes from his lips and he looks around, as if anything inside this tiny little room would be able to help him communicate with you. Meanwhile, you turn back to the door and give it another sharp tug to no avail.

“No,” he says firmly, drawing your attention back to him. He motions down to the door handles and then shakes his head.

“No?” you repeat, a bit confused.

“No.”

Honestly, the primitive conversation between the two of you would be somewhat laughable if you didn’t feel frustrated beyond belief.

“Why?” you ask, becoming annoyed. Obviously, he knows something that you don’t.

The man blinks at you and shifts around nervously on his feet. His hands motion around as he tries to conjure up a sentence in English. “N… No. Closed?... Closed.” He nods, saying the word rather confidently.

Yes, you know the door is closed. But, why?

After a second, he sees that whatever he said evidently isn’t good enough, so he points back to the ATM, to the light that is now off due to no power, and then to the locks. You follow his pointing and the cogs in your brain start turning slowly.

“Fail-safe locks,” you state and then finally release the door handles.

“Fail… Fail-safe locks,” he repeats slowly. “Fail-safe locks.”

“Fail-safe locks?” you parrot his Korean back to him and he nods.

A small hum comes from your chest and you take a step back from the door finally. “How long do you think–” you cut yourself off when you look over at him. The man is staring at you, not following a word you’re saying.

Your hand comes up and you brush some wet hair off your forehead and then scratch the back of your head as a nervous tick. There’s no point in even asking the question, he won’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.

If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be a bit annoyed too. But at the same time, he’s already been kinder than most would be in this situation.

He’s locked in an ATM vestibule with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as him– in his own country. He’s been more than kind. Most people would just wave you off and forget trying to communicate at all.

But here he was, talking slowly and making sure you can understand what he’s saying. He’s going so far as to point around the room to make sure you understand.

The man notices you give up and he lets out a tiny sigh, turning to then peer out the glass doors at the streets of Seoul. There’s basically no one out there, everyone has taken shelter from the squall.

“We’ll have to wait until the police come to open the door.” He pats at his pockets, searching for his phone.

Even with how terrible your Korean is, you still pick up on a few words. “Police?” A beat. “Police?”

“Yes,” he answers in English, taking his phone out and tapping the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear. The man continues to look through the glass doors, watching all the different cars drive by, none of them police cars.

You decide to turn around, walking around the tiny room.

All of the lights are off except for the emergency lights. They cast a dull glow through the entirety of the vestibule. There's barely enough light to see from one side of the room to the other.

Rain starts hammering against the glass as the man speaks into his phone. “Yes, hi, hello. I am currently trapped with another woman inside the ATM vestibule of Metrobank Seoul… Namdaemunno… Yes, that one.”

Your ears perk up when he mentions the name of the bank and the address. Ah, he must have called the police. His face pulls into a slightly annoyed look, but he doesn’t speak with a hint of it through the phone, at least, not that you’re really able to tell.

The man says a few more words into the phone before he hangs up with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and then down his face in an exasperated fashion before turning to look at you. His mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it and he grimaces even more.

Your own features pull into a sympathetic expression and you look away, slightly embarrassed. Should you have learned more of the language before coming here? Absolutely. But at the same time, you didn’t have much time to prepare once you were told you had to travel here for business.

He shuffles from foot to foot and looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets and desperately trying to remember every English class he took in school.

“Police…” he says slowly, thinking through every word he wants to try and say. “Police are… busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yes. Busy. Busy with… car…” He brings both of his hands together and claps and then makes an explosion noise with his hands.

“A car accident?”

He snaps his fingers and points to you, as if you’re a team during a game of charades.

“Car accident,” he says in Korean.

“Car accident,” you repeat and he nods.

Despite the reality of the situation, you smile. The humor in all of this does not escape you. You decide to try and meet him halfway, even with your butchered pronunciation.

“Police… time… long?” Your head cocks to the side and you point to your watch. He shakes his head and shrugs in exaggerated movements.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. The accident was that bad, huh? No wonder the power went out then, the car must have smashed into electrical lines after that loud clap of thunder. This probably means all of the traffic lights and such are out too.

The police are most likely directing traffic and making sure no one gets injured; two idiots stranded in an ATM vestibule are the least of their concerns. Honestly, you can’t be in a safer place. Well, unless this guy is a murderer, but you haven’t gotten a harsh vibe yet.

You sigh and lean against the wall near the corner across from the ATM. Your body slides down to the floor and you stare straight ahead. It seems like you’re going to be in here for a while then.

The man takes one last look outside the doors before walking in your direction. He leans against the adjacent wall and takes a seat on the floor with you. His shoes almost touch the side of yours. It’s at this time that you let yourself take a moment to really look at him.

He has to be around your age; older than a college graduate but younger than someone settled into their career. Something that definitely doesn’t escape your attention is how… pretty he is. His skin is near perfect and so is his hair. Everything, down to the clothes he’s wearing, is absolutely flawless– and he’s only in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie!

Next to him, especially in your current drowned rat state, you probably look like something worse than a hot mess. You quickly comb your hair off your forehead once more and pull at your soaking wet clothes sticking to your skin.

The man’s lips purse for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, then promptly stops, opting for a grumble of frustration.

After a moment, an idea flickers through your mind and you hold up one finger to him to say ‘one moment’. You reach down into your pocket for your phone and take it out, tapping at a few screens and bringing up the Translate app.

‘What’s your name?’ you type into the phone and it immediately translates it into Korean below it. You turn your phone around and hold it up to him.

The man looks at you, then your phone, and his eyes light up. If you’re not mistaken, you even see a little bit of relief flash over his features. A tiny smirk pulls at one corner of his lips before he looks back at you.

“Minho,” he answers and motions to you.

“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, Minho.” You hold your hand out for a handshake.

Minho looks at your hand and his smirk gets wider before he grabs your hand and shakes it gently. The skin on his palm is so soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

After shaking his hand, you bring your phone back up to your face and type another sentence into the translate app.

‘I’m very sorry for not knowing Korean, I’m here on business.’

Minho looks at your phone, reading the statement before shaking his head and pulling out his own phone. He types away and then holds it up for you to read.

‘No need to apologize. With my line of work, my English should be better. It’s a very hard language to learn.’

A little laugh huffs from your nose and you nod and type.

‘Try learning Korean.’

Minho laughs with you and his smirk grows into a playful smile. Jesus Christ, this man is gorgeous. He looks down and taps a bit on his phone and then he holds it up to you. With the way his smirk pulls at his lips, it almost reminds you of a devious little cat.

‘I could tell you were a foreigner when you first came into the bank.’

Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, really?”

He’s chuckling when he brings his phone back to type more and then hold it up for you to read.

‘You don’t have an umbrella.’

Laughter leaves your lips when you read that and your head tilts back to rest against the wall. The wetness from your clothes is beginning to seep into your bones. Plus, the feeling of the fabric sticking to your skin is starting to become overstimulating.

But, you try and keep it together. You don’t really have another option at the moment.

You type a message back to Minho.

‘People tried to warn me about the Monsoon Season. As you can see, I didn’t listen.’

He reads your message and sucks his teeth with a smirk. Minho shakes his head and motions to the glass doors, as if to say ‘Look!’.

“I know, I know!” you laugh and look outside at the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. Puddles have turned into small ravines flowing down the sides of the road. Any car that passes by creates a huge splash as they pass through them.

Every once in a while, the sky will light up and thunder will follow it quickly.

Minho laughs with you. “Next time… you listen.” He nudges your leg with his foot.

You look over at him. “I will, trust me.”

A long look is shared between the two of you. There’s this tiny nagging feeling at the back of your mind, it’s that same feeling you get when you see someone in public that you swear you’ve seen before. Maybe he just has one of those faces?

No, you definitely haven’t met him before. You would remember if he was someone you shook hands with in the last few days. A man that gorgeous would never slip under your radar, you’re certain.

Minho stares back at you, eyes flitting about at your soaking wet hair matting to your skin. It looks like his one hand twitches for a moment and then he shifts in his seat.

Back to the app.

The two of you type away on your phones and hold them up at the same time with the exact same question on them.

‘What do you do for work?’

‘What do you do for work?’

Again, the two of you let out little huffs of laughter and he motions to you as if to tell you to go first.

So you do, you type down on your phone a little answer for him.

‘Right now, I’m only the assistant to a CEO for a huge company. Wherever he goes, I go. I write all his contracts; everything he does goes through me first. I’m more of an administrator than an assistant, though.’

Minho reads your answer carefully and then types out a small response with a tiny crease in between his brows.

‘Why do you say ‘right now’?’

A sad smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone to type out a response.

‘I studied hard and have a Mathematics degree. But no matter where I apply, they say I don’t have enough experience. Back in America, the job market is absolutely horrible. So, I’m stuck.’

Minho’s eyes scan through your message and a frown pulls at his lips. He looks back up at you, meeting your eyes and then back to your phone before he begins to type his own message.

Your silent communication warms your heart a little bit. The glow from his phone lights up his features and you study him carefully. His teeth poke out from his top lip– it’s absolutely adorable.

He seems to think for a long moment before his thumbs fly over his screen.

Rain is coming down in sheets outside the door, it’s the only other sound inside the room besides the light clicking of the haptics on his phone.

You reach back and once more run your fingers through your hair– it seems to be drying now, but not in a good way. The humidity of the rain is apparent in the way it's starting to frizz up.

Minho turns his phone around after a moment of typing.

‘I’ve heard about how hard it is to get a job in America, I’m very sorry it’s so unfair. For what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing wrong with the job you have now. Hard work is hard work no matter if it's an assistant or a scientist.’

His words strike a chord within your heart, they tug at your chest and at the corner of your lips which twitch into a wistful smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you say to him in Korean, looking directly into his eyes. Minho smiles back at you when he hears it.

“You are welcome,” he answers in English.

His smile seems so warm for a stranger. He looks at you as if you’re an old friend, not like a woman, still soaking wet from the rain, sitting on the floor with him inside an ATM vestibule. He’s so genuine.

After a few seconds of just looking at him, you bring your phone up to type once more.

‘Your turn. What do you do?’

Minho stares at your phone for a long time, seemingly reading the sentence over and over again. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth and he seems to weigh something in his mind.

His brown eyes flick to yours, then back to the phone, then back to you again before he looks down at his phone.

You never realized how much just body language alone can convey.

He types slower, his thumbs not moving as quickly as before. Why does he seem so apprehensive?

Eventually, he turns the phone around.

‘I’m an idol.’

“Oh,” you say softly. Your shoulders shrug a bit and you cock your head to the side. “Like a K-pop idol?”

Minho nods in response. “Stray Kids.”

The name rings a bell, it’s just one you’ve heard floating around for a few months now. You think one of your friends is into them, but you can’t remember. She’s into so many different groups, it’s hard to keep track anymore.

You type in your phone.

‘I’ve heard the name before. Weren’t you guys at the MET Gala?’

With a breathy chuckle, he nods. A smile spreads across your face.

‘Wow, I’m trapped in a room with a celebrity then. You know, people write stories like this.’

Your joke definitely lands because he snorts a huff of laughter as you type on your phone a little bit more after that.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t take pictures and post them all over Twitter or anything. This will just be a funny story for me to tell my friends when I get back home to America.’

“Thank you,” Minho says softly with genuine gratitude in his voice. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like being an idol. There probably wasn’t a single place he felt safe going to anymore. There are always cameras just waiting to take his picture.

‘When do you go back to America?’

‘In a few days. My boss loves to extend his business trips at the last minute. So, I could be here three more days or seven more days. It’s very hard to pack to come on these trips.’

A bittersweet expression settles on his handsome face.

You think for a long moment before typing away at your phone and showing it to him.

‘Have you ever been to New Jersey? That’s the state I’m from.’

Minho’s lips purse as he thinks for a long few moments. Very slowly, he nods, almost unsure. He types in his phone, then thinks for a moment, then types again.

‘I think we’ve been there twice. Is Newark in New Jersey?’

Excitedly, you nod. “Yes, that’s up in North Jersey!” You’re so excited that you forget to type down on your phone. “Oh!” you say with a laugh, looking back down at your phone.

‘Yes, that’s in the northern part of the state, about an hour or so from my hometown. I grew up in the central region, right on the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get to the beach from my house.’

Minho’s smile widens and he looks at you with a slightly envious look in his eyes. You giggle in response.

‘Two other members love the beach, but they’re from Australia.’

‘Australian beaches are probably not that different from American beaches. But I’ve never been to Australia. Have you?’

Minho nods and you see him close his translation app and switch over to his camera roll. His fingers quickly begin scrolling up through the countless amount of photos he has on his phone.

Not wanting to invade his privacy, you look away from his phone and out the doors in the vestibule once more. Not a single soul is walking– or running– along the sidewalks anymore.

Due to the power outage, there’s not even street lights illuminating in the puddles, it’s almost eerie looking. But, surprisingly, you don’t feel uneasy at all. Especially not with Minho sitting at your side.

Said man hums to get your attention, shuffling closer to you, and you look down at his phone. The picture is absolutely gorgeous.

It’s a photo of the beach, you’re assuming in Australia. The red sun is peeking above the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful wash of reds, pinks, and purples, all of the colors melting into one another. The clouds are wispy and glow in the morning sun.

The ocean seems so beautifully blue, even the foam at the crash of the waves is beautiful.

In front of the ocean is a gaggle of boys, it looks like there’s about seven of them. Each of them have bright, beautiful smiles on their faces reaching their eyes.

You’ve never been able to feel joy radiating from a photo like this, it seems to be contagious since you find a smile pulling at your own lips.

“This photo is beautiful,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of it.

Minho hums, maybe he understood what you said. His thumb moves and he scrolls to the next picture where two of the boys have taken one of the others by his legs and arms and seem to be pretending to toss him into the surf.

A soft giggle comes from your lips and you find yourself leaning towards him a bit to get a better look at the photo. Truly, you didn’t even notice your shoulders brushing against each other, and by his lack of reaction, it seems Minho didn’t either.

“Friends?” you ask him in your choppy Korean.

Minho looks over at you, his face closer to you than before. His eyes widen a bit at your proximity, but he doesn’t back up at all.

“Family,” he corrects you in his soft English.

An even warmer feeling spreads through your chest and you look back down at the photo. They must be his band members, but they just look so much closer than that. It reminds you of all of your friends back home.

Before you can even think twice, you’re opening your own camera roll, scrolling through an endless sea of memories before finding one specific morning you woke up to go watch the sunrise on the beach.

A tiny, awe-struck noise comes from Minho when he looks down at it.

“Sunrise,” you say and then think for a moment. You’re not sure of the Korean you want to say. “Favorite… time.”

He’s so patient when you speak, it absolutely melts your heart. There’s a different air about his softness with you too. He’s not treating you like a child just learning how to speak, no, he’s just being… nice. He’s being sweet and genuine and it speaks volumes about his character.

“Sunrise,” he says in Korean.

“Sunrise,” you repeat, looking up at him. His eyes were already trained on your face by the time you looked up. A tiny dusting of pink covers your cheeks. How long has he been looking at you?

A happy smile spreads over his lips, the edges curl up playfully. He nods. “Sunrise. Sunrise.”

“Sunrise.” Your voice says softly once more before looking back down at your phone.

Swiping through a few more pictures, you show him the boardwalk that runs down the beaches by your house. Everything from shops, to amusement park rides, to lemonade and ice cream stands litter the entirety of the shore.

He points down at the ferris wheel and shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.

“No?” you ask with a laugh. “Why not?”

“No… no high,” he shakes his head and motions his hands around to emphasize his point.

“Best picture,” you giggle holding your hand up in the air to emphasize the height aspect, then you’re swiping to the next picture taken from the top of the ferris wheel. This time, it was sunset. “Sunset.”

“Sunset.” A pause. “My… My… favorite time.”

A soft hum bubbles up in your throat. He loves sunset whereas you love sunrise. How cute.

“Sunset is beautiful,” you say slowly. Your eyes are still on your phone when you swipe to another photo.

“Beautiful,” Minho whispers softly.

Humming, you nod. “Yes, beautiful.”

A soft puff of air comes out of his nose and fans out over your cheek. When did he get this close? You look up at him and almost bump his nose with yours.

Minho’s head flinches back a bit at your sudden movement, but he makes no move to get further away from you.

He sighs softly, his eyes flitting all over your face, taking in every one of your features. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen, that pink blush making its way back to your face. You can’t even help the tiny, giddy giggle that bubbles in your throat. You look down shyly, biting your bottom lip.

Tender, gentle fingers lift your chin back up. Truly, you didn’t notice how cold your skin was until his warm touch spread on your skin.

Is this really happening?

A shiver races down your spine and a soft shudder comes out of your lips. Minho’s eyes look down at your lips and then down at your arm where goosebumps begin to raise.

He pulls away gently, making your brows furrow. Did you do something wrong? Maybe you misread his–

He’s shrugging off his hoodie.

Oh, he thinks you're cold.

Before you can even think to tell him you’re okay, he’s pulling your shoulder forward a bit so he can drape it over your back, bundling you up in such a pleasant, soft warmth. With small, fussy movements, he’s closing the hoodie around your body.

Perhaps you didn’t even notice how cold you were until you were suddenly surrounded in a warmth that can be compared to the fuzziest blanket you own. Not to mention the absolutely delightful scent that wafts upwards into your nose from the fabric.

It’s such a clean, cozy, calming scent. It’s like you buried your nose into the Mahogany Teakwood candle at Bath and Body Works.

Your eyes stay trained on his face while he bundles you up tightly. His hands gently grab your arms and rub up and down a few times to create even more warmth.

“Better,” he murmurs, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

How is it that a stranger has wormed himself into your heart like this? His tender gaze makes your soul feel calm, like those pictures of the morning surf under the sunrise.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to him. Your hands come up to grab at the hoodie, curling into the fabric.

Minho smiles back at you, you can see how his smile grows as he watches you relax into his clothing. There’s no space between your shoulders as you rest against adjacent walls, your two bodies have melted into the corner.

There’s a clap of thunder outside, but neither of you move. Your feet shuffle on the floor as you bring your knees closer to your chest. His legs adjust around yours, feeding them under your bent knees and tangling your limbs up further.

It’s so hard to break Minho’s eye contact, but you do it slowly, looking down at your phone and opening up the translate app once more. His soft breathing hits your cheek with every exhale.

‘You’re too nice to a stranger.’

Minho hums, almost in agreement. He picks up his phone and types back.

‘I’m usually not.’

You read the statement and then look at him, your head cocked to the side. Your brows furrow in confusion, but he types more before you can even ask another question.

‘I don’t know why I feel drawn to you.’

The text looks right back at you. Your heart flutters in your chest and you know that your cheeks get redder and redder by the second. Still, you can’t contain the giddy laugh that makes its way past your lips.

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and hide the smile, but it only makes Minho smile wider. His hand slowly comes up towards your cheek. Right before he’s able to make contact, he stops, hovering over your skin and gazing into your eyes.

A silent question is asked through his eyes. It’s a language that you don’t need any sort of app for. An answer is communicated right back.

Soft, tender warmth spreads over your cheek, radiating all throughout your body in the most gentle glow. His thumb caresses over your cheek bone, swiping gentle strokes back and forth.

You feel the same as him, that’s the strange part. There’s something so alluring about him that you just can’t put your finger on it. He’s pulling you in like a magnet and you don’t even want to fight against it.

There’s so many words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you know that each and every one of them would fall on deaf ears. Nothing that you can say in the moment would make sense to him.

Exhales are shared and mingled together in the minimal space between your faces,

“Beautiful,” he whispers for your ears only. Not like there’s anyone else to hear it except the ATM sitting dormant in the corner of the vestibule. Not even the mice in the walls would have been able to hear his murmur.

Love at first sight was something you always gawked and scoffed at. You always thought that it was such a Hallmark invention, that there was no way you would be able to just look at someone once and immediately fall head over heels for them.

But here you were, sitting on a dirty floor, feeling your heart beating faster and faster in your chest. Letting your face be cradled by a man you didn’t know two hours ago. By the man who patiently worked with you to communicate.

How is this even possible?

You can count on one hand the amount of things you know about one another.

Minho, who is a famous idol in Korea, who loves sunset and hates heights, who has the most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

Minho, who did whatever he could just to talk to you when he could have just as easily sat in silence on the other side of the vestibule.

His hand slowly drags down your cheek, each finger gliding down your skin towards your jawline to lift under your chin.

Another silent question passes through both of you in the one language you seem to both be fluent in.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and he hears you loud and clear.

Minho leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight touch. But, despite how soft the kiss is, heat spreads through your body in a grand wave, rushing through your fingertips and into your toes.

The first press is long and sweet, the two of you simply melting into the sensation of being locked together.

He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes gazing down at your lips before he swoops in again, this time his movements a bit quicker.

His hand returns to your cheek, guiding your head to tilt to the side to gain better access to your lips.

A soft sigh leaves your nose and your own hand travels up to grab at his shirt gently, just needing to hold onto him in any way possible.

Minho responds to your sigh, his lips moving a bit faster against yours. Both of your lips part and close, moving like mirror images of one another. Every few kisses, your noses brush against one another, but it doesn’t deter you from your actions at all.

Slowly, your hand travels from his shirt up to his neck, running up the side of his flushed skin. He feels feverish to the touch and it only spurs you on to keep moving. At the contact on his own body, Minho lets out a tiny grunt against your lips, his kisses stutter for a moment but he’s back to kissing you after just a moment.

Up, up, up, your hand travels over his moving jaw, to his cheek, then moving back to thread in his soft, brown trusses of hair. God, everything about him is just so perfect. It’s like you’re combing your fingers through the softest of cotton.

His kisses are getting deeper, little sighs come from both of your mouths as the passion continues on. Minho’s body turns towards yours a bit more, his knees canting up and almost forcing your legs onto his lap.

Tentatively, you feel his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking gently at your lower lip. You don’t even hesitate to give him access to your mouth. A gentle moan claws its way up your throat as his tongue licks into your mouth.

The hand on your cheek grips you a bit tighter, holding your face to his– as if you would want to try and move away from Minho and his addicting kisses.

“I just can’t help it,” he whispers in Korean against your spit, soaked lips before capturing them once more. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

All you catch is your name and it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t even need to know what else he said, his tone says it all. The way it comes out in a breathy exhale is enough to send your mind reeling.

“Please,” you murmur into his mouth before he presses his lips to yours once more with the same amount of passion and need in his actions.

More and more rain hits the glass doors, becoming the only sound that can be heard in the room except for your shared exhales, pants, and breathy moans.

Slowly, the kisses begin to calm down. Minho pulls away for a moment to take a long breath. His thumb moves to brush against your lower lip like a butterfly landing on a flower.

His eyes open just a crack, gazing down at your mouth with a hazy look in his eye. As he slowly catches his breath, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing along the heated skin on your face.

“Forgive me, I didn’t do things in order,” he whispers. “I should’ve taken you out first.”

Your eyes open and you look at him in confusion. “Hm?”

His jaw clenches before he swallows and he takes another long moment to look over your face, his features soft and welcoming.

There’s some movement as his other hand blindly pats around his lap for his phone. He can’t physically tear himself away from you long enough to even look down.

Another tiny laugh comes from your lips.

Your fingers move out of his hair to come around and gently run over his features, brushing against his jawline, to then trace up to his lips and up the length of his nose, memorizing each and every detail.

Minho melts into your touch, his face moving closer to your touch, seeking you out.

His hand finally finds his phone and he grabs it blindly, flipping it around in his lap and tearing his gaze away from your face to glance down at it.

Thumbs are flying across the screen to type at his translate app. He’s typing so quickly on his phone that you can't help but laugh a bit.

Before he’s able to turn the phone around, there are a few sharp knocks against the glass of the vestibule. The two of you practically jump out of your skin and your heads whip over to the doors.

Red and blue lights are flashing outside and it looks like two police officers are standing outside, peering in at you both. They wave when they see they’ve caught your attention.

Minho looks at the police officers, then to you, then back to the officers, and then back to you once more. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he tries to form a few words but you’re untangling your limbs from one another.

In a moment, you’re both on your feet as the officers work on unlocking the doors from the outside.

Minho gently grabs at your arm and you look down where he’s touching and your heart sinks a little. His eyes look a little questioning and desperate.

“Oh,” you say sadly. You shrug off his jacket, and hand it back to him. Minho’s eyebrows pull together and his lips part. He looks down at the jacket and then up at you.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Are you two alright?” The police officer calls inside in Korean.

“We’re okay,” Minho responds without breaking eye contact with you. He puts a hand on his jacket still dangling over your arm and pushes it back towards you.

“Minho?” you ask, looking at him and then at the officer approaching you both.

“We apologize for the delay, but we knew you two were safe, so we had to prioritize,” the officer says.

You blink at him blankly for a moment before then looking back at Minho.

“She’s a foreigner,” he says to the officer, finally looking away from you. “She doesn’t know Korean.”

“Ah,” the officer responds. “My apologies. You can tell her that she’s free to go.” He nods at the two of you and motions towards the door. You take his hint and slowly begin follow him.

Once again, Minho tugs on your arm and you pause, turning around to look at him. He’s holding his phone up to your face with a pleading look in his eye.

‘Can I please buy you a drink?’

A wide smile spreads across your cheeks and you can’t deny the relief that you feel inside your chest. The moment your lips twitch upwards, Minho immediately mirrors it.

“Yes,” you respond. “I love to go.”

He chuckles at your choppy Korean once more before taking his jacket out of your hands and wrapping you inside it once more. This time, he grabs the hood and pulls it up over your head.

With a satisfied hum, he nods and laces your fingers together.

“Come,” he says confidently.

“Lead way.”

[ramp-it-up]

The One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warmings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, running, a raging argument in an established relationship, name calling, taunting, drunken raging, Twitter. SMUT, explicit, rough sex, fingering, tit slapping, orgasm denial, spitting, oral sex (mostly female receiving). Also, I’m sleepy. 😴

A/N: Not proofread. Also, I know very little about Chris and Jenny, and have no real opinion about their relationship. I made up the scenario about what happened there for the purposes of the story. THANKS FOR 400 FOLLOWERS TONIGHT! 🥳🎉🎊🍾👏🏽🎈

This fic is based on the following ask:

Anonymous asked:

Imagine idea :

Chris is drunk after a fight with the reader. He was On Twitter and saw some pics with Jenny and when the reader comes in he screams at her and says that Jenny was the one and not the reader. The reader get sad because she was always kind of insecure about the age gap with Chris. The day after he didn’t know what he says and she don’t say anything because she got the feeling that he was right. But one thing both didn’t noticed that Chris was drunk calling Scott and he knows everything Chris says and drive to Chris to give him a good clamp ahahhaha Chris was drunk and Just mentioned her name because he saw a post with Jenny.

------------------

It had been the perfect day.

You slept in, then had a late brunch at home. 

You saw a message from Chris’ former co-star, Heidi, light up his phone that he’d plugged in on the kitchen counter when you two were tidying up.

You wondered why he was texting the bitch even after you told him that she wanted him. And after he agreed to cut off contact out of respect for you.

Heated, you didn’t even look around before you picked it up, put in his code and read a string of friendly, if not borderline flirty, texts.

Chris walked in the kitchen, caught you, and yelled at you for being in his phone. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“Exactly! What is going on, Chris. I thought we talked about this?” 

Chris rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big fucking deal.”

You threw his phone on the marble countertop, which caused Chris to pick it up to see if it was cracked. Your temper was too much.

“We’re just friends! She knows we’re together, y/n!” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“And I know women, Chris. That doesn’t fucking matter to her. Sometimes you’re so oblivious. Or act like you are.” You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“I know you want to leave me for someone more glamorous and beautiful. Someone who will put up with your shit, everyone the media says you’re fucking. Go ahead and just do it!”

Chris’s temper was really rising now. You could tell as the red creeped up his chest to his neck. 

“Stop fucking saying that!” Chris was screaming now. “Is that what you want? To end it? Because you don’t have to make me do it. If you want to leave, just leave.”

You said shit like that a lot. And it scared and angered him. He wanted to know if you were trying to make him break up with you so you would be free.

“Why are you being such a fucking…” Chris stopped himself. He knew better than to call you out of your name.

Your head almost spun around. You smiled evilly. 

“Go ahead, say what you wanna say, Chris. Or are you scared?”

Chris exploded. “A fucking BITCH.”  He was shaking because you went there.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not fucking anyone else!”

Chris lost it and punched the wall, making a hole in the drywall and definitely injuring his hand.

You just stood there with your mouth open and in silence. You went toward him to look at his hand, and he just put both of them up, backing away from you and going to the liquor cabinet.

He retreated to the deck with a bottle of Jameson’s. He wanted to dull the pain, in his hand, and in his heart. He hated when you hurt each other.

You understood that you both crossed the line, so you let him be. You went upstairs to change into your running clothes to get out and clear your head.

Chris settled on a deck lounger, started drinking from the bottle and got online, which is never a good thing, but he needed something to distract him. He started reading tweets about himself, and following a thread of Chris + Jenny stans.

The more he drank, the more he started reminiscing.

There were good times. He was happy. Mostly. He thought she was the one. Sometimes. But she broke his heart. He was just a rebound. 

Her handsome arm candy.

Then he thought of you. His heart melted; you really loved him. He was sure of it. But loving him was hard. He realized that you felt the same way about him that he felt about Jenny. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Insecure. 

And you had good reason to be. Everything you’d said about women coming after him was true. But what you didn’t realize is that since he’d met you other women didn’t matter to him. 

You were the one, not Jenny.

Chris began to get melancholy. He’d fucked up. You were nothing but good to him and you just asked him to respect you and listen to your feelings. He’d ignored that. 

Shit, why did he yell at you like that?  

He went to erase Heidi’s contact and block her number. He was confident that you were never going to throw him away like Jenny did. She was the one who’d hurt him. Not you. Never you. He recognized that you wouldn’t ever hurt him on purpose.

His mind was racing with how to apologize when you came back. He was an idiot. The pain in his heart was replaced with regret and his hand had slowed to a dull throb.

But then 30 minutes turned to 3 hours, and by the time you got back, the bottle was empty and Chris’s eyes were red with rage and worry. 

Maybe you were just like Jenny after all.

--------

You ran, and then went to get some coffee. You ran into Shelby at the cafe and distracted yourself with mindless chatter, then walked back. You were ready to apologize by the time you opened the door.

When he heard the door, Chris picked up his phone and met you in the living room. He was obviously shitfaced.

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!?” 

Chris’s voice boomed throughout the house and you jumped. Then you just stood there, shocked at his outburst. 

“The hell are you talking to me like that?” 

He was unsteady on his feet. He leaned toward you, and you could tell that someone was spinning the room for him.

“I don’t want it to be you!” 

He had to let you know that he knew that you wouldn’t be the one to hurt him. Chris pointed his phone at you. 

“You’re not the one. Jenny’s the only one. Not you! Not ever you!”

You couldn’t believe your ears. But then again you could. It was what you were afraid of. You were head over heels. And Chris could find someone on his level. Like Jenny.

“Well, Fuck You very much, Chris.” 

You brushed your tears away and ran past him up the stairs to the bedroom, locking the door and crying your eyes out. You got out your suitcase.

----

Chris started up after you, calling your name, and then suddenly needed to duck in the downstairs bathroom to throw up. 

He tried to make it up the stairs and had to sit down on the floor near the bottom. Then, he needed to lay down just for a minute.

The next thing Chris knew, it was morning, and he woke up to a pounding on the door and in his head. He rolled over on the floor, and something stabbed him in the side.

Groaning, he reached down and saw your keys to his house, his cars, and his life, all on the Tiffany heart keychain he’d given them to you. He was staring at them, confused, when Scott opened the door with his key.

“There he is. My brother. The fuck up.”

Chris groaned again, sat up on the bottom stair and held his head. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nevermind me. It’s not often I get to say that, only when you publish your dick pic to the internet or you RUN OFF THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO YOU!”

Chris winced when Scott yelled, his head a pounding mass of meat wrapped in fuzzy cotton. 

He didn’t understand why he was being tortured and he didn’t understand why his hand hurt.  He looked at it, all bruised up, and the keys inside it.

“Just tell me, Scott. Why are you here?”

Scott leaned up against the door. 

“Did you know you drunk dialed me last night?” 

Chris looked up at Scott, and his face was a sight as his brother told him what he’d said to you.

“Fuuuuuck me!” He put his head in his hands again. 

“I don’t know if she ever will again,” Scott joked, but Chris didn’t laugh. 

“I called her after you apparently passed out and wouldn't pick up your phone.  She was ready to catch an early morning flight, but I convinced her to sleep in today and leave tomorrow.”

Chris moved his hands down from his eyes and stared out the patio doors, trying to think.

“I put her up in the Four Seasons, on your dime of course.  Room 6145. Penthouse. Could be pretty romantic. If she were in that kind of mood.”

Chris looked up at Scott, smiled weakly, jumped up and hugged him, then made for the door. Scott jumped in front of him.

“Trust me, you’ll want to get some water and coffee in you, and shower and brush your teeth. You look and smell like shit.”

“Right.” Chris nodded, flexing his hand. He could still move it. He was glad it wasn’t broken. “Thanks, bro.”

“No problem.” Scott walked into the bathroom as Chris went to the kitchen, groaning when he saw the hole in the wall. He’d have to ask Scott to get it fixed before you saw it again. 

If he could convince you to come back.

----

It was 11 am, and Scott had verified that you were still in the room. Chris just stood there, nervous and terrified that you were just going to be done with him.

Room service came and headed toward your door. Chris waved them down and when they saw his face, they stopped in their tracks, shocked.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

----

You climbed out of the wonderful deep jetted tub, having soaked until the water got cold and your fingers were wrinkled. You pulled on the plush Four Seasons terry cloth robe that was provided with the suite.

You felt calmer than last night, and after some sleep and relaxation, you realized that you’d been a fool to think that Chris would want you forever like you thought.

It was for the best that you leave and start over, to focus on your consulting business and yourself for a while.

You opened the door with a smile on your face for the attendant, and you let them into the room, your back turned to the door while they brought the cart in. You turned back around and there was Chris.

You grew heated, and your heart began to race while the attendant scurried out. Chris’s face was a welcome sight, but you were still angry.

There you were, looking so beautiful, curls tied up in your favorite silk scarf, cocoa skin radiant in a white fluffy robe.  You should have been comfortable, but your eyes were wide and scared.

He’d done this to you.

“Fuck, y/n… I…”

You interrupted him. 

“You’ve got some mutha fuckin nerve. How dare you just run up in here, using that fucking face,” you flung your hand up, “using who you are to get into my room. How did you even know where…?”  

Your mouth dropped open at the realization of what Scott had done. You turned on your heel to get your things. You didn’t care that you were naked under your robe. You didn’t care that you still loved Chris. You were out. This second.

Chris moved to block you from entering the bedroom of the suite. You tried to push past him, all 5’ 4” of you versus 6 feet of him.

“Move, Chris!” 

You glared up at him, your body responding to him in ways you weren’t prepared to admit. You were betrayed by your pussy.

“I just want you to listen to me.  Then you can leave, stay, do whatever you want. Just hear me out.”

You and him physically was always the shit. His arms across his chest did things to you  But you kept mean mugging him, making him hard for you. 

You stepped back and said, “Okay.  You have 10 minutes.  Then I’m out, Chris.”

You paced back to the couch in the living room of the suite, watching him warily.

Chris paced in front of you, making it inevitable that you follow his lean form back and forth across the carpet. You noticed that his hand was bandaged and that he kept flexing it. 

You hoped it wasn’t broken. No matter what, you cared what happened to him. You would always love him. Even if it was the end of your relationship.

“First of all, I’m sorry. My anger got the best of me, and I was violent and that is never acceptable.  Even though I didn’t touch you, it’s not ok, and I know it was intimidating. I take responsibility.”

He stopped and looked at you, you melted a little, but you didn’t give any outward sign. Being a business owner taught you a mean poker face. 

But the shirt he was wearing made his true blue eyes pop and you could see a hint of his chain around his neck under the fitted henley.

You suppressed a shiver at the memory of the things you did to have that chain and medallion wave in your face, to have it clenched between your teeth as Chris had his way with you, and you with him.

You focused on him, pointedly looking at your watch. Chris’ anxiety peaked when he saw that.

He stepped toward you and thought that he recognized the look in your eyes.  He was almost sure that you still wanted him, sure that you still cared.  He could only hope as he came closer.

“And then I started drinking. And while you were gone, I came across some posts about me and Jenny. And it took me back there.”

At those words, you crossed your arms and averted your eyes, defenses up. You didn’t want to hear about how much he loved Jenny.

Then, Chris swiftly moved to sit on his haunches, becoming eye level with you.  

“And I realized that she never really loved me. Not like you loved me.”  

Chris speaking about your love in the past tense made you a little angry and you stared him in the eyes. 

It was just the reaction he hoped for. Your attitude. He loved it. He hid a smirk so that he could continue, but you saw the glimmer in his eyes. And you rolled yours.

Chris then picked up the sash to your robe and started playing with it, your eyes drawn to his thick fingers. You didn’t know why that was getting you hot, but it was. You opened your mouth to breathe.

Chris’s voice cracked when he said. “And to me she was the mountaintop. Another, different kind of conquest. But I realized that I never really loved her. Not like I love you.”

Present tense.

Now you were looking into his eyes, about to fall into them. Shit. He had you hooked. But then you remembered, and drew back.

“Yeah, I know what I said, but what I was trying to express was that I know it could never be you to hurt me like Jenny did. That I didn’t want you to hurt me like she did. Not when I’ve thought about forever…” 

He moved even closer. “I mean forever, forever, with you.”

All of a sudden you couldn’t breathe. Chris got on his knees.

“I want to be in this position again with you one day. One day soon. But not like this. I don’t want it to be to try to get you back. I want us to be good.” 

He sighed, pensive. “I want you to be smiling and happy, and even have our families there.”

You don’t know how your face looked at that moment, but Chris started smiling at you. You were so beautiful to him right now.

“I was drunk, and I couldn’t use my words correctly. I yelled and I screamed and I punched the wall. I fucked up and may have lost you forever, but I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

You felt yourself get emotional, but you tried to calm down.

“I’m just so fucking scared that you will get tired of all the bullshit that comes with me and leave… and I absolutely wouldn’t blame you. But there’s no one else, y/n.  No one else can compare…”

“Chris…” 

You raised your hand to his face, eyes searching his. You could tell he was being honest.

Chris grabbed your hand and started kissing your palm.

“So.” He looked at you with those eyes. “Is this goodbye?…” His lips were giving you shivers. “Or hello again? Can we start over?”

Chris trailed his lips from your palm, to the pulse point at your wrists and lingered there, licking the delicate skin. Then he moved up your arm to the opening in the robe. 

He pushed his torso in between your legs and leaned into your neck, inhaling the lavender bath oil that was your favorite. And his, too. 

He moaned as you leaned your head to the side, giving him access. But he didn't just want the physical. He breathed into the shell of your ear. 

“Please come home, baby…”

You just moaned as he started sucking right below your ear, your spot. Desire took over for Chris when he heard your sounds.

“Fuck it. I can tell that you still want me. If this is goodbye, then I’m going to make it worth your time.”

Your back arched and Chris palmed your bounteous ass over the robe, pulling you flush to his crotch.  He smiled as he felt the warmth coming from you.

“You’re so fucking warm, babe. Are you wet, too?  Are you wet for me? Do you want my cock? I mean, do you want your thick, fat, cock to fuck you babe?” 

Chris was kissing down your neck into the cleavage that the robe was revealing with each sentence as you opened your legs. Your pussy was quivering for him, but you still didn’t answer him.

Chris looked up at you with those eyes and pulled on the robe sash. It fell open and he looked down and bit his lip, taking in your warm skin, lovely breasts, and elegant pussy, with the manicured triangle of hair kept like he preferred, and offered up for his taking. 

You still looked like his girl, and he smiled as he looked up into your eyes. But he had to be certain. He lowered his head, keeping eye contact and descended toward one small hard mountain peak, kissing it gently, tentatively, while watching you.

You were mesmerized as his tongue peeked out and licked it, then he opened his lips and enveloped it, moistening it with his pink lips. 

The look on your face compelled him, and he fully enveloped your nipple and started sucking roughly, still keeping eye contact. You were determined not to close your eyes, but it was difficult. You bit your lip to stay still.

Chris’s bandaged hand was dangerous, however, and it came up to pinch and roll your other nipple. You arched into his hand as he became rougher and rougher. 

He switched nipples and hands and his saliva made your breast that much more pliable and sensitive. He slapped it, and then rubbed it with the rough bandage, making you cry out and moan as his other hand trailed down your body to your cunt.

“This pussy will still be mine, even if you leave me.” He smiled cockily while looking down on it. 

He looked at you, before lifting his hand to his mouth, looking straight into your eyes and spitting on his fingers before bringing them down to your cunt.

“I think, that if even if you leave and  move back to Houston, and I come to town, that if I I call you, even if you’re with someone else, you would meet me in a parking lot and let me fuck you over the hood of my rental car.” 

He was faintly tracing your pussy lips and instantly your control was gone. You were sopping wet, because of his words and because of the knowledge that what he was saying was the truth.

“Oh,” was all you could say. You were adding to the wetness of the saliva on his fingers.

Chris smiled and tilted his head as his two thick digits breached your opening. He had his answer as you threw your head back and let him finger fuck you while he rolled and slapped and pinched your nipple.

His thumb was lightly brushing your clit and you wanted so much more.  Chris could sense that and he pressed down roughly on it, causing an electric jolt up your body, which you keened for, arching your body into his hand.

Chris moved his hand from your breast to your neck and applied the pressure that you wanted and needed and that he was expert at while he stuffed another finger inside you and circled your clit with his thumb. 

You floated among the clouds as you came like fireworks, and all over his hand.  

He watched you come undone, and come down, rubbing his hard cock through his pants with one hand while he sucked your juices off his fingers, releasing each with a loud pop.  When you opened your eyes, you smiled.

You pulled his hand and started licking yourself off him, flattening your tongue against his palm. 

“I forgive you Chris. I forgave you when you conned your way into my room, you ass.” 

You smiled against his hand as he groaned, relieved and desperate for you.

“But you still have some work to do.”

“What do you want? Anything.”  

Now Chris was breathless, anticipating payback.

“First, you need to take those damn clothes off.”

He quickly moved to take off his shirt, and then stood up to take off his pants.  You smirked as hs cock sprang up immediately when he peeled them down. He wasn’t wearing underwear.

Chris caught your look. 

“What? I wanted to be prepared.”  He chuckled softly while pumping his cock lightly, expecting to immediately fuck you.

He moved toward you. But you quickly moved off the couch and into the bedroom, forcing him to follow you, and his dick, into the other room.

You sat on the edge of the bed as he remained standing. 

“What do you need, babe?”

You reached for his cock and tugged it toward you, opening your mouth and deep throating it, wetting it from root to tip and then spit on it. Chris moaned as you started to stroke. Then you stopped.

“I need you to jack off for me.” 

“Ugh! You’re so fucking nasty. I love you.”

Chris instantly started where you left off. This didn’t seem like work.

You leaned back on your elbows, watching him, and licking your lips.

“And I need for you not to stop, and not to come. Until I tell you.” 

You looked him in the eye and that was when Chris knew he was doomed.  A chill ran down his spine as you reached down and started playing with your pussy.

“Fuck!”

You looked so damn good.  He licked his lips and stroked harder and faster, his balls drawing up already. 

“Shit, y/n.”

You watched his eyes, and got wetter at his blown pupils and glazed look. 

“You like that?”

“Fuck yeah.”  

His voice was broken and desperate. He fisted his cock, and held his balls, trying to stave off the inevitable. 

You turned around, got on your knees and reached back between your legs and ran your fingers up and down your slit.

“How about that?”

“Goddamnit!” 

Chris grunted as he tried to hold it in. You were a goddess. He licked his lips. Wanting to taste you. So he did. 

He dove in, tongue competing with your fingers to command your slit. You finally gave in to his expert mouth and he savored your salty goodness.

“Fuck, Chris, you better still be…”

“I am. Christ.” 

He was leaking in his hand, but he had it under control. Barely.

Chris stopped eating you out for a second, grabbed your ass cheek with one hand, stretched you open, spit on your tighter hole, and watched it slide down your satin lips to drip onto the bed. 

His warm saliva made your pussy quiver and he watched it lovingly. Then he dove in again.

He sped up his movements with his other hand and you could hear the smooth skin of his dick sliding on his palm while his tongue did forbidden things to you.

“Ffffffuuckkkkkkk! Chrisssss.” 

You came, burying your scream in the mattress, and even harder than before. You couldn’t believe that he’d turned the tables on you.

Chris ate you out through your orgasm, holding you down with one hand like it was nothing. 

He was god of war, love, and sex, all at once. 

Fuck Captain America.

You came again, almost immediately.

When he was done with his meal, he let you go, wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand and stepped back.

“Fuck, what do you want me to do? I can’t take it much longer…” Chris’s sexy growling voice got to you. 

“What do you wanna do, Chris? How do you want to take me, Daddy?”  Chris’s cock jumped in his hand, he slapped your ass, and watched it jiggle.

Chris entered your wet, wet pussy, and marvel how if felt like it was choking the life out of him.  He had to stop moving, or he would burst almost immediately.

“How the fuck are you so wet, but so tight.  It’s like a fucking vice grip, geeze.” 

You both waited and felt it jump inside you, then Chris reached down, grabbed you by the neck and pulled you upright and flush to his chest.  

One hand clutched your throat and the other arm hooked under your leg, allowing him to piston up into you upright while your other leg dangled, your big toe barely touching the ground.

Chris held you and fucked up into you, grunting each time the large mushroom cap head of his cock was stuffed into your pussy. 

“Ugh, gatdamn it, you were thinking of leaving, ugh, you wanted to leave this, mmmmmm, this dick that, ugh, that fucks you like this?” 

Chris’s mouth was near your ear, which was on his shoulder because your head had fallen back on his chest. He was using you like a sex toy as he fucked you senseless. 

His dick slicked in and out of you with obscene wetness, Chris somehow lifting you up and slipping completely out of you and pounding back into you with force.

“Chris!!!” 

You started shaking, your center of gravity being where you and he were connected.

He fucked you even harder and faster, chasing his release, but he maneuvered his hand to find your clit, refusing to come before you. 

“Fuck! You know you were going to miss this cock that your sweet cunt fits… like…  a …mutha …fuckin…  glove!” 

"Ahhhh!" 

You screamed as you fluttered around his cock. He could take only so much before he had to shut his eyes and bite down on your collarbone. Chris’s legs were trembling now.

"Take all of it!." He was hitting your spot.  "How does it feel?" 

Although the feeling was intense, you tried to speak. 

"L-l-l-like h-heav-v-v-ennnnn." 

The sound of your voice made his release start to build. 

With each of his thrusts, the sweet tightness began to build until you came, screaming and moaning in pleasure.

“Oh shiiiiitttttt!”  Chris exploded inside your tight wet cunt. He wanted to fill you up like never before. He wanted to put his baby in you and tie you forever to him. That made his balls empty.

He fell back on the bed, with you on top of him, slipping out of you and depositing you on the bed beside him.

Chris couldn't help but smile as you both came down.  He was made for this.

Chris put his hand on your cheek, brushing your beautiful lips with his thumb. You smiled under his attention into his sea blue eyes.

“I love you.” You grinned. 

“God, I love you.”  You sobered up, taking in the weight of his words.

“Is it weird that I want to get you pregnant before we’re married?”

You made a face.

“Who says I want to marry you?”

Chris scooped you in his arms and rolled you over on top of him.

“You don’t want to marry me? You’d say no if I asked?” 

You held in a giggle.

“Nah. I’m gonna move back to Houston and marry someone else so you can come in town and fuck me over the hood of your rental car. That sounds hot as fuck.”

Chris released an anxious breath.

You took his head in your hands.

“Easy now. Ask what you want to ask.” Chris started to speak. You put your finger over his mouth.  

“When you want to ask it.” You looked into his eyes again. “I won’t break your heart.”

Chris smiled at you and said, “I know.” He kissed you. 

And when you pulled away, breathless, he told you, “You’re the One.”

----------- Read Part Two: It Takes Two

Let me know what you think. Like, comment, reblog! Tags:

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @sillyteecup @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @lonelydance @chattykathysquietsister @anh1020 @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jbrizzywrites @stilltoyou  @donutloverxo @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @kiwisa @food8me @aiikaa @marvelfansworld  @london-grunge @pheebsyells @thesecretlifeofdaydreams-bl-blog @douxtille @ximaginexx @jdmacca92 @fofisstilinski @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @bit-of-a-timelord @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @karolsboo @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @sickknik @photmath @whorekneebrain  @anacrcarvalho @iconicshit @spicybibimbap @chaoticsteverogers@txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @ikatieebabyy@nerdymugsharkempath @maroonsunrise83

[wonlouvre]

helllo~~ I just saw that you opened your drabble requests again and I would like to ask if you could write a drabble with Joshua Hong where he and the reader both had a hard day and get into a little fight during dinner but at the end they end up apologizing and cuddling on the couch?🥺 thank you a lot in advance and have a wonderful day!!

peckish | h. js.

pairing: non-idol!joshua x g.n. reader genre: a little bit of angst (they argue), fluff warnings: mentions of food, eating, nitpicking and nagging word count: 1k+

💌: thank you for requesting anon! :’) as usual, i made some changes here and there if you don’t mind. i hope you like it anon! pls tell me what you think about it <3

You and Joshua decided to move in together during the second year of your relationship. The memory of you discussing that particular stage of your relationship is still fresh in your memories. Funnily enough, moving in together was more about being practical rather than being romantic. Your apartment was both far from your job and him. It’s not that you wouldn’t go the distance for your boyfriend, but the frequent two hour travels are tiring and the cost of living is still getting more and more expensive as the days go by. 

If your memories serve you right, it was around two months later when the two of you found the perfect unit. It was awkward and annoying during the first few months. You two were navigating through the ups and downs of living together 24/7. You both have the tendency to nitpick and nag over the smallest of things incessantly. Once one of you starts, the other follows and it’s not cute. 

But along the way, the two of you got the hang of it. Not for the sake of just coexisting but you two reached a compromise without hurting or disregarding each other’s feelings. You talked through it and respected each other’s concerns, complaints, wants and needs.

And now, there’s only about a week left and you’d be celebrating five years as a couple and  three years of living together.  

Petty arguments still happened and are still happening occasionally, but you guys do your very best to not let it get the best of you. And speaking of arguments, on this one particular tiring day, another one is budding.

“I told you not to put tomatoes,” you complain under your breath while poking your fork on the meal your dearest boyfriend cooked for dinner. “I’ve told you this countless times before and until now. Do you even listen to what I say?”

Joshua continues to eat, completely unbothered. “And I told you before to put your socks on the hamper after every use and yet we’re still here. Who’s not listening now?”

The tomato is red which is very similar to how you’re registering the dining table now. Blood is even rushing to your face and you can feel the heat. Your grip on the fork loosens and you drop it on the plate, a loud clunk booming across the quiet room. 

“Are you serious? You're doing this to me over socks?” You question and glare at Joshua’s  handsome face. 

Joshua also stops eating and picks up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his lips clean. “Y/N, you’ve never complained about the tomatoes I put on our meals because you know it’s part of the recipes. Why are you suddenly whining about them?”

You are so irritated, you can hear your heart pounding on your chest. Tears are starting to line your eyes and you could cry anytime now. You get like this when you’re having a bad day. Work and the people you work with have not been the kindest today and you were hoping a nice warm meal with your boyfriend could help ease your stress and anger. 

“I’m complaining about them because I don’t like them and I’m awfully tired and just want to eat something,” you say before standing up. 

You don’t want Joshua to see you crying over this because you yourself find this embarrassing and unnecessary to argue about. Who knows? Maybe Joshua is also having a bad day and seeing the socks you forgot to remove from your shoes must have ruined his day further. 

“Y/N,” your boyfriend calls for you, his voice tired but still gentle. “Where are you going? You haven’t finished eating.”

“I’m not that hungry anymore,” you say and finally walk off to your shared bedroom.

You know you should have put those socks on the hamper. You had every intention to do so. It’s just that you were in desperate need to shower the day away and take a short nap before your boyfriend comes back home and have dinner with him. You always listen to Joshua and his reminders and you know he’s no different. You just thought he wouldn’t see or at least he could have let it pass just this one time.

But then again, no matter how many excuses and rebuttals the two of you make, it was still wrong for you and him to take your anger out on each other. 

The moment you left Joshua alone at the dining table, regret immediately started to eat you up. It felt terrible, you could feel it in your stomach grumbling and heart clenching. You take a breather and wash your frustrations away. After not more than fifteen minutes later, you silently and carefully tread back to the kitchen, where your boyfriend is washing the dishes alone. 

You did not hesitate to walk closer to him and circle your arms around his waist. Joshua jumps a little, surprised by your touch but doesn’t move away and just continues with what he was doing. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, words muffled because your face is snuggled to his back. “I’ll put my socks on the hamper next time.”

You know Joshua’s silently smiling and laughing with how he’s upper body is shaking. Just right then, the water stops from running and he’s turning around to face you. You keep your arms on his waist and lean your chin up to his chest, where you can feel his heartbeat. He’s smiling at you when he leans down to kiss your forehead, long and sweet. 

“Let me wash up so that we can go to bed. How’s that sound?” Joshua offers and you can never be more than happy. 

Your bedroom and bed is the best place in this apartment (Joshua thinks it’s the kitchen but you’re not having it at the moment). It’s warm and cozy. It’s even warmer and cozier when your boyfriend is with you on it. You’re so blessed and grateful to always begin and end the day with him.

“I’m sorry about the tomatoes,” Joshua says against the top of your head and  tugs you closer to his chest. “I’ll try to be discreet about adding them next time I cook.”

You can’t help but giggle, nuzzling your nose to his warm chest. “It’s okay. I’ll just set them aside or give them to you.”

“Bad day, huh?” 

“Yeah. You too?”

“Yup.”

“I’m sorry baby,” you apologize again and kiss the side of his neck. “I’ll cook you breakfast tomorrow.”

“Stop apologizing.” Joshua jokingly glares, but fails anyway because his eyes just sparkle all the time. He kisses your forehead for the nth time in return. “I want pancakes please.”

“Noted.” You keep his request in mind right at the moment you start to yawn.

“I love you always,” Joshua says wholeheartedly.

“I love you always,” you also say, wholeheartedly.

[moeruhoshi]

I've been watching anime all day so here's a late nalu day gift

Lucy slammed her bedroom door and flopped down on her bed with a weary sigh, weeping into her pillow as her day finally came to an end.

The open door of her patio allowed her to hear the neighing of carriage horses taking away her most recent suitor, a man who barely knew what the meaning of personal space was.

Just how many princes and dukes had to waltz through their gates before the princess’ father realized that they had no interest in adequately courting her? It was painfully obvious how the lot of them were only interested in her well-displayed décolletage over her personality and spent more time schmoozing up to the king instead of trying to win her favor.

What hurt, even more, was knowing that she could never be with the one who was truly meant for her.

She stared at the red string tied to her pinky, the fiber ending far off in the distance where it connected to her destined partner. It calmed her in some ways, allowed her to feel a sense of clarity, knowing there was at least one more person out there who could give her the true love she craved.

She hoped every day, when Spetto called her down to meet another suitor, that it would be him, the one on the other end of her string, waiting to hold her as she wanted to hold him.

They could instead be a peasant, she thought as her hopes for him to visit one day were beginning to fade. Not that she cared about that kind of thing, but it meant that they didn't have the means to enter the castle easily. Or maybe they were somewhere in a neighboring country, too far away to find her. Maybe he hadn't been gifted the power to see the string and didn't know she was waiting for him but felt just as empty without her by his side.

She was sure if she voiced her knowledge of the red string to anyone else, they would call doctors from all over Earthland to analyze her cognitive function. 

But she desperately wanted to tell everyone that she had no intention of selecting a suitor through their gaudy traditions. She would instead venture out into the world to find her soulmate, the person at the end of her red string of fate. But knowing her father, he would only let her marry with the promise of the expanded wealth she would gain him from a political marriage.

"Miss? Are you still awake?" Spetto knocked lightly, the princess holding in her sniffles to hear what the maid had to say. "I'm sure you are…but I won't bother you. Your father wants you to know that he'll be inviting the Duke Cream from Veronica for another visit tomorrow. He's eager to correct his…insolent behavior from the last time he saw you."

The princess didn't bother answering and instead let out a frustrated sigh as the sound of her maid's footsteps echoed down the hall. The setting sun illuminated the crimson strand and her fingers loosely wrapped around it, her weak pout quivering as she tugged on the phantom satin.

"I'd rather have you, whoever you are..."

~000~

"The princess!" Spetto screamed as she ran into the King's throne room. Jude was sat upon his seat with the Duke at his side, their conversation halting at her interruption. "She's gone!"

"What in the world do you mean, woman? I'm sure that no good daughter of mine has just buried her nose in one of those god awful fairy tales again. Have the guards search the library for her," He gruffed, rolling his eyes as her demeanor became more hysterical and shaken.

"I have, your highness! The princess has run away, she's truly nowhere to be found!"

"And just when I was about to be introduced to my bride," The Duke frowned and tossed his bleached hair aside. "Send hounds after her, why don't you? I will not let this girl make a fool of me on this glorious day."

"Go on, then," The King glared at his guards standing nearby who quickly rushed out the door. "I should have known that girl would be trouble. Her mother had always filled her head with nothing but pure nonsense."

Lucy lifted her billowy skirt as she ran through the woods, deep within its darkness, trying her best to ignore the now wailing trumpets of distress audible in the distance. She knew it wouldn't have been long until someone noticed her absence, especially after having heard the reality behind Duke Cream’s visit.

It was by chance, an incident that occurred while she was passing her father's office the night before. Lucy heard the plans he made to arrange her marriage to the Duke, ensuring that their kingdom would absorb the principality. This meant her father would have an entire stronghold on the country of Fiore.

A life with that obnoxious and narcissistic Duke was not one she wanted, nor could even stand the thought of.

So, in a panic, she made plans to run away, leaving when the guards wouldn’t be around, going as far as she could go without any clear signs of which direction she'd taken off in. She persevered through her tiredness with the lone thought of her meeting her soulmate who was sure to greet her with a wide smile and open arms.

"This way! C'mon now, you'll never make it running without anywhere in mind!" A voice tinkled through the line of trees, halting the princess in her place as she breathed harshly and darted around scared eyes.

"Who's there! I-I'm not going back to the castle!" Lucy shouted as she turned about in circles, shrieking as a short blonde girl suddenly appearing from thin air

"Did I say I was trying to take you home? No! Now hurry it up! You'll never make it there if you make stops like this, follow me!" She instructed, turning toward the trees and beginning to run.

"Who are you?" Lucy asked between pants as she followed the shorter blonde, mesmerized by the trail of sparkles she left behind her, and the cute wings peeking out from beside her ears.

"A friend," She smiled as she continued maneuvering them through the woods. "And a guide! You’ll never get where you need to go without my help,"

"So you know where I'm going? You can see my string too?"

"Well, sure! I let you see it after all. Boy, was he worried when I told him you were stuck out here without your magic. Idiot almost killed himself trying to find his way through, but it can't be done by anyone but a spirit." She sighed and shook her head, rambling as they avoided a patch of bramble bushes 

"My soulmate...? He was looking for me too? Really?" Lucy felt her heart swell, beating stronger even as she ran, a dazzling smile taking its claim of her lips.

"Yup! You have a very loyal man waiting for you," She giggled. "He can't wait to meet you, said he'd get his house ready and everything while I was out looking for you. I apologize for taking so long, moving around in this realm isn't easy, there’s barely any magic in this land!”

"Magic? Like in books? Isn't that practice all made up?" The princess quirked a brow as the strange girl only giggled again and slowed her movements as they found purchase under the wide berth of a willow tree.

"It's quite amazing someone like you was born here when your home is with us, in the right Fiore. Now, come on! Everyone's waiting!" She grinned, ignoring Lucy's confusion as she pulled them through the hanging branches, the two suddenly falling into the void of the trunk.

"E-Eh?! W-Wha…!" Lucy fell to her knees as she suddenly felt queasy, holding a hand to her head and waited for her headache to subside. She looked up to see where the other blonde had gone, not finding her anywhere and instead met a new and sunny skyline. "Wasn't it…night just a moment ago?"

She stood to her shaky feet, finding her body no longer weighed down by exhaustion, tears, or dirt on her dress. Whatever was in the air made her feel light as, well, air. She'd never felt so amazing before! Just where had she gone when they fell through that tree?

Taking some small steps through the field in front of her, she looked down to her finger, the red string extending into the distance behind her.

"Oh wow…" When Lucy turned around, she was met with the image of a town she had never seen before, curiosity pulling her towards the bustling streets.

It was as she always imagined the streets of the village she ruled above looked; stalls serving food and selling fresh produce, children running and laughing, patrons bartering and making light conversation, happiness in everyone's eyes. Their smiles created her own, and she followed the string eagerly, feeling just right in the Fiore she’d been led to.

She worried this would all turn into a dream soon enough, there couldn't possibly be another Fiore…or the existence of magic at that. Her steps quickened as she feared Spetto would be in at any moment to wake her, feet carrying her towards a patch of woods that broke off from the town.

It would’ve made nice for a peaceful walk if she didn’t think the calm scenery before her would disappear.

“Oi, Gray, watch it!” A sharp voice boomed from the nearby distance. 

“Shut it! I know what I’m doing, it ain’t hard to paint a wall, flame brain!” 

“Don’t start a fight! We had to rebuild that side of the house five times because you two keep knocking it down!”

Lucy slowed down her pace as the volume of their argument increased but kept her eyes on the string that told her he was just ahead. 

Her eyes landed on a red-haired girl pointing a large sword at two boys who kneeled respectively in front of her, bowing their heads as she scolded them. 

Breaking through the line of trees, Lucy smoothed down her stray hairs and dusted off her dress, holding herself nervously as she continued forward.

Each step closer made her legs feel like jelly, flushed her cheeks, and made her heart beat a million times faster, her fingers twitching as she held her hands together. 

“U-Um...excuse me…?” Lucy’s voice was shaky as she approached the three, her eyes watery as she stared at the pink-haired boy who raised his head at the sound of her voice. The string fell into his lap; he was her soulmate.

The red-haired girl turned to face her first, eyes concerned as they fell on her disheveled appearance. “My goodness, are you okay? You’re not lost, are you?”

“N-No...I—“ 

"Oh, crap! It's you!" 

"Don't say that to a girl, idiot! You have no idea who that is!" The raven-haired boy threw a glare at the pink-haired one who quickly stood up.

“Mavis didn’t tell me when you’d get here, I would’ve come to pick you up if I knew you were...oh, hey, don’t cry, okay? Um, here,” He quickly took the end of his scarf to wipe her tears, feeling a knot in his throat as she gently fell against his chest. "It's gonna be okay."

"I just...I just can't believe…" She shook her head, not minding the stain she created on his shirt. "That you're real...that you were waiting for me."

"'Course I was! Having a new family member is always exciting, and my hearts been leapin' like crazy waitin' for you! You were stuck out there all alone and I couldn't come find you. I'm sorry it took so long." 

Erza forced herself and Gray to look away as the blonde hastily kissed their wild companion, his shock present in the stiffness of his back.

He was startled by the sudden action but felt himself melting into the touch, desperate as well to be close to his soulmate.

"I'm home," Lucy laughed with a bit of surprise, Natsu's eyes widening along with his grin. 

"Yeah! Welcome back!"

[sunfish-studies]

Pen and Paper

✄・・・ Crisp Leaves [Aoba Johsai Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: I wonder if crackhead-ness of this team could be considered as a warning? Temporary mute reader.

➜ Notes: Manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall, around 170.5 cm.

↷ SUMMARY ↶

People need to watch what they say because it will sometimes bite them back the least they expected–leaving a damage worth hundred times more.

If Oikawa wasn’t having the best mood, then everyone expected mutiny like this happened–him channeling all of his frustration in his jump serves. Not just one, not just two, the whole trolley of volleyball will be finished by him alone–and still not enough.

It was pure raw strength–the ball ricochet and the loud sound it produced once it slammed to the ground was no joke. The first years and second years was hesitant to remind him not to push himself too much, somehow knowing if they did that they will feel the spare of his wrath.

Only third years and the coach could throw hands in this matter.

Practice was over almost an hour ago and Oikawa wouldn’t be stopping soon. Iwaizumi was gripping the ball in his hands a little too tight–signaling that he was indeed in the brink of exploding himself. Maybe around the next minute there will be chaos.

“Tooru, practice is over. We need to go home,” that’s where [Name]’s duty lies. As a manager, it was necessary for her to take care of the members and remind them not to overwork.

Being ignored by the said brunette was expected–this happened countless of times back in their middle school days and somehow didn’t change. She hoped to evade violence as much as she could, especially when Iwaizumi doesn’t use words and proceeded to punch the lights out of Oikawa instead.

“Tooru, your knee is injured,” she said again. “The doctor said about not putting too much pressure on it. It’s time to stop.”

The third time’s the charm, she prayed. Sighing harshly from the lack of respond and on-going rebellion forced her to grabbed onto Oikawa’s arm. “Tooru-“

“Can’t you just shut up for once!?” he yanked his arm away with a harsh bat. Facing her with pure anger apparent on his face was something usual–however, it still brought her shoulders tensed up from the pure fury shone from those brown eyes. “Shut up and leave me alone! Isn’t that simple enough to do!?”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi already growled with the same intensity of anger, marching towards the two as he rolled his sleeve. There will be unavoidable fist fight and then more problem will ensue.

“Stop it, Hajime,” [Name] stated sternly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If you two got into fight, you’ll be banned from practice for the whole week. Coach made it extremely clear about fighting between teammates.”

She wasn’t even joking about it and both Oikawa and Iwaizumi knew, which was why with a click of his tongue the brunette began gathering the balls in fast pace. After he finished tidying up, he went straight towards the exit–slamming the door shut.

“He needs to cool down for some time,” [Name] remarked, loud enough to be heard by the whole members left behind. “So, just leave him alone for now. Until he decides to talk like he used to, let him be.”

“Y-yes, senpai…”

                                                           ✎ . . . .

“WHAT!?” and the first minute of practice started with an unexpected chaos from the most least person who’s likely did so. The whole team instantly had their attention zeroed on their assistant coach, Coach Mizoguchi. Not only that, Coach Irihata had his eyes widened in disbelief. In front of the two was their manager standing.

“Do you need a break?” the older man questioned, eyes radiating worry. The reply he got was a head shook from their manager. There was pregnant silence before the coach continued. “Are you sure? Isn’t it the best to get some rest?”

A head shook became an answer, which made Coach Irihata sighed in defeat–probably relenting on her insistence on something. “Alright, but if you’re not feeling well somehow just tell me and you’re excused to go home.”

“Everyone, gather around!” Coach Mizoguchi called out, and automatically they left their activities behind to line up in front of their coaches and manager. Once the man studied all of them to made sure they were all gathered, he started with a sigh. “We have an unfortunate thing happens.”

“Your manager can’t speak at the moment,” Coach Irihata didn’t want to beat around the bush and decided to straight up telling the whole team the truth.

“Uhm, what do you mean Coach…?” Iwaizumi asked slowly, trying to comprehend the statement from before.

“Apparently, your manager lost her voice.” The older man repeated. “And for the time being, she will communicate with all of you using her notebook.”

There was silence that befall the gym for a few minutes before chaos ensued.

“WHAT!?”

“How did that happen!?”

“Are you okay, Otohaku-senpai!?”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s not participating in practice or anything, she will do her work as usual.” Coach Irihata continued, his words successfully got the team’s shrieks of disbelief under control. “That’s why, if I found out that somehow you’re troubling your manager, there will be drills to compensate. Do I make myself clear?”

Series of gulps could be heard from the subtle threat looming over. “U-Understood, Coach…”

“Now, dismiss!”

                                                          ✎ . . . .

“Oi, are you sure you’re okay?” Iwaizumi was the first one to ask, however he was followed by the others almost immediately once the coach told them that it’s break time. Giving them already-filled water bottles was [Name]’s duty, and he thought it was a great time to begin questioning. “Shouldn’t you be home and getting bed rest of something?”

After handing the Ace his bottle, [Name] automatically reached out for the notebook in her jacket pocket. Opening an empty page, she began scribbling for some time then shoving the object onto Iwaizumi’s face.

‘I’m fine. There’s no fever or anything. In fact, I feel normal besides losing my ability to speak.’

“Do you have a doctor’s appointment for this?” Matsukawa questioned next.

‘My mom already arranged one. Maybe we’ll go a day after tomorrow.’

“S-senpai,” this time, it was Kindaichi. “D-do you maybe do something or eat something that could possibly led to this?’

[Name] hummed soundlessly, contemplating about her junior’s words before she’s back to writing. ‘Nothing in particular. I had dinner like usual, finishing my homework, and sleep normally. Just after I woke up, I realized I couldn’t reply to my mom calling from downstairs.’

“Are you sure you’re alright, senpai?” Watari asked in concern. “Maybe you really should take a short break like the coach suggested…”

‘I’m fine, Watari-kun. This doesn’t hinder my work at all. On the good side, you don’t need to hear my annoying voice-‘

“DON’T SAY THAT!!”

Oikawa’s voice suddenly booming across the gym–startling all of them in the process. Pairs of eyes focused on him and his abruptness.

“I-We love your voice, [Nickname]-chan!” the brunette stated. “You always cheered on us, taking care of us, helping us in team meetings! I know it’s my fault because I told you to shut up, it’s just my anger speaking! I didn’t mean any of those words!”

“Ah, so in the end, it’s your fault,” Iwaizumi smiling, however the aura oozing from his figure was anything but nice. He was out for blood–and the grip he had on the water bottle was borderline dangerous it could break the object.

“I-I didn’t mean to, I swear!” Oikawa shrieked, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry!”

The vice-captain was absolutely ready to give their captain a good beating, fortunately, a notebook shoved onto Oikawa’s face came to save his day (and probably his life). Holding onto the book carefully, he read every single word written on the surface of the paper.

‘It’s not your fault, Tooru. Sometimes, anger blinds us. I know you don’t mean it, so it’s alright. You have a rough day too, right?’

“[Nickname]-chan!!” in return, he jumped onto their manager–giving her a tight hug, burying his face into her shoulder. She sighed soundlessly at his childish antic but still returning the gesture by patting his back gently.

“So, it’s because of what happened yesterday?” Kunimi concluded. “Could this be karma for Oikawa-san?’

Hanamaki laughed. “You can count it that way.”

 -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Extra [The Next Day]

“Good morning, everyone!”

“OTOHAKU-SENPAI!!”

“Yahaba-san, you’re crying…”

“Let him be, Kunimi. We’re all worried about her, aren’t we?”

“Issei, where do you put the bibs away?”

“Oh, it’s in the box next to the poles. I moved it.”

“[NICKNAME]-CHAN!!!”

“Stop clinging onto our manager, Shittykawa!”

Ah, yes, finally another normal day in practice.

[honeydarlings]

Can you please write a one shot about yandere!All Might in his hero form stalking the reader (knows their schedule, habits, etc.) and in his mind, he’s just protecting them? Then later on, he notices the reader isn’t back home at their usual time and finds them hurt after being mugged in an alley way. Perhaps he takes them back to his place to fix up their wounds and when they want to leave, he won’t let them since he’s overprotective.

First request !!! I hope you like it !!

I'm Doing this for You

TW || Stalking, kidnapping, manipulation, drugging, gore and violence.

7:30pm, you walked through the front door to your apartment. Right on time, as always. Whenever you got home after work you would tie your hair back just to get it out of your face as you started cooking dinner. All Might loved the way you looked with your hair back, he got to see more of you. He sat atop a building right across from your apartment window with a pair of binoculars. Everyday he watched you. He would watch you wake up, take the train to work, eat lunch, return home. Almost everywhere you went he was watching. “7:45, you always turn on the radio.” The hero mumbled to himself as you turned on the small radio sitting on your kitchen counter. He smiled, happy to know your every move. At first he was unsure about following you, worried he would be found out by you or another hero. But then he realized he was doing this for your sake, to protect you. It’s a dangerous world out there, especially for someone as delicate as you. As 8:15 rolled around so did your dinnertime, you sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. “True crime.”He muttered. True crime indeed, you turned on one of your favorite true crime shows as you began to eat. Suddenly All Might’s phone buzzed, startling him a bit. “All Might we have a situation downtown, we need you here” The text read. “Damn.” All Might huffed, couldn’t it wait until after you went to bed, so he knew you were safe?. Another text came through, “It’s urgent.” He scowled and got to his feet, leaping off, leaving you all alone.

8am. He barely made it, watching you wake up was one of All Might’s favorite things. Your messy hair and groggy face. You were so damn adorable, he couldn’t help but smile. Everything you did was absolute perfection to him and he wanted nothing more than to stay by your side and keep you safe. You departed for work, walking to the train station. All Might following close behind, leaping from building to building. He made sure that you safely boarded the train before going off to do hero work. After all, even though it tore him up, he couldn’t watch you all day, he was still a hero.

By the end of the day, All Might was exhausted but he still rushed to get to your window to watch you come home. 7:30, on the dot. He sat, staring at your front door. It didn’t open. He felt a pit form in his stomach. “Maybe they’re running a little late.” He reassured himself, trying to stay calm. He waited five more minutes, still no sign of you. The panic had now settled in, All Might quickly stood and raced to find you. He followed your exact route to the train station, you weren’t there. He scrambled to the small library where you worked and peered through each window, you were nowhere to be found. He quickly made his way to the train station, checking every shop. He had never felt like this before, he had never been this panicked fighting villains or saving others. He reached the alleyway you always cut through and was met with a sickening display.

You were sprawled onto the pavement, covered in bruises and blood. Soft whimpers escaping your lips. A tall lanky figure stared down at you with a led pipe in their hand, your bag in his other. “What the hell is going on here.” All Might boomed, trying to maintain his composure. The figure looked up at All Might with fear and then took off in a sprint, dropping the led pipe but still holding your bag. “Bastard.” All Might growled, chasing after him. It didn’t take long to catch up to the criminal, seeing as All Might was much faster and could cover more ground. He grabbed the thief’s shoulder and pulled him downwards onto the pavement. He landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. All Might made sure that he was out of your sight, then picked the man up by his head, gripping it tightly. He started to squeeze. The man screamed, clutching All Might’s massive hand trying to pry it off. “You are lower than scum.” All Might snarled as his hold tightened. A crack rang out through the alley. Blood started pooling out of the man's eyes, nose and mouth as All Might continued to squeeze. Another loud crack followed by silence as the criminal's body went limp. Blood and teeth were splattered onto the ground as the man’s corpse hit the pavement. The blonde hero shook drops of blood off his hand then wiped the rest off on the corpse's jacket.

All Might returned to you, your bag in hand. “Are you alright?” He asked softly. You slowly shook your head, unable to get any words out. “Please, let me take you back to my home, I can patch you up and keep you safe.” He gently wiped your tears from your cheeks as you nodded. He smiled and picked you up bridal style. “You don’t have to tell me what happened yet, we can wait until you’re all fixed.” You nodded again, clutching his chest. Once the two of you reached his house was when you managed to speak up. “Thank you, All Might.” You said in an almost whisper. The hero’s stomach fluttered, you were so damn cute! “Of course, anything to keep you safe.”

He walked you through his massive mansion, up the stairs and into his bedroom. He set you down gently onto his large bed. The sheets against your bruised skin was like heaven, you’ve never laid on anything softer. “Wait here while I get my medical supplies and something to drink, I shouldn’t be long.” All Might said as he exited the room. You laid in silence, still trying to process everything that had happened. You were mugged, some creep attacked you with a led pipe and took your bag. Good thing All Might showed up when he did, if he was even second later you could have been killed. The thought made you shudder. You looked around his large bedroom which was surprisingly empty. Nothing except a bed, dresser and a TV mounted on the wall. You were still trying to process the fact that you were inside the number one hero’s home. Does he give treatment like this to all civilians he finds injured? Your thoughts were interrupted by All Might entering the room holding a tray with painkillers, bandages, tissues and a tall glass of water. He set the tray down and grabbed the tissues. He lightly brushed the soft paper against the semi dried blood that gushed out of your nose earlier. “Is it broken?” You asked. “No, but pretty close. You’re lucky I showed up.” He said. He sounded stern and a little bit angry. “Here, take these. I’m sure those bruises are hurting.” He said handing you three small pills and a cup of water. Without hesitation you swallowed the pills with a big sip of water. All Might continued to work in silence as he bandaged your hand, suspecting it to be sprained, and cleaning out the scrapes that covered your hands and knees. As he worked you started to feel dizzy. All Might noticed as your wrist went limp in his hand. “Feeling sleepy, y/n?” He asked. “H-how do you know my name.” Your speech was slurred as your body relaxed into his bed. He brought his hand up to your face and caressed your cheek. “Y/n, sweetheart. That’s not important right now. You should rest. I’ll finish patching you up.” Suddenly all the worry you just felt went away as you drifted off. “You’ll be safe here, y/n. Safe with me.” All Might whispered as he gently kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back in about an hour, my dear.” He stood and planted a kiss on your limp hand. He picked up your bag and fished out your keys. He sighed and shrunk down to his small form, leaving his house and catching a taxi.

The blonde hero stood outside your apartment fiddling with your keys, trying to find the one that fit into the keyhole. “Bingo.” He muttered with a smile as a silver key slid in perfectly, unlocking your door. He stepped into the darkened room and inhaled. He couldn’t believe it, he was in your house! It smelled just like you. He rushed to your bedroom excitedly. He stepped inside and grinned. The whole room just screamed “you”. Even your bedsheets reflected you. All Might grabbed a suitcase laying on the floor and began to pack things for you, inspecting every single one. He smelled every shirt and sweater. After a few minutes he closed the suitcase and was about to head to the bathroom to pack more but then he noticed something on the top shelf of your closet. It took no effort for him to grab it, seeing as he was still massive, even in his small form. A small All Might plushie, a soft shade of pink dusted his face as he held the stuffed toy. You were his fan. He toyed with it before gently placing it in the suitcase. He then made his way to the bathroom grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste placing them in a plastic bag and then inside the suitcase. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. 9:01. “Shit! They’ll be waking up soon!” He rushed out of your front door, quickly locking it behind him. Once he reached the street he changed back into his muscle form to get to you quicker.

You slowly opened your eyes. You were still in All Might’s house. Why would he keep you here for so long? Footsteps quickly approached the bedroom. You groaned and sat up, still groggy. All Might burst through the door. “Ah you’re up! How did you sleep? Feel better?” He questioned as he rushed to get by your side. “I slept well, and I’m feeling a lot better, thank you.” You smiled. “I should probably start heading home soon though. It’s really late already and I have to work tomorrow.” You swung your legs off the side of the bed and tried to stand. All Might jumped in front, knocking you back onto the bed. “I can’t let you do that, y/n.” You stared up at him, wide-eyed. A pit formed in your stomach. “What the hell do you mean?” You shouted, instantly regretting when you did. “I can’t let you leave. It’s way too dangerous for you out there. I’m the only one who can keep you safe.” You tried to stand again only causing All Might to push you back down. “Please listen to me y/n. I’m doing this to protect you!” You were too scared to move anymore. “Wh-MPH!” All Might pressed his thumb over your lips, shutting you up. “The only place that you’ll be safe is here, with me.” Tears stung the corners of your eyes. He pulled his thumb away, letting you speak. “You’re scaring me.” You whispered. All Might’s face fell. He was scaring you? “Darling, I’m so sorry. I just want to keep you safe! Isn’t that what you want? To be safe? To be with me? I planned everything out! Here, I’ll show you!” He ran out of the bedroom only to return with your suitcase in hand. “I packed all your clothes and I even brought your All Might plush!” He held up the small toy, smiling wide. You started sobbing. “I want to go home. Please just take me home.” You choked. “Darling. I don’t think you’re in the right headspace right now. You’re still a bit woozy from the sleeping pills. You can’t possibly be thinking straight right now. How about you sleep on it again and then we’ll discuss this again in the morning?” He picked your legs up and placed them back on the bed, pulling the soft sheets over top. You were frozen with fear. He kidnapped you. He drugged you. “You’re a monster.” You whispered as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “It might seem that way right now darling but, in time, you’ll see that I’m doing all this for you. We’ll speak more about this tomorrow.” He smiled and left the bedroom, locking you inside. He had you now. And he would never let you go.

(This was so fun !!! Feel free to request as much as you like while they’re open !!)

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 3

Training

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis: y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter summery: y/n starts training at Hydra and dicovers the other side of Bucky

warnings: violence

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

A little buzz sounded as my cell drew open, the chamber opposites sat empty. My head turned slightly to see a gruff man walk in, electrified baton in hand. I knew to be careful when they carried one of those.

"Up." Was all he said, hand wrapping around the metal cuffs and yanking me to my feet before he was dragging me through the desolate corridor.

It was strangely quiet - the past month the cells had been full, SHIELD agents and enemies of HYDRA clogging up the little glass rooms with blood stain clothes and bruised faces. I guess they'd been disposed of, and that though sent a chill down my spine. Is that how I was to end?

His hand pushed roughly between my shoulder blades, one foot falling over the other in a stumble as I fell into the room, the guard stepping in behind me and letting the heavy metal door slam shut with a threatening thud. The man I had first met when he smiled grimly at me once my alterations had first been completed was waiting with a smug grin - a sickening expression a rarely saw him without unless it was replaced with one of rage. I had come to know him simply as 'General'.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stark." He grinned, waving his hand menacing to motion me forward. I did as I was told, plodding forward tentatively until I was stood before him. A wince escaped me as he rough grabbed my chin, pulling it between his thumb and finger to tilt my head back so my gaze bored into his. "We are starting your training today." He stated, his free hand reaching around to unclasp the metal contraption laid over my mouth.

He tossed it to the bench that stood next to him before he raked a hand through my greasy hair, pushing the tangled locks out of my face. He seemed to observe me for a moment, letting his eyes wander over my body - which was clad in some simple black tactical suit - before landing back on my eyes again.

"You will be fighting the winter soldier every day for at least two hours. This training will only stop once you have beat him, and once this happens, we'll know you are ready to be released into the world." The General explained, letting go of my chin and giving me a nudge towards the centre of the room. It was only then that I saw the soldier standing there.

But he was not my comfort buddy. This version of him was rough, cruel looking. His teeth were bared, chest heaving and nostrils were flared. His bicep bulged against the leather of his suit and his face was set in a ruthless scowl. I gulped, meekly making my way to stand in front of him.

"Begin." Was all the general had to say before the soldier was on me, metal fist flying for my head in a fast punch. I ducked just in time, scurrying to the other side of him and taking the time to think.

I begun to hum a hypnotising tune, in hopes of stopping the lug of a man preparing to hit me harder this time, but with no luck. Distracted, his fist collided with my stomach this time, sucking the air from my lungs and lurching my backwards until my ass connected with the ground. I groaned loudly, rubbing my sore stomach as I tried humming again. All the while the soldier advanced on me, taking heavy step before his Chucky boat was connecting with my side.

"You may found his mind is much...stronger than a usual human's." The general smirked and my eyes widened as I quickly flipped onto my front, desperately attempting to crawl away. But I had no luck, the feeling of the soldier's gloved hand made me cry out as it gripped my hip and pulled me backwards harshly before his metal hand curled around my throat. He hoisted me up it the air, turning my small body in his hands as if I were as light as paper before slamming my head backwards into the wall, hand still tight around my neck.

My legs kicked aimlessly in the air, hands clawing frantically at his own as he repeated slammed my head backwards against the concrete.

"Enough!" The general barked as I felt my eyes rolling back, consciousness falling from my grasp. The soldier released me, my limp body falling the the floor at his feet as I coughed and spluttered. The soldier tune Ed away, walking to the centre of the room as I gasped for air and leant forward on my hands, retching at the ground from all fours. "Again!"

My eyes widened in realisation and I began to scramble to my feet, but the ominous footsteps reached my first and before I could utter a single word my body was crushed to the floor, the soldier's thick thighs straddling my own - tapping my arms at my sides too - to stop my from flailing.

The impact of his metal fist crashing against the side of my face burst my lips open and the wet trickle of blood down my chin made me shiver. Then it hit again and I cried out, a stinging echoing across the right side of my face. I could feel the flow of blood from my nose and the tangy taste of it on my tongue as it infiltrated my mouth, sliding over my lips.

I started to slip away, ready to let the pain take me when I heard the word boomed again.

"Enough!" The soldier pulled away instantly, pushing up from my thighs and thudding back across to the centre of the room again. A dizziness washed over me, and I soon came to realise that it would be a long time before I beat him. Then the dreaded word was ordered, reaching a groan from me as I climbed onto shaking feet, this time raising my aching arms and dusting my hands in order to attempt to block him: "Again."

... You'd think that was the worst part, huh? Well, guess again. What the general had definitely failed to leave out was the punishment for losing. For each game I lost, I earned myself five strikes.

When our first session was up, I was quickly escorted out - not before they replaced my silencer (that's what I opted to call it) - and dragged to another new room. This one also stood bare, only housing a single wooden pillar that stood around my own height that housed a round metal cuff of either side about half way up. I sealed thickly, eyeing the cuffs with fear and hesitation as I was shoved forwards until I was stood before the wood.

"Kneel." That order was spat at me, and the baton in the guard's hand made me oblige quickly, sinking to my knees before it and grimacing at the uneven gravel under my knees that bit into my skin even through my suit. He silently walked over to me, grabbing my wrists one at a time and locking them into the cuffs - nothing gentle about it. The jingle of his key was like nails on a chalkboard in my ears as he slipped my back into his belt and walked away.

The door was slung open, loud footsteps approaching me before an unsettling breath was at my ear.

"Maybe after this, you'll actually try to win tomorrow." The general gritted out, the cold tip on a knife hooking into the top on my suit and poking the back of my neck making me flinch. I gasped suddenly as he yanked the blade down, slitting the suit down the back and cutting it free of my arms until the fabric bunched at my waist. My sports bra was next to go, leaving me feeling humiliated as I felt the watchful eyes of both the general and the guards on my bared breast and nipples which were leaked from the cold.

I felt humiliated, knelt with my wrists bound and my top half naked in a room full of much less than honourable men in a place I didn't know. I flinched again when I heated the whip crack in the air, the general flicking the leather around in order to test it out.

"Why don't you count for me, princess?" He mocked, the sinister laughter of the guards adding to his at the sexual inference and my bottom lips quivered. The snap of the leather against my back sent a scream through me, snuffed out by the silencer. My body quaked and my eyes pooled with stinging tears as they became bloodshot red. Sweat broke out on my forehead as the once again sickening feeling of blood trickling down my skin filled my senses.

One, I counted in my head and a second later, the second hit harder than the first.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan - Chapter 8/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Notes:

Thank you all for your interest in this story, it was really my first time trying to write a story that was not modern. It took a lot of research and not all of it is accurate but it was a lot of fun stretching myself to try this out. Thank you all again for all the comments, flails, and encouragement. You guys are the best.

Chapter 8: Love is Stronger

Emma watched in horror as the King and Queen of Jonesboro fell to the ground, a pool of blood expanding under their motionless bodies. Killian advanced to his mother’s position, glaring up at Regina with a look of murderous anger.

She felt like everything was moving in slow motion as he stood from his spot, his sword out in front of him, a low growl expanding from his throat until he ran full force toward the woman. He was blocked immediately by her guards as his sword clashed against metal. Liam moved beside her, rushing to flank the evil Queen between himself and his brother.

Emma stood frozen to her spot at the front of the room, moving only when she saw her mother pinned between two guards. She knelt on the ground next to a fallen soldier, pulling the blade from the man’s hand. Spinning away from an approaching attack, she raised the blade, hearing the metal clang loudly in her ears as it connected with the man’s sword.

The man seemed surprised, his eyes widening as she narrowed her eyes. “Come now sweetheart, I promise I’ll make it quick for you.” He taunted her.

Emma stepped back on her foot, spinning under his blade, and driving hers through the man’s chest. “Thanks for making it quick.” She glared, kicking her foot against his body to push him off her blade as he fell, lifeless to the ground.

She continued to make her way toward her mother when Regina’s voice boomed louder than the commotion around her, causing Emma to spin around to find her in the crowd.

“How does it feel to be king?” She taunted Liam. “Unfortunately, it will be the shortest reign on record.” She growled, rushing toward him. Liam met her sword with his as they stood inches away from each other, a grimace of anger on Liam’s face. Suddenly she saw movement behind the Queen, dark hair moving through the crowd as he rushed toward the pair with his weapon raised in front of him.

Thinking he had the upper hand he left himself unprotected, something that the Queen immediately took advantage of. As if she sensed his presence, she spun around, the end of her blade slicing into his shoulder.

“Killian.” The words left her mouth in a scrambled scream. She looked toward her mother, seeing her defending her spot valiantly. Emma rushed forward, trying to race to the other side of the room. When she could see Liam in front of her, she watched in horror as strong arms pulled Liam backward, allowing the Queen to focus her full attention on his younger brother.

The path to Killian closed as men flanked her on all sides, evil smiles spread across their faces as they held their weapons in front of them. She lunged forward, fighting off two of the men, but the men behind her were getting closer, the blade narrowly missing her leg as she tried to spin away. She heard a loud clash behind her and turned to see her father’s sword enter the fray. She nodded in his direction as he took care of the men behind her, and Emma turned her attention back to the soldiers at her side.

Dispensing of one of them easily, she began swinging her sword, the feeling of anxious desperation to get to Killian’s side starting to grow in her.

When the man in front of her finally fell, she looked up to see Killian still fighting the Queen in the center of the room, behind them she could see Liam fighting off three other large soldiers. Before she could reach them, Liam burst through the wall of men, backing up against his brother as the two of them held their swords, fighting the crowd around them, while trying to keep the Queen at bay.

For a moment as Emma watched between blades, she thought perhaps they had the upper hand, but then Liam was on his back, a blade at his throat and the Queen had Killian in her grasp, his arm wrenched behind his back, a dagger digging into his side.

She spun him around, showing him off to his brother and Emma felt her heart pounding in her throat.

“Which is gonna hurt more, watching your parents die, or your baby brother?” The Queen taunted Liam, laughing as she threw her head back.

Emma kicked at the man in front of her, bringing the blade down against his neck, pushing past him before his body fell. She heard Killian wail in pain, the dagger drawing blood. Emma lifted her sword, ready to plunge it into the woman’s back. Again, as if the woman sensed the presence behind her, she spun around, holding the dagger to Killian’s throat. “The bride wants to play games.” She said with a roll of her eyes.

The Queen looked to her right as a man pushed Liam to his knees and she locked eyes with Killian. “Go…save your parents.” He grunted at the end when Regina dug the knife into his neck.

“No, I won’t leave you.” She cried out, biting her lip as she tightened the grip on the hilt of her sword. Something flashed in the Queen’s eyes before an ominous laugh escaped her lips.

“Interesting.” She mused and Emma took a step toward the woman.

“You have nowhere to go. You are surrounded, we will destroy you.” Emma threatened only causing the woman to laugh louder.

“Do you think your measly forces are a threat to me? Such a naïve child you are.”

“Emma go! Our people will follow you, even after we are gone. They need you.” Killian grunted, struggling to free himself from Regina’s grasp.

“I need you.” She said through tears as her eyes stayed locked on Killian’s, avoiding turning her gaze toward the man she was supposed to marry. She couldn’t lose Killian; she would not let this woman take the one thing she had waited her entire life to find.

Love.

She didn’t know what overtook her, but a growl from somewhere deep in her belly left her throat as she rushed toward the woman, her sword held high in front of her. Killian pressed an elbow into the woman’s side, bending forward to avoid the blow of Emma’s sword, Regina twitched to the side causing her aim to be off center as the blade plunged into the woman’s side.

Before she could react, she was shoved backward against the ground, the woman yelling orders around her as men rushed toward the door surrounding their Queen in a circle of protection.

She winced in pain as she sat up on her elbows, knowing that tomorrow she would have bruises in places she didn’t dare think of, if she survived today, she thought grimly. Killian was at her side, his fingers in her hair.

“Are you alright?”

She looked up into his blue eyes, a smile returning to her face for a moment. “I think so, are you?”

He reached down, pressing his hand to his side. “Nothing that can’t be fixed, thanks to you.” She was transfixed by his gaze, the way he stared at her as if he were afraid she would disappear in his arms, leaning into the soft feel of his hand against her cheek.

“That’s the second time I’ve saved your life.” She said with a soft smile.

“You’re very good with a sword.” He smirked.

As if suddenly they were both aware of their surroundings, he helped her to stand and they both looked around the room at the men and women scattered about the ground. Emma’s eyes searched desperately for her parents only to have them appear at her side, fussing over each scratch and bruise displaying on her skin.

“I’m fine.” She said, brushing them away as she watched the two brothers standing mournfully over the bodies of their parents. She knew they would both be devastated, though Liam was fully aware of the possibility of one day taking the place of his father, she knew this was not the way he had anticipated it happening.

She leaned into her father’s side as he cradled her head in his hands before Liam and Killian approached. “The guards advised that Regina retreated by way of the East Road, though most of her men have scattered.”

“We need to attack while she is vulnerable, Your Highness.” Her father said with a bow of his head toward Liam.

“I am in agreement, she is injured thanks to your daughter, she will not expect an advance after the destruction she left in her wake.”

“Then we shall continue the ceremony at once.” Her father stated, gesturing to some of the men to collect the priest, Emma’s heart sinking in her chest.

~*~

Killian pressed a palm to his mother’s face, closing her eyes and bending to press a kiss to her forehead before draping the cloth over her body. “She loved you more than me, you know.” Killian glanced toward his brother’s voice, a small smile splaying on his face.

“You know that isn’t true.”

“You were the baby, I reconciled with it long ago.” He chuckled.

“Regina must pay for this.” He said solemnly.

“She will. Today we stand together, you and I. Nothing will stop us from bringing Regina’s reign to an end.”

He clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I will follow you to the end of the earth, my King.”

“You fought valiantly today.”

“We still lost.” He said sadly.

“They would not want us to lose hope.” Liam said softly. “As mother always said, when we are at our darkest, love will bring us to the light.”

Killian turned his eyes toward Emma’s at the other end of the room, her mother fussing over her hair as she looked nervously in his direction.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Killian jerked his gaze back to his brother. “What?”

“Before the ceremony, Emma told me that she was in love with another.”

Killian gulped, the guilt tearing at him. “Brother, I swear, I never meant…”

“Do you love her?”

His eyes met hers once again. “With everything that I am.”

~*~

“Mom, please. Stop.”

“It’s just a spot of blood.” Her mother complained, brushing her cheek with the corner of her sleeve. “Emma, I’m so sorry, this is not how your wedding should have gone.”

“I’m not upset about the wedding! His parents are dead?”

“I know.” She said sadly, pausing as she leaned against the wall beside them. “Alice and I were friends when we were younger. I would never have wished this on her. She was a wonderful woman. But Liam has been preparing for this his entire life.”

Emma shook her head, staring at Killian across the room, their eyes meeting for a moment as he spoke with his brother. “Liam will be a good King.”

“And you will be a wonderful Queen, Emma, you were born for this.” Before Emma could respond she was approached by her father.

“We must start the ceremony now.” He announced as Liam and Killian appeared behind him. He turned toward the men. “It’s time, you and Emma must marry now.”

Emma met Liam’s eyes and he smiled at her softly. “I was wrong earlier.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I cannot perform my duty when my heart belongs to another.”

Her father’s face narrowed in anger. “Are you rejecting my daughter?”

Liam smiled at Emma. “I am simply allowing her to meet her own destiny.”

“King Liam, I know this has been a difficult day, but we must unite our kingdoms if you wish to avenge your parent’s death.” Her father tried to reason.

Liam stepped closer to Emma and took her hand. “You and I do not need to marry to unite our Kingdom, Emma, but there can still be a wedding this day, if that is what your heart truly desires.”

“What are you talking about?” Her father interjected, staring between the two of them.

“Liam…I can explain.” She started before he cut her off.

“There is no need to explain. The heart wants what the heart wants.” He looked over her shoulder toward the woman standing behind her, Elsa looked bewildered as he stepped toward her and took her hand.

“This is an outrage.” Her father said angrily. “You reject my daughter for another woman at her own wedding.”

“Father.” Emma said loudly. “Stop.” She turned toward Killian. “I’m sorry I wasn’t brave.”

“Love, you did what you thought you needed to do. I could not judge you for doing your duty, no matter how much it pained me.” Killian stepped toward her.

“I should have chosen you; for it is all that my heart desires.” She heard her mother gasp behind her.

“Then choose me now.” He reached for her hand, pulling her toward him. “I cannot make you Queen of Jonesboro, but I promise that I will always be by your side, and I will love you like no other.”

“Emma, what is the meaning of this?” Her father stepped between them.

“I love Killian, daddy. I do not wish to disappoint you, but I choose him, and together we can still stop Regina, we can still protect our people.”

“Killian will never be King.” Her father stated somberly.

“You taught me about responsibility, about duty and honor, but I don’t need to be the Queen of Jonesboro to unite our people.” She reached over and took Killian’s hand, looking over her shoulder at Liam. “We simply need to lead the way and they will follow.”

Her mother stood next to her father, reaching out to touch his arm. “Years ago, it was love that tore these kingdoms apart, perhaps now it is time to let love bring them together.”

“But she needs to be Queen…”

“And she will be.” Her mother said suddenly, reaching out to touch her daughter’s cheek. “Emma is the rightful heir of Misthaven.”

“Thank God.” Henry exclaimed behind them.

“Mary Margaret, women are not in the line of succession.” Her father argued. “It is the law of the land.”

“A law that the King of Misthaven has the ability to ignore or perhaps rewrite.” She said with a smile in Emma’s direction.

“Regardless of my father’s stubbornness, and though he would not admit it publicly, he knew that his Margie had chosen the better man that day.” Liam said stepping forward. “And now we face a mighty adversary, a woman who does not care about the law of men. Perhaps on this day, it is not a man who will defeat her.”

“Emma, is this what you want?” He father asked.

“All I have ever wanted was for you to see me for what I could be. I have watched you lead my entire life. I have learned everything I know because of you. I am more than a decorative piece of furniture.”

“Aye, she is a fierce fighter, skilled with a blade, and too stubborn to back down.” Killian said proudly as he stood at her side.

“She gets that part from me.” Her father said with a laugh.

“People of Jonesboro.” His brother’s voice boomed behind him. “Today has been a sad occasion. We have lost our beloved King and Queen, but we will not let this deed go unpunished. I promise to serve you proudly as King of Jonesboro and we will avenge my parents by removing the evil that set foot in our house here this day.” He turned toward Killian, glancing between him and Emma. “This kingdom has long since held ill will to our neighbors in the North, but starting today, there will be no malice toward the people of Misthaven. We must let love guide our hearts.”

He paused, taking Emma’s hand. “I have learned much from Princess Emma, she has taught me that our duty as royals means that we must protect those who trust us to lead them. But she also taught me that without love, duty means nothing.”

He turned toward the blonde woman standing behind him. “Love is stronger than any blade and I will not allow love to be defeated on this day.” He turned his attention back to the people standing in their seats, confusion, and anxiety on their faces. “Today Jonesboro and Misthaven will join as one, a force of love so strong that it will defeat anything that stands against it.” He guided Emma’s hand toward him until he had placed it into Killian’s palm.

“My brother, Prince Killian will wed Princess Emma of Misthaven, a pair who have proven their worth on this day, a pair who will guide and lead our kingdoms to victory.”

There was a murmur among the crowd as many people whispered to their nearest neighbor.

“Hear me Misthaven.” King David’s voice boomed. “I will follow King Liam into the depths of the black forest until we reach the Queen’s castle and remove her from her reign of terror. I will do so with my daughter by my side, the rightful heir of Misthaven.”

Killian heard the crowds gasp before David pushed on.

“People of Jonesboro, we must never forget the sacrifices that were made today, a loss that I am most certain will be felt for years to come. As many of you know, King Brennan and I were not friends, but perhaps we had more in common than we realized. The devotion of our Kingdom, the joy of watching our children become braver than ourselves, and the support of the one who stands firm beside us.” He reached over and took the hand of his wife, pulling her to his side. “We should have let go of childish pride, but we could not see past our own anger. An anger that divided us and surely would destroy our lands. It is our children that have shown me the error of our ways, sadly it is too late for me to make it right with King Brennan, but together, with our children united, we can save the Enchanted Forest from a most certain destruction.”

Liam clasped him on the shoulder. “Let love rule this day.”

Killian glanced at Emma; her eyes wide as she took in the scene in front of her. “Love, what do you say?”

She turned to him, her eyes blinking slowly. “I…”

“Marry me, Emma. Marry me for now and for all eternity.”

She shook her head repeatedly as her father laughed. “She was never this quiet at home, you have done something I have tried to do for years, you have rendered her speechless.”

“Father.” Emma said in a warning tone but with a playful smile on her face. He turned toward the priest.

“Please, continue.” He gestured to the couple and stepped away from the altar to take his seat.

The priest took in the situation in front of him, hesitant to proceed. “They have my blessing.” Liam said softly, stepping back from the couple and taking Elsa’s hand once more as he guided her happily to a seat at the front of the room.

The man cleared his throat. “I suppose I shall ask again, Princess, art thou here this day in pledged troth of thy own free will and choice?”

Emma turned to him and smiled widely. “Yes Father, with all my heart.”

“Prince Killian…” He continued after a pause, “and Princess Emma have pledged their troth to be married this day, we call upon Heaven to bless this union.” The man stared at the door nervously. “Therefore, if anyone can show just cause, why they may not be joined together, by God's Law, or the Laws of the Realm; let them now speak, or else hereafter keep silent for all time.” He winced, as if waiting for the doors to barrel open once more. When he was met with silence, he exhaled.

“Wilt thou have this Woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Killian felt his heart flutter at the words, barely believing the fact that she was standing in front of him, giving herself to him and not his brother. He heard her clear her throat across from him, her eyes nervously scanning his. “Aye, I will.” He said quickly, offering her a smile to reassure her that he was alright.

“Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Emma squinted her eyes closed for a moment and then opened them as she leaned toward him. “About the obey part…” She whispered.

“Considering you are the one who will one day become Queen, it is I who will follow your lead.” He winked.

She laughed light heartedly. “Knowing you, neither one of us will be very good at this whole obeying notion.”

The Priest scowled. “May we continue?” He offered quietly.

Emma stepped back, “I believe we have an accord.” She grinned. “I mean, yes, I will.” She corrected as the Priest stared at her with a frown on his face.

Killian watched her with admiration and pride as they exchanged rings, his hand shaking with nervous energy, his heart barely contained in his chest the moment he felt the cold slide of metal on his own finger.

“Forasmuch as Killian and Emma have consented together in holy wedlock and have witnessed the same before God and this company, I pronounce therefore that they be Man and Wife together, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

He pulled her to him before the man spoke again, brushing his lips against his own as he felt her mouth turn upward in a grin. “My wife.” He whispered softly as she pulled away from him, grinning and turning toward the cheering crowd.

They were approached by his brother and Emma’s parents, congratulatory cheers surrounding them before they were quickly ushered from the room. There was much to be done before they had a moment to digest the last few moments of the day. Planning their armies next moves was paramount if they were to get the upper hand in the fight against Regina which meant they would have mere moments alone before they would head into battle.

The moment the doors closed and the air around them was finally still, he pulled her against him, holding her close against his chest. “I will remember this day as long as I shall live.”

“Then remember to live longer than today.” She said softly against his chest. “For I wish to think upon this day when we are old and gray.”

He pulled away from her, the worry in her eyes shining through. “Emma, I would have followed my brother to the depths of hell to protect my kingdom. And today, I will follow him, but mostly I am honored to fight side by side with you in battle because I believe in you and your will to survive. I saw you today as you stood in front of Regina, unafraid and full of pride. Today you are not only my wife, my love, but my Queen. Regina doesn’t stand a chance against the likes of Jonesboro and Misthaven united. Today she will fall.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips assaulting his in a bruising kiss. “Keep talking like that and you will find yourself properly rewarded in your bedchamber.”

“Our bedchamber.” He corrected her. “And I very much look forward to my reward.”

She closed her eyes and pressed into him once more. “I love you, Killian.”

“I love you too.” He returned, opening his eyes, and staring into hers with every emotion he could muster. “Stay close to me, love.”

“I shall not keep my eyes off you for one moment.” She teased.

“I would despair if you did.” With one final kiss, they joined the others to make their united stand against Evil Queen Regina.

~*~

Three months later…

“No this is my favorite spot.” Killian’s voice wafted from below her, his lips lightly pressed against the skin behind her knee. She mewed appreciatively. “Ah yes, and that is why it is my favorite, it elicits such a glorious sound.” He traced his hand higher up her thigh, “Though I do enjoy the sounds this area brings as well.” A groan left her throat, much lower than the previous.

“Killian, if you keep this up, we will be late for breakfast.” His lips pressed against her inner thigh.

“Since when are we ever on time for breakfast?”

She giggled, watching his dark hair disappear between her legs, her eyes closing lazily as she enjoyed his ministrations. “Mmm, you make a valiant point, my love.” She could feel the short hairs at his chin brush against her most sensitive area, causing her head to fall back against the bed as she reveled in the feelings washing over her.

“I do believe if you continue to make that sound, we will be late for dinner as well.” He teased as his tongue slid across her center causing her to squeal in delight.

“Then it would be wise for you to quickly finish what you started, before your brother arrives on the morrow.” He lifted his head, his blue eyes gleaming in the sunlight.

“Your father takes great delight in our conversations at the table.” His fingers slipped inside of her. “I would hate to disappoint him with my absence, and it has been a while since I have seen my brother.” His tongue pressed into her folds, sliding languidly against her hot center. “But it would be a shame to rush such a delicate art.”

“Art, huh?”

“Aye.” He said with a smirk, “Pleasing you is a work of art that I take great pride in.” His finger curled inside of her, his tongue hanging loosely from his mouth as he watched her, their eyes locked in a sensuous stare.

“You are quite gifted at…” She moaned as his fingers increased their speed. “Oh God.” She cried out the moment the feeling overtook her, her hands fisting in his hair as she pulled his mouth against her center, riding out the wave of ecstasy before she settled against the bed once more.

“I will never tire of that song.” He chuckled, pulling himself against her body as he brought his mouth against hers. “A song made entirely for my ears, or at least that is what I assume since you enjoy tugging at them while you sing it.” He joked, his tongue sliding against her lips as she allowed him entry.

“I find it is the only way to silence you.” She giggled.

“Minx.” His body melded into hers as he slid inside of her, a low groan leaving his throat the moment he was fully seated inside of her. It was in these moments, the golden sun streaming in through their window, the light caressing his naked skin as he hovered above her, his blue eyes focused only on her, the true intent and emotion of their connection the only thing she could see or hear as his body became one with hers, in these moments she knew that when she had been faced with the decision between love or duty, there was always only one answer.

She had fought beside Killian, and Liam, her father standing by her side. On that day, even her mother had found her bow and set aim on Queen Regina that day. Jonesboro and Misthaven fought side by side, driving out the Queen and ending her evil reign of terror.

They had won because they fought together. Because they were bound by their duty to their people and to each other. They were bound by a love that had risen and bonded them in a way that could not be destroyed. That day they fought for each other, for their home, and for love.

And when Emma returned to Misthaven, as the future Queen of her lands with Killian at her side, she had done her duty and in return been rewarded with love.

[unknowncountrygirl]

Drunken Confession: Ben

Jae arrived in his typical outlandish behavior, wielding two large bottles of Fire Whiskey.

“Look alive boys, our Thursday night just got a lot more interesting!”

“Where did-” Charlie started but waved his hand, “you know what, never mind, I don't want to know.”

“I got cups in my trunk! Gather round boys, it's going to be a good night! Hope you don't have anywhere to go early in the morning.” He summoned his and Murphy's side tables and put them back to back to make a small table in the middle of the room. He then placed the two, rather large bottles on the tables, and went to dig in his trunk.

“This is?” Orion questioned, picking up one of the bottles.

“Irish brewed Firewhiskey, aged in barrels for years. It's the good stuff.” Jae mentioned, placing a array of cups on the table.

“You and I have different ideas of what good stuff is.” Murphy eyed the amber liquid that Orion was sloshing around.

Charlie got off his bed and walked over, looking at the small shot glasses.

“So... You brought it for us all to try?” He asked innocently.

“I have something actually more interesting in mind.” Jae said slyly. “Unless you are all a bunch of softies.”

“Hardly.” Ben replied deadpanned, picking up the second bottle to crack it open, and began to pour it into the glasses, filling them to the top. “What were you thinking Jae?”

“We've all known one another years now, lets get to know each other a little bit better.”

“This is your way of just trying to get information from us that you can blackmail us with later.” Murphy looked up at Jae, feeling very suspicious of him. Jae said nothing, just smiled slyly and took his shot before pouring himself another.

“Take a drink if you have ever used a unregulated potion, I'll go first.” He took a large gulp of the amber liquid. Ben lifted an eyebrow, but played along and poured himself a drink before taking a drink. Charlie, Orion, and Murphy simply nodded as they were handed their own drinks, not touching the liquid to their lips.

“Take a drink if you've ever... Seen a dragon?” Charlie tried. Jae, Ben, and Charlie took long sips.

“You are going to have to include something that we have done.” Murphy almost pouted with a smile on his lips. “Like if you've been voted most dashing Quidditch Commentator.” It was silly, but an excuse to take a drink himself.

About 20 questions, some laughter, light conversation, and the entire first bottle of Fire Whiskey, most of the boys were starting to feel the effects. Ben and Jae held their liquor the best, more then likely because this was not either one's first time drinking underage. Charlie and Murphy were about one drink away from being completely gassed, and Orion was one away from finding world peace.

“Oh, I've got a good one.” Jae slurred slightly. “Take a drink if you've ever had a crush-” All the boys lifted their drinks, but Jae finished his thought, “on Iris!” They all laughed lightly, but the laughter died out when all five of the boys continued to take a shot.

Murphy and Charlie almost immediately sobered up, and Ben froze like a statue.

“Soooo, we have all had dreams of Iris Rosewood?” Orion clarified.

“Is that a question we are suppose to drink to?” Murphy questioned, looking down into his glass.

“More clarification, perhaps I shall word it this way...” Orion drawled, “if you have a crush on Iris.”

Again, the room fell silent as all five boys took another shot.

A couple of the cleared their throats, Jae coughed into his hand. It had become incredibly awkward, incredibly fast.

“This is uncomfortable.” Charlie broke the silence.

“You all may have crushes on her... But I've loved her.” Ben admitted, swirling his Firewhiskey in his cup. “We have been through too much, and she's been there every step of the way for me.” The other boys stopped murmuring and looked at him. “She brought color and vibrancy into my world and I repaid her by hurting her. Hell, all I ever wanted to do is make sure no one ever hurt her and I think by doing that I've been the one to hurt her the most.” He stated more to himself then anyone else in the room. “I think I've done so much damage that no matter how much I love her, what hope I ever had that she could reciprocate is gone. It died when Rowan did.” The air in the room when from light and jovial to heavy and dark in just a few sentences. “I'm going for a walk.”

“If you get caught after curfew-”

“What? Get detention?” Ben stood, grabbed a jacket of his that had been on the end of his bed and left the dormitory.

His foggy mind supplied that going to the Forbidden Forest was a good idea, and he headed that way. Thunder boomed and lightning popped overhead and he thought briefly about heading back but he continued.

Half way down to the forbidden forest, the sky opened up and let down a torrential rain like Hogwarts had not seen in a very long time. Ben hated getting caught in the rain and made a beeline for Hagrid's hut, hoping the half giant wouldn't mind if he waited out the storm in his house. In about twenty steps he was pushing the door open and going inside.

It was dry and he pulled his wool sweater off and shook his hair to remove excess moisture.

“Hagrid?” He called, but there was no light on and Fang lifted his head up to give him a look. He figured Hagrid must not have been there and walked over to the fireplace and put some logs in a pile to start a fire. He ran his hand over the mantle feeling for matches or anything, but decided to cast a simple spell to ignite the wood. There was instant warmth in the hut as he held his hands out, warming his fingers.

The door to the hut opened, and he turned, his wand at the ready to see a figure in the doorway that was far to small to be Hagrid.

“Ben?” The voice called, before stepping into the light of the fire.

“Iris?” He asked, sliding his wand up his sleeve. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for Moondew for growth potion, I need it for my Herbology project and Snape is being greedy.” Iris explained as she peeled her wet rain slicker off and hung it on the coat rack. “What are you doing out here? Isn't it past curfew?” Ben opened his mouth to tell her, she cut him off. “Never mind.”

“What?” “You'll just say something snarky and I've had a good day, so we'll just leave it alone.” Iris stated as she took out the little jar from her bag and inspected her Moondew leaves. He was about to remark that he wouldn't have done that, but that in itself would just prove her right.

She placed the small corked bottle on the table and stepped over to the fire.

“Where's Hagrid?” He asked.

“He's presenting at the Ministry about Thestrals. He won't be back until tomorrow I think.” She informed him, holding her hands out to the fire, a content look on her face. “Fancy a snack? I know where Hagrid keeps his tea, and I have some chocolate and orange scone in my bag.”

“Why do you have scones with you?”

“I wasn't sure how long I'd have to look for the Moondew, so I brought something to eat with me. Plus sometimes I have to bribe Fang to come with me.” She explained as she went to collect the tea he had stashed on a shelf and get the kettle ready over the fire. Ben felt himself blink rather hard, the effects of the Fire Whiskey starting to turn on him. He was suddenly very hot, and the room was a bit spinny.

He had already shed his sweater, and unbuttoned his collared shirt before he made to sit down on the rug in front of the fire. In hindsight, he should have sat farther from the fire, but he honestly wondered if he would even be able to make it to the chair without spilling himself on the floor anyway. Iris was also Head Girl, if she found out he had been drinking she would either have to report him or deal with it herself and he didn't want to incur her wrath.

He twisted his neck, feeling a pop that seemed to relax him as Iris held out a plate with the scones on it. He took a bite,

“these are really good. Did the house elves make this?”

“Oh no, I've made friends with Pits, he let me make some yesterday down in the kitchens.” Iris explained as she tenderly added the tea into a pot and poured the hot water into the hilariously floral teapot that Hagrid had.

“You could make friends with a dung beetle.” He joked, only partially. She laughed lightly.

They sat in silence for a while before the tea was ready and he watched as Iris poured the tea into two mix matched floral cups and handed him one. He reached for the cream and noticed that Iris blew on hers and drank it straight. It was a new little tidbit of information for him to lock away.

“Do you remember back in 2nd year, you wouldn't go up into the astronomy tower so we turned the artifact rooms ceiling into the night sky?” Iris asked suddenly.

“What made you think about that?” Ben asked as he looked over at her. She shrugged.

“We had tea and scones then, remember?” She gestured at the scones with her teacup. “I just... I like that memory.” Iris admitted.

“Back when I was afraid to even-”

“Would you just shut up!” Iris snapped, clacking her teacup loudly against the saucer. “It's a memory that makes me smile, and that I enjoy, why do you constantly try and belittle things that make me happy? Are you that full of bitterness anymore that you won't let anyone enjoy something as simple as a memory?”

“You're defensive tonight, what has you so wound up?” He snapped back just as angrily.

“I'm defensive?” Iris shouted, standing up to tower over Ben, ready for a fight that had been brewing for weeks. “You're the one that can't even let me relive a memory from when we were twelve without you belittling it!”

“I don't like reliving those memories, it was when I was weak-”

“It was when you were kind.” Iris cut in dangerously. He placed his hands on the floor and hoped that he could stand without falling over. He stood on his feet and looked down at her, truly looked at her for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Iris used to have this childlike innocence about her, with her round baby face, porcelain skin, blue eyes that were wide open for the world. He wasn't exactly sure when the last time he took the time to study her, more then likely before Rowan died, and it looked like everything she had experienced had finally caught up with her.

It was only a matter of time, one can only keep loading the camels back before something as simple as a napkin will break their back. He wondered when it was that Iris had finally broke, and wondered if anyone had even noticed. Iris was the unbreakable, she was the epitome of what people wanted to be, of course people thought she was sturdy as stone. They had taken her for granted.

Hell, he had.

Her lips were almost always in a natural smile, now seemed to be downturned in nature. Her eyes, those were what had grabbed him when he first made eye contact with her because he had never seen eyes that were just that blue, had always been bright and happy. Now, they looked like the good china that people put away for safe keeping, dust piling on it where you can see the color, its just muted. Everything about her seemed muted. Her skin, her hair, she was a soul with the weight of a Kingdom on her shoulders. There was more expectations on her at seventeen then that of twenty people.

Ben felt regret in his belly, and he couldn't keep up this conversation. He knew she was far too close and one push would send her over that edge. He had done enough to push her there, he wasn't going to be the one that pushed her to the breaking point.

“I'm not going to have this conversation.” He shook his head, beginning to button up the few buttons he had loosened earlier. Rain be damned, if he had to get soaked to get away from her and let her cool down, he would. He was just about to walk to the door when Iris called,

“You want to know what I think?” Iris told him firmly, it was not really a question but a thinly veiled declaration masquerading as a question. “I think that you're still terrified.”

That stopped him in his tracks. His hand hovered over the door knob, and the rational part of his brain that would have told him to walk away was flooded by Firewhiskey. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She was not going down this time, and she was not going to be ignored. “You are still the terrified Muggleborn you always were, only it's the fear that people will still see you as that person.”

“I am not-”

“I can see it in your eyes! You may be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me.” She pointed at herself. “I know you better then anyone, Benjamin Copper!” It was a fact that was mildly terrifying, and he hated to admit that. “It's a different type of terror, but it's still there and it still controls you down to your core-”

“No it doesn't! I'm a not that person anymore!” He shouted at her. It wasn't the first time he had raised his voice at her, but it felt much different then the times before. Because she had struck a nerve.

He wasn't the one in control anymore.

His delicate control that he had been clinging to since after the buried vault was quickly disinigrating in his hands and he was scrambling to keep it.

“You haven't become brave, you've become cruel!” Iris told him. He could almost see it like an actual image in his mind, she was taking a sledge hammer to his carefully constructed statue of power, bravery and control. Others had chipped away at it, but Iris had come in and went for the Achilles heel that only she seemed to know existed. “Your trauma is what navigates every single decision you have made! Every decision has been made in fear from the moment you stepped into Hogwarts!” Another critical hit, cracks that could never be fixed started to grow threatening to topple over all of himself.

“That's not true!” He yelled back at her, as though he was trying to convince himself.

“Really? Give me an example.” She dared him.

Her attack seemed to stop because she had chipped away and found the one part of his bravery that wasn't an act. That one tiny part of himself that had been bright and true since the beginning.

The part that she overlooked.

Because it was her.

“You.” He stated simply. Iris jumped a bit at the declaration, clearly not seeing his answer coming. “You terrified me. You were loud, outspoken, brave, already good at magic and dueling, you came from a pure blood family, and you were attractive. What wasn't intimidating about you? Especially to a muggleborn like me?” It was his turn to talk and he was going to seize the opportunity, as it seemed he had shocked her into silence in the middle of a fight. “But I approached you first, remember that? I thanked you for standing up to Merula. My palms were sweaty, my heart was racing, I felt like I was going to vomit, yet I rejected that fear to talk to you because there was something about you that felt like a damn gravitational pull!” He took a step closer to her and she held her ground, starring up at him. Her eyes were still alight with fire but there was something else there, a vulnerability that he had seen in her eyes too often since the buried vault. “From brooms and books, to time in the artifact room, I cared about you more then I cared about anyone else, so much so that I went with you to the buried vault! Despite the fact that I thought I would die, I went because I cared more about you then I did myself!”

Iris's lips were in a tight line, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she shook her head.

“Ben don't.” She warned, almost knowing where he was going.

“You're right, every decision I have made has been in fear... The biggest fear I have above all others-”

“Ben stop!”

There was no stopping now. He had regained the control.

“The fear that some how, in some horrible way that I can't control, that you will be hurt or die because you put everyone ahead of yourself in the most reckless and honorable ways!” He felt like he had become a new man, and that he had become braver in the years since the buried vault, but the fire whiskey in his veins was a form of liquid courage that he was sure no potion could replicate. His thought process was interrupted by stinging on his cheek.

Iris had slapped him.  

“Don't you dare say it.” She warned, her voice like ice. “Not after the way you have treated me-”

“I love you!” He wanted to shout it at her, hoping that if he yelled louder then her that she would realize he was being truthful, but all it would do is prove her point that he had just became cruel. She closed her eyes, and he watched a her fight within herself, her fingers curled into fists and he was worried for a moment that she was going to deck him. “Iris.” He reached out and placed a hand over her curled fist, “I love you.”

She shook her head but made no effort to pull away from him. They had went to war with one another and now both stood in front of their dismantled battlements.

Iris was the first to move, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his sternum.  

“I miss you, Ben.” Iris almost sobbed. His hands let go of her fists, and wrapped protectively around her back, holding her tightly. He lowered his head, his nose resting on the top of her head and breathed deeply.

He had finally admitted it, and said it out loud, given it a sense of being. He felt like a weight had been lifted, and he didn't know he had been carrying it around with him.

“I'll work on being less cruel, and more kind again.” He promised her.

“I'll accept that.” Her hands that had been balled up and resting against him opened and she laid her palms and fingers out flat against his chest, before moving them up to wrap around his neck and pull him into a hug. She had to stand on her tip toes in order to get her chin to rest on his shoulders. “Remember when I used to be taller then you?” There was a lightness in her voice that he had missed, and he smiled.

“Yeah, now you're short.” He joked.

“You're no giant yourself.”

“At least I'm taller then you.”

“Everyone is, except for Professor Flitwick.”

“Even that's pretty close.” He laughed and she tapped the back of his head with her hand. She pulled back and looked into his eyes, and smiled gently, placing the hand that had previously slapped him delicately on his face.

“I'm sorry I slapped you.”

“I'm just surprised it took you this long to slap me.” He told her honestly. “I'm sorry that I've hurt you, and I'm going to endever to do better.” Iris nodded and wrapped her arms around him again and listened to how fast his heart was beating, and smiled, knowing hers was beating just as fast.

He had not expected his drunken evening walk to end like this.

[durmstrange]

It’s A Date - Fred Weasley

Welcome to another Fred blurb!  This takes place post war.  Hope you enjoy!

Word count:  1,605

Truthfully, you had always been rather content with your life.  During your schooling, you weren’t unpopular, but you weren’t popular.  People gravitated towards you, but you never became attached to anyone.  You weren’t ever the one to seek other out, but you were there for when others needed you.  In fact, if no one had sought you out, you would have spent your school years alone, and you were content with that.  

When you graduated, you started working at a muggle flower shop in London, where you rather sneakily used magic to make your flowers the most beautiful in the area.  When the war came around two years later, you didn’t hesitate a moment to fight at your old school.  The battle was hectic and you met many new faces and a few familiar, including your partner during the first half of the battle, Fred Weasley.  He had gotten separated from his brother, and you arrived alone, so there was an unspoken agreement to stick together.

Fred and you worked well together, even in school.  He was your partner on occasion during Potions class, and you quite enjoyed his jokes and company.  Throughout the battle, you and Fred saved each other on multiple occasions, both of you barely avoiding the cold grasp of death.  During it all, a small bit of rubble had hit you as well, leaving a rather ugly cut across the side of your face.  Fred broke his leg when wall collapsed and you blasted as much away from him as you could.  During the calm period, you helped Fred to the Great Hall, where his family took care of him, and you left to finish the battle.  That was the last you saw of Fred.  

After the war ended, you returned to your quiet life, coming to work each morning with a small scar you wore on your face with pride.  Day in and day out, you worked and went back to your flat, to your books and to your cat, which had become your best and one of your few friends.  

One particular Monday, on your day off, you decided to go to your old stomping grounds.  You hadn’t been in Diagon Alley in years.  In fact, you hadn’t been in touch with any sort of magical shop in almost two years, since the battle and since the war drew to an end. 

You entered through the Leaky Cauldron, dipping your head to the patrons you faintly recognized.  As you entered Diagon Alley, a nostalgic feeling washed over you.  Last time you had been there, most of the shops were closed and it was rather drab and dreary, but now it was like when you were a kid.  Bright, bustling, and beautiful.  There were so many witches and wizards, dressed how you used to dress, in cloaks and colorful clothing, pointy hats and odd animals on their shoulders.  Music played loudly from a nearby shop, which you recognized to be the Weird Sisters.  Memories of the Yule Ball faded into your mind and a faint smile formed on your lips as you wandered up the alley. 

You felt out of place, wearing your tight jeans and black band t-shirt, containing a muggle band you were sure few people in the alley around you knew of.  But the wand tucked into the waist of your jeans made you feel like part of them.  As you wandered up the alley, your eyes landed on the one shop you had never been in.  Weasley Wizard Wheezes. 

It was an incredibly fun looking store, one you were sure you would enjoy, but before the war, you only ever came to Diagon Alley when you absolutely needed to, and your time there was short with no time for stops like this.  Now, however, you had all the time in the world.

When you stepped into the shop, it smelled of fireworks and sweets and there were various sounds and flashing lights all around.  It was August still, so there were copious amounts of young students bustling around and laughing at everything around.  Your smile grew as you ran your hand along a display, looking at the bottled love potions and Puking Pastilles, to other products you truly couldn’t have thought up in your most wild dreams. 

As you picked up an odd looking package, you felt someone brush by you and you ignored it, accrediting it to the busy shop, but as you turned over the package in your hand, a voice brought stole your focus.  “Well, hello,” a voice you recognized greeted, causing you to turn to the Weasley twin.  “Here I thought I’d never see you again.”

Fred smiled at you, but held a confused look on his face.  “Loonar Loop Luminators?” you asked him with a small laugh in your voice.  You wondered in the back of your mind what he meant by his words, but you brushed it off for the moment.

Fred glanced down to the package in your hand, as he had not noticed it sooner as his eyes focused on your face.  “A sort of firework,” he answered proudly and took the product from your hand.  “A demonstration, maybe?” 

Shrugging lightly, you followed Fred as he led you to the center of the store.  “All right, you lot, listen up!”  His voice boomed through the store, silencing the many students and grown ups alike.  “I’ll be doing a quick demonstration of our Loonar Loop Luminators, so stand clear,” he continued as he opened the package.  He placed a small blue tube on the ground, using his wand to light the end of it. 

After a few mere seconds, sparks of various colors exploded from the product, reaching the ceiling of the shop and popping into more sparkles.  You clapped, along with the rest of the store, as the fireworks exploded beautifully.  Fred smiled proudly, his arms crossed over his chest, and waited until the last of the sparks faded to speak once more.  “Loonar Loop Luminators can be found over here to the left, in the front of the store,” he finished and swooped down, picking up the expired product.  Fred stepped back over to you, an expectant look on his face.  “What’d you think?” 

“Absolutely brilliant,” you answered with a laugh.  

Fred beamed at your words.  “You see, if you do it in an open area, and not indoors, it will be a much more grand show.  Sparks will fly to the moon, hence the name,” he explained proudly and flashed the box to you, which held a rather smiley moon.

You hummed, a bright look in your eyes.  “I reckon that’s quite the sight.  I might have to leave here with a few myself.”

Fred smirked, glancing at the box in his hand once more.  “Take as many as you want.  I couldn’t bear to charge the person who saved my life,” he explained as he led you to the counter, where he tossed the box in a waste bin.  

With a small laugh, you shrugged and leaned against the counter as his brother, who was two years younger than you, rung up the many guests.  “Well, you saved mine as well, so I had assumed we were even.”  

Fred scoffed, checking his watch for a moment before glancing at his brother.  “Man the shop for a minute, mate?” 

Ron glanced at you and nodded, a smile on his lips.  “Take your time.”

“Got a moment?”  Fred asked you as he nodded towards the door of his shop. 

You glanced at your own watch, pretending to contemplate his words, but shrugged.  “I suppose so.” 

Fred smirked and led you through the shop, out into Diagon Alley.  “I thought you died, you know?”  His voice was a little shaky as he spoke, his hands in the pockets of his colorful suit. 

“Well, here I am,” you replied lamely, giving him a gentle smile and a small shrug.  

With an incredulous look on his face, Fred shook his head at you.  “I mourned you, you know?” 

Your smile fell at his words, causing you to feel oddly guilty.  “Why would you mourn someone you didn’t know to be dead?  Someone you barely know?”  The words came out a little harsher than you intended, but as Fred led you up Diagon Alley, walking slowly through the crowd, you were sure he understood. 

“I want to know you,” Fred said suddenly, his voice insistent.  Your mouth fell open, rather surprised by his words, and waited for him to continue.  “I always have.  That’s why I always convinced others to let me be your partner in class, why I spoke to you as much as I could without bothering you, why I wanted to stay by your side during the battle.”  Your face felt warm at his confession and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.  

With a gentle blush on your face, you ducked your head and smiled to yourself. “Well, here I am,” you repeated the words you said moments before and glanced up at Fred.

Fred smiled widely at your words, raising his eyebrows.  “Will you let me take you to dinner, then?” 

For a moment, you bit your lip and pretended to consider his offer.  After a brief pause, you spoke softly, “I suppose so.”

“Brilliant,” Fred smirked and stood with his hands in his pockets.  “Meet you here at the shop tomorrow?  Say seven?” 

Nodding gently, you fought the wide grin forming on your lips.  “It’s a date.”

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Save Me, Please!

A Yandere! All Might x F! Reader Fic~

Chapter 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  ...

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰:

Stalking, gaslighting, phycological manipulation, anything that has to do with the yandere trope.

Weeks later, you completely forgot about the incident. Your life had returned to its normal, average, exceedingly mundane routine.

One night, you were curled up in your apartment when you heard a stray cat pathetically crying out for help. You’re an animal lover, and hearing that pitiful cry sent you into immediate action.

You rushed outside, still in your house clothes, looking for the animal. You didn’t think to bring your phone, a jacket, or anything else, but you just had to help this creature. 

The cat cried on, leading you towards it. You found yourself walking into a darkened, dingy alleyway.

The meowing stopped abruptly. 

“What d’ya think you’re doing here?” a gruff, disgusting voice whispered out. He seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“I-I’m...the cat...” you mumbled. You instinctively covered yourself, not being naked but also not being entirely decent. You were hoping to be in and out, just grabbing the kitten and bringing it to safety.

“Oh. Don’t you know better than to be wandering around outside at night, lil lady?” the man smirked, revealing yellowed, worn teeth. At that moment, the light hit him just right to reveal who he was. He was one of the local creeps, the kind you’d see begging for cash and coins on the corner, wondering why everyone passes him by until you see him up close and smell the strong scent of alcohol and cigarettes coming from him.

You said nothing, still wondering where that cat went. 

“...especially out here all by yerself...” the man continued as he picked at his gums with his grime filled fingernails.

You made eye contact with him. 

“It’d be such a shame if something were to happen to ya, little lady...” he drabbled on. Your hand looked for your phone in your pocket as you backed up and away from the alley. 

“Now, where are ya going? I wasn’t gonna hurt ya none!” he teased, grabbing your wrist. You screamed, trying to yank away your hand.

“Ah, now ya can’t be doin’ none of that,” he grinned. Suddenly, he pointed his index and thumb at you, making a gun like motion. You froze, confused yet somehow understanding.

This was the fucker’s quirk. 

His fingers around your arm became barbed wire, digging and cutting and slicing into your flesh. When you looked up from your bloodied arm, you saw that his hand had morphed into an actual pistol, and it was now pointed directly at your skull.

Tears silently streamed down your face as you looked down, now unable to fight back. 

“Yes, I will be coming in tomorrow ... you won’t need to cancel the class. No, thank you.” you overheard someone on the phone. It was a male’s voice, and you prayed with all your heart that it was a hero out on patrol.

He passed the alley, not even taking a millisecond to glance in your direction. Your heart plummeted.

“...What...what do you want with me?” your voice shuddered. The man said nothing. You looked up at him. 

He was staring intently at something outside of the alley, but you were so fear stricken that you couldn’t bring yourself to look at what it could be. 

Without warning, you were thrown to the ground, and the man was running away. You sat up, clutching your injured arm, trying to get answers, but everything happened in a flash before your eyes. 

All you saw was blood. Lots of it. Too much.

You couldn’t worry about that now, though. You had to get away. 

You got up, scraping your soft, white palms, rushing out and away from that damned alley. At this point, you didn’t give a shit what happened. All you know is that you’re alive.

You scrambled up your stairs, slamming and locking your door. You pushed a chair in front of it, switched all your lights on, and slept with your biggest kitchen knife under your pillow.

The very next day, the news reporter plainly read off of her script, letting everyone know that a local homeless man was brutally murdered last night. 

“We don’t have many details surrounding the motive, but we have reason to believe that this was a spontaneous spur of the moment killing,” she stated. 

“Now, back to the weather today with Susan Straham!” a male voice boomed, panning over to a perky weather lady. You shut off the tv and rubbed your arm. The door was still locked and bolted shut, the chair still propped up. You shuddered at the memory. 

Despite your discomfort, the day still had to go on. You left for work, listening to music as you walked.

Up ahead, you spotted a familiar figure. All Might. 

He didn’t notice you at first, but when he did, he basically picked you up, hugging you.

“I told you I’d see you again!” he beamed. People stopped to stare.

You put your hands out in front of you to signal him to tone it down a notch or two. Or a hundred.

He didn’t get what you were hinting at, though, and gleefully continued to absolutely shower you in attention. 

Suddenly, he stopped speaking. You tugged down on your shirt sleeve, realizing he probably noticed your battle wounds from last night. 

His tone completely changed as he monotonly asked if you heard about last night’s murder.

He eyed you, now walking with you to work. 

You didn’t mention what happened. It’s not like it could have been connected or anything, right? ...Right?

Finally, you arrived at work. 

“I hate to say goodbye again,” he frowned. You shrugged.

“Well, it’s not like this is the last time you’ll ever see me, ya know,” you mumbled. 

“What makes you so sure of that?” he asked. Your blood ran cold for a split second.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you never know what can happen. Stay safe, okay? I...don’t know what I’ll do if I never see you again,” he frowned. You were blown away by his sudden change of tone and his seriousness and said nothing. 

You just waved, entering your workplace and taking the elevator up. All Might lingered there at the entrance for a few moments, watching you go higher and higher, until he left, too.

A couple days went by with nothing interesting happening. Your arm was healing up nicely, and you were starting to feel okay in your apartment again. 

Today, you went to your usual coffee shop, and the barista informed you that someone had already paid for your drink in advance. 

“How could they have? I’m the only one in here,” you asked. The barista shrugged, just repeating that you didn’t owe them anything. 

Maybe the barista was just trying to flirt. That’d make sense. 

Definitely. That has to be it.

It wasn’t until that weekend when you realized that you had been seeing All Might patrolling in your area a lot more than usual. No matter how many times he’d see you, though, he’d always have the same over-the-top reaction. It was definitely endearing, in a way, but the attention you got from others was embarrassing enough for you to shrug away from it.

You had to admit, though, feeling another human’s touch was something refreshing. For years, you’ve been locked up in your tiny one bedroom apartment by yourself, just wishing that you could find someone. 

You joined a dating app not too long ago, which has been pretty hit or miss.

Maybe you would meet someone soon. Hopefully, at least.

[hikarimiyanaga]

I'll Always Be Yours (Part 5)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Fifth Song: Dahan (Gently)

You stop trying to fight your stubborn heart. Just wanting to live a lonely life without her.

A/N: Officially completed and I'm starting on my Wanda fic now!!

Might take weeks to finish that one though...

Oh well.

Dialogues that are in parenthesis are spoken in Japanese.

Warning: Angst

No more tears

I won't force it anymore

You are my love

Until eternity

No more listening

My mind is confused

I hope you know

You are the one I love

-

You hum as you draw. It took you a week until you can finally draw your sketches again. Another week to pick up a paintbrush and actually paint.

It’s been four months since then. Your only missing at least two more paintings so you could open another art exhibit. You hum as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Shouldn’t you stop?” You raise an eyebrow at Silvia.

“That’s your third cup already and it’s only 11 am.” You shrug at her and continue sketching.

“Will the last one be Natasha?” You stop and contemplate Miyuki’s words. You haven’t sketched her since you broke down.

“Most probably.” You’ll probably use one of your older sketches. The ones where the woman you draw was the one you knew. Not Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow and Avenger but just Natalia, the little girl who turned into a gorgeous woman. Natalia whom you loved with your every being.

“Maybe sell it this time?” You frown at Silvia. “You rejected the last offer for the portrait!” You shrug. “It was 20 million!” Miyuki whistles at you and you smile.

“I still don’t want anyone to monopolize her.” Silvia sighs in defeat and Miyuki consoles her.

-

You start painting her portrait again and you can’t help but smile. You just hope that wherever she is. Whomever she was with. That you’re still holding onto your promise with her. You’ll always be waiting for her. Loving her. You stretch your body as you pause for the day. You really did meant forever.

“Silvia?” Silvia opens your door and peeks inside.

“Yeah?”

“Can you contact Professor Asuna? See if there’s any willing gallery that I can rent for a week?”

“Okay. Got it.”

“Thanks, even though you’re only my bodyguard.”

“It’s called assisting. I do that too.”

“I know!” You chuckle as she closes the door. You open your phone and lay down on the floor. You begin watching videos of the love of your life.

-

“Natasha.” Nat ignores Clint and stares at her portrait. “Hey.”

“What?”

“There’s a kid that wants to interview you?” Natasha sighs and turns around.

“Why?”

“About the painting, I think.”

“Where?”

“In front of Mona Lisa.”

-

Natasha approaches the kid who smiles at her.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Colette. A big fan of Master Y/N.”

“Have you met her?” Natasha sits besides the kid and they both look at Mona Lisa.

“Yes. Many times. Through her exhibitions. Never got to buy any of original painting though, just the postcards one.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just answers.”

“To what?”

“Do you and Master Y/N know each other?”

“Knew.” Natasha answers with a sigh. “Before I became an Avenger, I knew her.” Colette hums.

“To what extent?”

“What?”

“Your relationship? Friends? Lovers? Enemies?”

“Lovers.” Natasha says with a sad smile.

“Ah. I knew it.”

“What do you mean?” Colette shrugs and smiles.

“Do you know that she still loves you?” Natasha gulps and looks at Colette. Colette smiles and gives Natasha an envelope. “It’s all just postcards but you can compare them to your portrait here. The strokes and the color aren’t matching. She must’ve spent days on your portraits and only hours on the landscapes. Granted they’re the ones she sells all the time.”

“She never sells my portraits?” Colette chuckles.

“Never. She said to a buyer once that she doesn’t want anyone to monopolize you. That you’re better taken care of if you’re seen by the world.” Colette bids her goodbye and Natasha looks at the miniature version of your paintings, she goes back to her portrait and her heart stops. Colette was right.

You do still love her. She can’t stop her smile and Clint smiles at her.

“You okay?” Natasha smiles.

“I’m good.”

-

And if it’s not for me

The love that you offer

Then I won’t hope anymore

To be kissed again

-

You sigh as Silvia and Miyuki cuddle each other while you were behind them. You insisted on this arrangement so you could deny that you know them. You pay attention to the screen and flinches when Steve appears. He says that warning that every movie theater does before showing the movie itself. You sigh and you look and see that the two are looking at you. You chuck them a piece of your popcorn and they look at the screen.

-

“The movie was so good!” You yawn as Silvia gushes about the movie.

“Yeah!” Miyuki agrees as you stretch your body.

“Boss? You going back?”

“Yep. You two go on a date or something.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. I’ll go take a nap before painting.”

“How many more days till you finish it?” You grin at them.

“Probably just one more.”

-

You wake up and see Natasha’s portrait staring down at you. You yawn and smile. Your phone rings and you see that it’s Asuna.

(“Hey.”)

(“You ready for it?”)

(“Yup. I’m just going to have the final one in center.”) Asuna hums.

(“Another portrait of her?”) You look at it and smile.

(“Always.”) After you hang up, you send an email to Tony Stark, confirming his invitation to your new exhibition.

-

Slowly release

My heart can't resist

Because once you left

It’s been Extremely difficult

-

You put on your suit and hum at yourself. You clean up nice.

“Is that an appreciative hum for my fashion sense or are you just being narcissistic?” Silvia asks and you roll your eyes. You get out of your room and Asuna smiles at you.

(“Finally. After hours.”)

(“Only an hour. Don’t compare me to you.”) Asuna gasps and Miyuki snickers.

(“Hush, you. Now, come on.”) You smile as you all leave the Ryokan and into your gallery. You laugh as you look around and your new paintings are displayed.

(“Asuna! Thank you! This is amazing!”)

(“On such short notice too.”)

(“Anything for the master. As long as you save me one painting.”)

(“Pick one.”)

(“Wait, seriously?”)

(“Yeah? There are a lot more than the usual so pick one.”)

(“This one then.”) She presents the portrait and you raise an eyebrow.

(“Anything except that one.”) They laugh and you shake your head.

(“This one then.”)

(“Ah. Your hometown?”) Asuna hums and you nod at her.

(“It’s yours. I’ll tell Norah not to auction that one.”)

(“Thank you, Y/N.”) She hugs you and you smile.

(“Okay, then! Two more hours till we open the doors!”) Miyuki shouts and you smile.

-

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course.”

“It’s your call.” Natasha hums as she approaches the gallery with Tony.

-

You smile as visitors gush about your paintings. Exhibitions are still the one thing that you do make an appearance at. You were about to be approached when you see her. Natasha… she’s alone and looking at her portrait. Your heart beats faster and everything seemed to close in on you. FUCK. She’s here. DAMN IT!

“Boss?” Silvia calls out but you don’t hear her. “Y/N?” She shakes you and you finally look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Air.” You simply answer and Silvia nods. She escorts you out of the gallery and Miyuki follows after.

-

You clutch your chest as you try to breathe normally.

“In and out, Y/N.” Silvia guides you through your sudden attack.

“Did something trigger it?”

“Not something.” You answer with hoarse voice then drink the water that Silvia gave you. “Someone.”

“Natasha?” You nod in confirmation. “Damn it.” You stop Silvia from going back inside.

“Don’t kick her out. Don’t be rude.”

“Then-“

“I’ll leave. I’ll come back tomorrow.” They nod and you sigh. “Tell them that I got sick or something. Just go.”

“You’ll be okay by yourself?” You nod and bid them goodbye. You walk back to the Ryokan to clear your head.

-

Natasha looks at the stage where Asuna got a hold of the mic.

(“I’m sorry to announce that Master Y/N cannot be here tonight.”) She hears disappointed murmurs go through the crowd. (“It seems that she suddenly got sick and had to leave early. She did say though that she’ll try her best to be here tomorrow.”) Asuna gives back the mic to the Dj and goes among the crowd again.

Natasha tries to find her and sees that Tony actually got to her first.

“Excuse me, Miss-?”

“Ah. Yuuki. Asuna Yuuki.” Natasha shakes her hand and they nod.

“What exactly happened to Master Y/N?”

“I don’t exactly know. Her bodyguards just told me that she got sick and left early.”

“Is she okay? Did something bad happen? Where is she-?” Tony gets ahold of her arm.

“Okay. Sorry for the sudden barrage miss Yuuki. We’ll be going now.” Tony drags Natasha away from Asuna.

-

I will not allow it anymore

You hurt me

That again and forget

Our past

Can't you hear

My chest throbbed

It's getting away from you

My feelings

-

You take a deep breath and fix your suit.

(“You ready, Y/N?”)You nod at Asuna and she opens the doors to your gallery once again. People immediately flock to you. They’re asking how you’re feeling. Some about the paintings. Some about the portrait.

“PEOPLE!” Silvia’s booming voice freeze them and she drags you away from them. (“Stop mobbing the master! She’ll talk to you if she’s feeling any better! Understood?”) They nod simultaneously and Miyuki gives you a glass of water.

“You okay?” You nod and drink the glass in one go.

“You sure about that?” You nod again and give the empty glass back to Miyuki.

“I’m fine now.” You tell them and go to a visitor.

-

You’ve managed to avoid both Tony and Natasha as you talk to everyone else and it’s the last day of your exhibition.

“Miss Y/LN.” You hum as Tony approaches you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You’re with miss Romanoff.”

“Ah… do you not like her?” You scoff.

“It’s nothing.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You sigh and wave your hand.

“As I promised, a million dollars.” He gives you a check and you shake your head.

“No. The exhibition is free for all. Keep it.”

“You sure?” You nod. “Then I’ll just have to bid all of your paintings.” You chuckle.

“And where will you put them?”

“Avengers’ Compound and Stark Industries.” You hum. He bids his goodbye and you smile.

-

You laugh as Tony bid 5 million on the last painting that Norah auctioned… he just spent 125 million dollars on all of your paintings.

“How about the portrait? A special gift for someone who just got you 125 million?” You go to the stage and Norah gives you the mic.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. But that portrait will be donated, not bought.”

“Come on, Y/LN!” Silvia growls and you put up your hand to stop her. “125 million! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“It means everything Mr. Stark. But that woman in those portraits also meant everything to me.” You get off the stage and get something from Miyuki.

“Instead of that, please accept this.” You give him the canvas that is covered.

“And this is?”

“A painting for her. I know she’s with you.”

“She had to leave early tonight because of an emergency mission.” You smile.

“And you can just half all of your bids, I don’t mind.”

“No. You earned those 125 million. Pepper will be happy with these pieces.” You hum.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell her not to come looking for me again.” You bid him goodbye and leave.

-

Tony tried to find you again but he huffs in frustration. You were too good at hiding your own trail. He hoped to find you before Natasha gets back from her mission but as he hears the Quinjet land softly, he knew that he failed. He runs a hand through his hair and look at your paintings.

You really were a master.

[hybridfanfiction]

Owner Training - 9

- Lonely Kitten - 

If there was anything that made you hate having to get up at the crack of dawn to go to work besides the fact that you were actually going to work , it was the sight that greeted you when you went to say your goodbyes for the day.

Yoongi was curled up on the right side of the bed, the blankets pulled up so much you could barely see his face. He looked so comfortable and cozy, and you wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and let his soft purrs lull you back to sleep.

Yoongi suddenly does that weird snore/snort combo he does when he’s jolted from sleep, and he turns to the other side, now facing the doorway. His eyes are still closed but your heart flutters a little when he tugs some blankets back like he’d worried he’d pulled them off of you.

You grin and walk up to him, bending over to press a small kiss to his forehead. He cracks one eye open and looks up at you sleepily.

“Work?” he mumbles, his voice adorably slurred.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll see you later, kay?”

He hums and smacks his lips. “Don’t stay too late. You’ve been working too much.”

He had a point. You’ve already worked nine days straight this week and you were going crazy.

“I won’t. Today should be an easy day.”

How he manages to project so much skepticism with just one eye is a mystery.

“Promise?”

“Sure, baby. I promise. Love you.”

“Love,” is all he manages to mumble before he falls back asleep.

****

The thing about your job is that...you hate it. You’d gone into this job expecting to be able to make a difference. That you’d find abandoned kids great homes, bring families together, or...you didn’t even know. It was a lot of rainbows and unicorns. The reality of it was that you saw a lot of kids being given back to abusive homes because their dad passed an anger management class, only to be back in the system six months later. Parents would take each other to court over visitation rights, and only relent when they received even more money from the other. And those were just some of the more mild issues. Basically, this job had opened your eyes to the fact that people were monsters.

And on top of the actual work, was the fact that your seniors and boss made your life a hell. Instead of treating you with the respect due to you as a fellow lawyer with the same shiny degrees as them, they instead handed their work off on you or made you do menial tasks like you were just another paralegal ( NOT to shit on paralegals either - their job was hella hard too).

You didn’t even have your own office! You were just another desk in the sea of paralegals and secretaries. When you’d brought it up at your last review, you’d been told it was because you were the new hire and you had to work your way up. Well, you’d been working here for several years now, and the hotshot young guy straight out of Yale that they’d hired a year ago already had a private office and his own secretary.

Literally, the only thing keeping you going these days was the fact that you needed the money and you didn’t know what else to do. At least you had Yoongi waiting for you at home to look forward to.

“L/N, I’m going to need your help with these pleadings. Need them done for tomorrow. Thanks,” Johnson, one of the lawyers you hated the most, threw a pack of client interview notes on your desk and struts off without even giving you a chance to reply.

You sigh and look at the packet, debating setting them on fire and walking out of the building like a boss. But then he’d just complain to the big boss, who would call you in and give you a talking to. It all seemed like too much of a hassle. (You knew you were being bullied for being the only female lawyer here - it was ridiculous and sexist. Like, hello? Is this 1924? No.)

You’d get out of here eventually. Somehow. For now, you simply pull the packets closer and get to work.

Yoongi is going to kill you.

****

When you arrive home and finally kick off your heels with a happy sigh, it suddenly hits you that your apartment is silent. No TV, no booming rap music, not even the blessed sounds of cooking that your empty stomach had been looking forward to.

“Yoongi?”

“Nice of you to join us.”

You jump as he mumbles the words, finally pinpointing him in the corner of the dining room. He’s lounging in one of the chairs with his arms folded, his eyes screaming his disappointment.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry.”

“Late, she says. It’s past midnight,” he scoffs.

“I know! I was going to leave earlier but I got stuck with some extra work.”

“You promised.”

His tone hurts you and you feel horrible.

He reaches out his hand, looking you dead in the eye...and pushes your vase of wildflowers right onto the floor.

The glasses crashes everywhere and he merely sits back and looks at the mess with a slight smirk.

“What the fuck, Yoongi?”

He shrugs. “It was in my way.”

“Why do you... aw hell ,” you whisper, feeling tears well in your eyes.

Suddenly, he leans foreword, looking at you with alarm. “Why the fuck are you crying? No, wait , stop that.”

“I’m so so-sorry,” you hiccup, as your tears turn to wails. “I’m a horrible person and a horrible girlfriend. I can’t do anything right. I’m a failure.”

Yoongi rushes to you and crouches down, pulling you into his chest.

“No, you’re amazing. The best. I’m just throwing a tantrum like a baby because I miss you. I’m sorry, I’ll be better,” he croons, petting your back frantically in an attempt to comfort you.

You lean into his touch and let yourself cry until chest and throat throb in pain too much to continue. Yoongi presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Better?” me mutters, and you nod your head, finally looking up at him. His eyes are red too, with tear tracks down his cheek. You swipe at them and he kisses your hand.

“Sorry,” you whisper hoarsely, and he shakes his head.

“No need. I’m sorry I was being a brat.”

“You have a point though. I’m never home.”

“Because you’re literally working to take care of us.”

“Yeah, but...even I know that they are working me too much. I’ve never been so stressed in my life, Yoongi. And today I had to literally watch some kid cry and be torn away from the foster family that’s been raising him since he was two weeks old and be given to his druggie mother who he’s seen once in three years. I just...how is that okay?”

“It’s not. Not everyone has as big a heart as you, love.”

You grunt and relax into his touch as he pets your hair soothingly.

“If you could find something else, what would you do?”

You consider the question. “I’m not sure. I think there’s still a part of me that desires to help and make a difference, but then there’s the me that’s been at this for awhile that isn’t sure that’s realistic. I’d still work in law, but...I don’t know. I don’t know who would actually need me.”

He hums and tilts your head up. “Want some tea?”

“Yes please,” you smile softly as he stands up and reaches out a hand to help you up.

He peeks sheepishly at the glass and gestures for you to go sit on the couch.

“I’ll clean it up”

“Seriously though, Yoongi. My vase?”

“Honestly, I’ve been feeling the urge to push that off the table for a few days and I just used that as an excuse. I’ve also been eyeing the wine glass display, but I’ve held off since I actually use those,” he chuckled on his way to the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare. Bad Kitty.”

“Kinky,” he hums, then you hear the click of the electric kettle.

You wait in silence, exhausted after your outburst of emotion. Truthfully, it was probably long-due. A few minutes later Yoongi returns and hands you a mug full of lemon and ginger tea, blowing on his own mug as he settles in next to you.

“I had a thought,” he rumbles after taking a sip.

“Finally,” you snort, grinning when he pinches you.

“You never call in sick or go anywhere so you probably have a shit load of vacation time saved up, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I should have at least a couple weeks worth. I usually just cash out at the end of the year.”

“Take it. Let’s go on vacation. No sense killing yourself over a job you hate, and I want to spend some time with you.”

You sigh, leaning into Yoongi’s warmth. “Yeah, you’re right. Where shall we go?”

He shrugs. “Jeju? I don’t know. I don’t care as long as it’s somewhere with a nice bed and I get to see you in a bikini”

You pinch him and he laughs unapologetically.

“You know I love you right? No matter how much I’m away or if we are having some stupid fight - I love you,” you ask, your voice soft and a little shy.

He picks up your free hand and places a kiss on the back of it, squeezing it gently.

“I love you too, even when I’m being a brat or when you forget to pick up ice cream.”

“Wow, that’s deep.”

“What can I say?” he shrugs. “I’m a man of refined tastes.”

****

Notes:

Why are my cats always knocking shit off my counters?

Also, I had a few requests from people who wanted to send me fanart. You can email it to me at smirksslayme@gmail.com or tag me on here. I’d love to see it.

I think I have a twitter made but I can't remember it right now lmao. If anyone wants that I'll try to find it later.

[jeogiyall]

Pas De Deux; H.HJ

Word Count; 9.7k

Genre; Fluff, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Reader X Hyunjin

Warnings; Swearing, Suggestive, I would advise against reading if you have abandonment issues? It’s brought up a few times,,

Additional; Featured Chan, Felix, Jisung, and Minho; Ballerina Reader, Dance Partner Hyunjin, Reid once again writing about something that she has no idea how to do, (Sort Of) Slow Burn

A/N; when i tell u guys that i literally have no self control,, THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THIS WAS 10.46K ASFDSFS someone save me from myself. i’m sorry if anything’s inaccurate, i haven’t done ballet since i was like five and most of my research is from the unreliable internet,,, so if any ballerinas read this and are repulsed i’m sorry asdfdsa. please leave something nice if you enjoy <3<3<3<3

The last time that you saw Hwang Hyunjin was in fifth grade. You were wrapped up in each other on your front porch, him choking out tears as though it hurt. 

“Jinnie!” You cooed while running a hand through his short black hair, “I’m not dying, just going to boarding school!” His cries (along with the ringing guilt in your ears) only grew louder, “You’re really good at dancing, just audition next year!” He shook his head fervently against the crook of your shoulder, wet tears falling onto your skin.

“You know I suck at ballet!” If it weren’t for his palms pulling at his teary cheeks you would’ve giggled, maybe even teased him for the time in class that he almost broke his wrist while warming up at the barre. But he was crying, he was sad, and he was convinced that he’d never see you again. The sight alone was enough to make you pout, which only served to make him cry harder, “You could join my contemporary class for the summer?” He asked with starry, red eyes. It was almost enough to make you say yes.

“You know that I suck at contemporary!” The boy giggled at your counter, a sound that made your heart soar amidst all of the crying.

“Yea, you do...” He brought a hand up to his cheeks, trying desperately to wipe away tears that wouldn’t stop falling, “Just promise that you won’t forget me! I won’t forget you so you can’t forget me!” His pinky finger extended so it was nearly brushing the spot in between your eyebrows, and you were hit by the whispers of your first crush. With the summer days spent riding scooters in your driveway, and the winter ones spent sledding in it. With the long nights spent giggling about nothing underneath a blanket fort, or the endless days spent climbing trees in the bottomless woods behind the boys house. You were hit with the last five years all at once, and you knew instantly that even if he wasn’t standing in front of you with a teary face that you would still promise.

“I promise.” You answered while hooking your pinky in his as if it were a vow.

The school ended up being a perfect fit, your favorite part being the dorm room all to yourself. Even though it was small, and very ugly, it was all yours. Just like the friend group that blossomed out of your first ever co-ed class (which is sadly not a very interesting story. Han Jisung just made you swear to not dislocate his shoulders during partner stretches, and who are you to break a promise? Afterwards you received an invite to sit with him and his friend at lunch, the rest is history. Loud, annoying history.)

Nothing could’ve made it better... Well, nothing except for your sweet friend who had once occupied each thought in your head. Your sweet friend who’s summers were suddenly too full to see you, even for just a day. 

Your sweet friend who didn’t keep his promise.

* 

When it was announced that the contemporary and ballet branches of your dance institute would be merging for a year, your mind immediately jumped to Hyunjin. Despite not seeing him for almost six years. He always had such a passion for the style, making you miss out on hours of homework to watch videos of his favorite performers (it’s not like you minded too much, though.)

Han’s, on the other hand, was pure rage. Pure rage which he was letting out from your bed while watching you unpack.

“I just don’t get why they have to take a ballet class too! I have enough trouble getting solos as is.” The boy pouts while resting his head on your orange wood headboard. You’d feel sympathetic if it weren’t for the fact that he was blatantly lying, Han Jisung had gotten nearly every solo since eighth grade. Instead you roll your eyes dramatically and throw him a wadded ball of fabric from your suitcase. Naturally, he screams.

“Shut the fuck up and be helpful.” You scold, earning a childish whine while he sits up to fold the countless leotards. 

“Remind me why I missed you?” He grumbles just as your other, much nicer, friend walks into the cramped room.

“Aww, you missed me Sungie?” Felix asks, voice booming deeply through the space. The two of you instantly drop the clothes in your hands and run to the boy, which you should reprimand Jisung for seeing as he just lifted a finger. But you don’t, because Felix is here with more freckles than the last time you saw him and fresh pink hair that’s definitely going to be dyed natural again within the first week.

“Yes.” The energetic boy answers while worming his way into your hug. Felix giggles softly while petting Han’s dark brown hair before pressing noisy kisses all over his cheeks. He pokes Felix’s ribs as retaliation, to which the boy screeches (directly into your ear, might I add,) and it’s back to the normal, loud chaos “I will kill you!”

“Hey! No murder in my room, if you’re gonna do that go in the hallway!” You snap playfully, pushing Jisung away while moving back into the hug, “Help me unpack? Jisung hasn’t done shit.”

“Not fair!” The boy shouts from your bed, which he’s already plopped back down on.

“I’ll help, besides do you even want him folding your clothes?” You look over your shoulder to see Jisung with his hands tangled up in three different leotards, then back to Felix with terrified eyes. 

‘No,’ you mouth, eliciting another laugh from your friend. He moves over to the bed as well, then sets Jisungs hands free. The three of you talk mindlessly for hours, rambling on about Felix’s summer home and the month that you and Jisung spent traipsing around the boys hometown.

“How do you feel about the merger?” You ask suddenly, cutting Jisung off in the middle of an embarrassing story about a night spent at his house. Felix sighs deeply while tossing you the rolled leotard (your favorite one, light blue with pearls sewn around the collar,) while Jisung throws a wadded up pair of tights at your face.

“It’s fine I guess, just for a year right?” You shrug while the brunette puts on a grimace, hands suddenly very busy with folding, “They really need that rebuild, building’s falling apart. Ours is way better and we have extra room, so why not share?” 

“Tell that to the rat in my mini fridge.” Han grumbles while passing you a pile of black leotards. You laugh and accept, but not before ruffling his stiff hair. 

“Okay, I’ll make sure to do that the next time I’m in your room. Are you done bitching now?” The brunette pokes his tongue out at you jokingly, to which you respond with blowing a raspberry, “Felix is right, besides how terrible is it going to be? We’re all dancers right, and stuff like that is meant to be shared. Who are we to say that they can’t come and learn?” The room turns uncomfortably quiet, Jisung gnawing at his lower lip while Felix picks up his phone.

“Damn it!” The Australian exclaims as his screen lights up. You and Han look at him with furrowed eyebrows before he rolls his eyes and brings the phone up in between your faces, “Administration says I have to fix my hair.” 

Han doubles over with laughter, knocking the mountain of leotards (followed shortly by himself) onto the floor. You follow his lead, and before you know it the three of you are clutching your sides and wiping away happy tears. Felix’s hands ruffle into your hair with a hum, “Maybe I can try Jisungs color, hmm?” You duck away with a snort.

“No! I draw the line at matching hair!” The brunette defends, hands moving to cover the top of his head. Felix lunges at him, fully ready to engage in a tickle fight. Naturally, Jisung screams as if he’s being murdered. It should be annoying, any other time you would find it annoying. But these are your best friends, one of which you haven’t seen in over a month, and for some odd reason your heart feels so full that it could explode. 

“C’mon Lix, I’ll do your hair. What do you think about blonde?” 

And even though tomorrow your school is going to be flooded with new people, and your classes full of students who have probably never done more than basic positions, in the moment it feels okay. Because one of your best friends is screaming ‘NO DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!’ while the other assures him that ‘It’ll probably most likely be okay! Look, she did mine!’ It’s a perfect chaos that you wouldn’t trade for anything.

*    

There have been plenty of strange coincidences in your life. Like how your first dog was named Felix, and it’s now the name of one of your best friends (who’s hair ended up looking perfectly fine, thank you very much.) Or how your usual waiter at the diner in Jisungs hometown ended up being the cousin of your first kiss. Or how your dorm room is the only one on the hall with painted walls, that just so happen to be your favorite color. Plenty of weird things, but none are as weird as this. Because you’re sitting on the floor of your second class of the day, ‘Intro To Pas De Deux,’ and Hwang Hyunjin has just entered through the side door. Two minutes late.

He’s hard to recognize at first, seeing as there’s more than an added foot of height and black hair that’s creeping down the back of his neck, but the more you look the more you recognize. Pillowy lips, full cheeks, a freckle right in the set of his eye bags. You’re not entirely sold until he laughs, a sweet and breathy sound. The laugh that’s always been three seconds away from turning into a wheeze.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung questions while pulling himself up by your hands, eyes following the line that yours draw to Hyunjin, “Do you know him or something?” 

You’re about to answer when Hyunjin finally turns around, eyes scanning the room before settling on you. He thinks that you look different, too. Taller and slimmer, everything that used to be squishy replaced with soft muscle. But there’s also the bridge of your nose, your hands that are barely gripping Jisungs, and of course your eyes that are staring at him like it hurts. 

“(Y/n?)” He questions, your name falling from his lips as though it’s meant to do so. You nod, mouth falling open dumbly. The boy takes a step forward then freezes.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on? Or at least help me finish stretching?” Jisungs voice reeks of annoyance, you think that if you weren’t in such a state of shock that you’d flick him on the forehead.

“You go to the contemporary school?” Jisung doesn’t take well to being ignored, puffing loudly while scrambling to finish stretching at the barre. Your brain immediately flashes back to Hyunjins second ballet class in third grade, when you were teaching him your favorite warm up stretches. He ended up tangled in between the barre and the wall, which shouldn’t even be possible, but Hyunjin managed. 

“Um... Yea.” Every inch of your body is screaming to stand up and engulf him in a hug, but your legs feel like jello. That, and there’s a small feeling of anger rising in your throat, “L-let me help.” He plops down in front of you before you can say yes. You don’t have to though, Hyunjin still knows that you can’t refuse him. You take his hands in yours, definitely ignoring the pink flush to his cheeks, and pull his torso towards you. 

“It’s been six years.” The words come out choked, full of the pain from your first summer without him. When you’d spend hours playing out in the sun, knocking on your friends front door every morning. He was never there. 

“Sorry.” You want him to show some type of emotion, let you know that he cares. That he’s actually sorry for breaking his promise, “I tried to come and see you in July but you weren’t home.” 

“I was at Jisung’s house, we spend the summers together.” If you were more angry and less hurt you would say ‘now that I don’t spend them with you,’  but he’s still Hyunjin. He’s still Hyunjin, and you don’t think that you could handle the way he would frown at your snide remark. 

Jisung flashes you a look from his place at the barre that reads ‘Who is this guy and why do you look so sad?’ You let Hyunjin pull you into the stretch while responding with a gaze that says ‘I’ll tell you later.’  Hyunjins grip tightens on your hands as you exhale deeply into the stretch, the light blue fabric of your leotard brushing against the dance studio floor.

“(Y/n,) I-” Maybe it’s the way that he licks his lips before talking, or the fact that he looks so much and so little like your best friend at the same time, or possibly even how you can feel the way that he hugged you at your last meeting sitting on your shoulders like a winter coat, but his hands suddenly feel like fire.

“I have to go!” You exclaim, popping up out of the stretch and onto your feet in one swift motion. The boy looks up at you with puppy dog eyes that spark a feeling so intense in you that you have to look away, “I have to go, I-I’ll um... I’ll see you around.” You dash off to the spot in front of Jisung, silently thanking every star in the sky that Hyunjin doesn’t have a chance to follow you. Because just as soon as you get up someone else sits down and begins to excitedly ask the boy questions (he’s short, with a petite frame and an unfamiliar face. Probably another transfer student.)

“Did he say something to you?” Jisung asks as you jump into your favorite warm up routine. There’s not really a right way to answer, because did he say anything just now? No, but six years ago he said that he’d never forget you. He promised as much, and then spent every moment doing nothing but that. You exhale while your feet continue to move instinctively, a slight sense of peace washing over you at the comfort of a routine. 

“We should focus, class is starting soon.” Jisung whines and argues, but you just ignore him. Similarly to how you ignore Hyunjins gaze on you for the rest of the class. 

*

Ignoring Hyunjin is much easier than you anticipated. In class you can distract yourself with Jisung before the teacher comes in, and lunch is fine enough. While he is there, sitting at a table that’s painfully close to yours, he doesn’t try to talk. Or worse, come and snatch up the free seat across from Felix. But no, he does nothing of the sort. Just laughs with his friends and shoots the occasional glance your way (the one composed of sparkly eyes and lips that are a breath away from pouting.)

But then there’s now, standing in the doorway of your stage chemistry class and Hyunjin is all that you can see. Hyunjin, standing in the center of the room and pressing play on the terribly outdated stereo. Hyunjin, running a hand through his raven black hair and inhaling deeply with closed eyes. All you wanted was to get your jacket, but now you have enough Hyunjin for a lifetime.

Loud, bass heavy music swells in the room as he starts to move. At first the movements are jerky, awkward almost. But then the music decrescendos every so softly and he exhales, then proceeds to move as if the dance is being pulled out of him. As if this choreo is the way that he was programmed to move. When the song peaks you swear that you feel tears prickling the back of your eyes, because this is so Hyunjin. The way he’s dancing with every bone in his body, the way his hair is now dripping in sweat and flying all around him, the way his plump lips suck in air. It’s Hyunjin down to the core, and you’ve missed him so much.

When the music dies you clap slowly, causing the boy to shoot up like a frightened cat. He whips around to where you stand, softening like butter when he sees your frame leaned up against the wooden door frame.

“You scared me!” He shrieks, bringing up a hand to clutch his chest. It reminds you of your last Halloween with him, when the two of you got to trick or treat alone. Hyunjin decided that it would be a great idea to go to a fear farm, in which he screeched and clung to you the entire time. It wasn’t even that scary, he’s just a baby.

“Sorry.” You answer, mouth going as dry as the desert, “You, um... You’re really good.” He laughs flatly while moving over to his dance bag to pull out a towel. You watch as he dabs the sweat away, something stupid and needy churning in your stomach. You write it off as hunger.

“Thanks, I still suck at ballet though.” It’s a joke, you know it’s a joke, but something about laughing feels wrong.

“You don’t.” You take a step into the room, wandering over to where your windbreaker is piled on the floor next to the boy, “I’ve seen you in class, and you’re not bad. Just out of practice.” He lets out another flat laugh while dropping the towel, quickly exchanging it with a water bottle.

“Yea, about nine years out of practice. I barely even remember how to do a pirouette.” He’s trying so hard to make you laugh, just like the old days. The growing tension in your shoulders and lump in your throat is preventing that from happening.

“I can teach you.” You offer while shrugging the jacket on. Within seconds he’s babbling out excuses, which you wave off, “Don’t even worry about it, I need to practice anyways.” You bend down to untie your sneakers before moving to the center of the room, Hyunjin following in quick succession, “So you obviously know the proper foot technique, pointed toes only and all of that. And the retire position is just your foot in the notch above your knee.” You demonstrate it in the mirror, and even though he’s far from being a ballerina he’s done enough classes to know that you want him to copy it, “Yea, good. It looks good.”

“Where are my shoulders supposed to be?” He asks shyly, not used to questioning such simple things.

“Back, always back. Now check that your hips aren’t tilted, I-I’ve always been told to imagine that they’re a fruit bowl.” You steal a quick glance at the boy while he’s adjusting, heart fluttering the same way that it did so many years ago, “Okay, now um... Now put your feet into fourth position, just like that yea, then bend your knees and push off from your back leg.” You do the turn, a motion so natural that it might as well be brushing your teeth, “Like that, easy peasy!” The boy scoffs while bringing up his arms the same way that you had yours just seconds ago.

“Yea, easy peasy for you!”  A soft giggle falls from your lips, bouncing off the walls of the empty studio (as well as Hyunjins ears.)

“C’mon!” You tease while moving around to face him, a soft smile playing at your lips, “You see me mess up in class all of the time, just go for it. The worst that could happen is being wrong.” He nods, then exhales shakily. When he does the turn it’s a bit wobbly, but definitely not anything worse than what you’ve seen before.

“Oh my god, (Y/n) that was terrible like genuinely awful-” The words feel harsh, but he’s wearing a bright smile and laughing like there’s not a care in the world. You can’t help but laugh too.

“No, no! It was fine!” You assure through a laugh as he gets back into position. From the corner of your eye you see him mouth ‘liar,’ which earns him a harsh flick between the eyes, “Just bring your hips a little more forward like...” It’s instinctual for your hand to fall onto his hipbone, something you’ve done to Felix hundreds of times. The main difference is that when you adjust Felix he usually tells you to fuck off, then softly knees your stomach. When you do it to Hyunjin he audibly chokes and you feel fire ignite beneath your fingertips, “Like this. Now go into fourth and try again, but keep your hips aligned!” The boy nods before sinking into position and pushing up into a flawless turn.

“I did it!” He exclaims, hands flying up like he’s about to hug you, “You were right, you were right I did it!” Something about his wide, excited eyes makes every wall built around your heart crumble into dust. So you accept the hug, once again allowing yourself to fall victim to the sweetness that is Hwang Hyunjin.

“I was what, I was... Did you say right?!” He rolls his eyes at your teasing, trying desperately to pretend like he didn’t miss it. It’s useless, because the way that Hyunjin’s holding you let’s you know that he’s missed you just as much as you have him, “Alright big guy, let me go. I’ve got studying to do and shoes to break in.” He whines lowly, arms trying to grab you as you snake away. 

“Can we get dinner together or something?” He begs, hand briefly tangling itself in yours. You fight down the blush rising to your cheeks while pulling your hand away and stuffing it into your pocket.

“Not tonight, you have to keep practicing those pirouettes! But don’t worry, you’ll be seeing more of me... Partner.” Hyunjin smiles widely at your words, realization settling in as quickly as they leave your mouth.

“Do you mean...?”

“Yes,” You exhale, mentally preparing for another bone crushing hug, “I’ll be your partner for class.” 

Hyunjins hug is almost nice enough that you forget about how annoying Jisung’s going to be when you tell him.

*

It turns out that the friends Hyunjin made are almost as amazing as the ones that you did. Everyone was a little awkward when the two groups first merged, specifically Jisung who was still butt hurt about you switching partners. But then Felix got to talking with Chan (the person who’s been mothering your friend ever since he started at the contemporary institute. From the way they talk, Hyunjin would’ve both starved and failed if it weren’t for the older boy,) and suddenly everyone was meeting in your room on Fridays for a weekly game of uno. 

“Absolutely not, you’re fucking cheating!” Minho (the other new face from your stage chemistry class,) shouts while pointing a finger across the card pile and into Jisungs face. The boy moves to jokingly bite at it, causing Chan’s eyes to go as wide as the moon.

“No, no, no! No murder, and no biting what the hell!” You snort at your new friends bewildered expression while passing a canned sparkling water to Hyunjin. He accepts with a smile before mouthing ‘they’re insane!’ Felix sees and proceeds to nail him in the face with your favorite throw pillow.

“Says the guy who sleeps in socks-” Hyunjin throws the pillow back harshly, causing Chan to damn near pass out. It’s all that you can do to not roll over with laughter.

“My feet get cold.” He grumbles with a pout that makes both you and Minho coo from your spots beside the boy.

“Okay, okay, Minho just pick up the cards and let’s keep going? I’m about to finish!” The boy grumbles angrily, all ‘stupid card game’ and ‘I don’t wanna pick up twenty cards!’ You lock eyes with Chan from across the card pile, taking brief solace in the presence of someone else with a functioning brain.

“So we all know that (Y/n’)s about to win, and that she’s my best friend and favorite duet partner,” Everyone answers him with an immediate ‘rude,’ which makes a girlish giggle bubble up in your throat, “which is why it makes me so terribly sad to do this.” You watch closely as he dramatically pulls a card from his hand then places it on top of the deck, a fat draw four staring you straight in the eyes. Everyone goes silent while watching your face fall drastically.

“Hwang Hyunjin, I am going to-” The room bursts into chaos before you even finish the sentence. In the end there are about twelve fresh bruises, six entirely hoarse sets of vocal chords, and one demolished dorm room. Just a normal Friday night.

Except for the way that your heart stutters when Hyunjin mouths a simple ‘love you’ over the bustling group. That’s not normal, but you think that you like it.

*

“Hyunjin, if you keep your hands there I’m going to fall.” You say to your duet partner, whose hands are wandering aimlessly up your torso. They’re supposed to be on your hips, serving as an anchor for your body while it dips towards the ground. 

“Sorry, sorry.” The boy mumbles, not entirely meaning it. It’s impossible to be sorry when he can physically feel your heart speed up beneath his hands.

“Try to sound just a little bit less convincing next time, okay?” You shimmy slightly in a futile attempt to move his hands, which only makes him laugh brightly. If it weren’t for your less than ideal position (halfway bent into a split with every ounce of your weight balanced on the tips of your toes,) you would hit him.

“Do you want me to drop you, because I can drop you if it’s what you want-” The teacher snaps her fingers, pulling everyone’s attention out of the various warm up routines and to the front of the room. Hyunjins hands pull away from your torso so quickly that it burns.

“No dropping dance partners on purpose, that’s the first rule of building stage chemistry.” She chastises, eyes brushing briefly over your friend which causes him to turn thirty shades of pink. You giggle quietly to yourself before sticking your tongue out at him, “But of course, you can’t truly start to build a connection until there’s material. So that’s what we’re doing today, I’ve assigned each group with a pas de deux, or ‘dance for two’. Whoever I think shows the most promise within the next week will be given the opportunity to enter in the regional competition.” She says opportunity, but the stern tone of her voice means that whoever she picks will definitely have to do the competition.

Everyone floods to the front of the class before she even finishes, Hyunjin moving to do so as well before you quickly grip his wrist.

“She didn’t say to go yet, and if we want to qualify for that competition we’re going to have to start kissing up now.” You keep your face forward, chin up and shoulders back, but even then you can feel Hyunjins smile, “What?!”

“You want to do the competition?” He sounds hopeful, nearly childlike.

“Of course! That’s like half the reason I go to school here, the competitive atmosphere.” People are starting to settle back into place, your teacher wearing a look of utter annoyance. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice, seeing as his mouth keeps moving.

“I’ve only known how to do a pirouette for a month, and I still can’t really get my double. You’d have a better chance with Han, or-” As soon as the teachers back is turned you whip around to your babbling partner, hands planted firmly on his broad shoulders. It takes a second for his eyes to meet yours, but when they do he nearly melts.

“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, I want to do it with you. And just because your double isn’t perfect doesn’t mean that it’s not good so stop stressing.” He looks down for a second, cheeks growing as pink as your shoes. By force of habit you hook a hand beneath the boys chin and force him to look at you, “I mean it.” He swallows harshly, then nods. With a sigh you let go of the boy and return to your previous (assigned) position. Just in time too, seeing as the teacher turns around right as you settle next to the boy.

“You may check your assignments at the end of class, if you haven’t done so already.” You flash a knowing glance to Hyunjin, almost as if to say ‘I told you so.’ He knows better than to argue.

At the end of class you go up to look with Jisung while Hyunjin gathers your things for you, the short brunette babbling excitedly about the previously mentioned regional’s. 

“I thought that you don’t do partner work?” You tease lightly while ducking down to look at the list.

“I don’t, but neither does my partner! So we’ll just be okay at...” He bends next to, head full of brown hair hitting you straight in the eyes, “Romeo and Juliet?” You bite down a laugh while pushing the boy away.

“Don’t try to fight it, you’re such a Romeo. Just like I am such a... Lise!” The boys face contorts with jealousy as he ducks back down, once again knocking your heads together.

“You guys got La Fille mal gardee? And the ribbon dance?!” You giggle back a small yes while pinching the boys frowning cheeks, “No fair! Absolutely no fair, I have to do stupid Romeo and Juliet and you got my favorite ballet, no fair!”

“It’s my favorite too!” You defend, which ends up being pointless because both Hyunjin and Jisung chorus back with ‘not true!’ 

“Your favorite is swan lake.” Hyunjin states while sliding your dance bag onto your shoulder. Maybe it’s the fondness in his action, or the way that he named off your favorite ballet as though it was a fact ingrained into his brain, but your heart swells so large that you swear it could pop like a balloon. 

“Okay,” you exhale, hand moving to the spot where his fingers were ghosting just seconds ago, “one of my favorites.”

*

At your first rehearsal for regionals you and Hyunjin are given the ribbon to use, seeing as it’s literally the ribbon dance. Practicing without it was honestly getting awkward, which is unfortunate seeing as the boy nearly got it taken away within minutes. 

“Look (Y/n,) I’m a present!” He had exclaimed, causing you to whip around to the sight of your partner with a pink silk bow tied around his chin.

“Oh no, Hyunjin!” You whispered through a quiet laugh, moving towards him to untie it, “You are so ridiculous!”

“What? Am I not a gift?” He pouted while trying to pull your hands away, which earned him nothing but a harsh smack on the wrist. You slipped it off his face and behind your back just as the teacher walked in the door to give the ‘your ribbon is not a toy,’ talk.

At the second you describe the plot of La Fille mal Gardee, which proves to be slightly (read: very confusing.)

“Wait wait wait, she doesn’t even like the other guy?!” He asks while shaking his head cutely, black hair bouncing along with the motion. If it gets any longer he’s going to have to start putting it up.

“Nope, not one bit.” His eyebrows furrow as he starts to grumble ‘this is kind of stupid,’ earning a giggle and a push to the shoulder, “No it isn’t! It’s funny, and sweet! I really relate to Lise and her... Character arch I guess.”

“Isn’t she the girl who needed guarding or something like that?” His tilts to the side, teeth catching ever so slightly on his puffy pink lips.

“Yea,” You exhale with a quickening heart rate, “something like that.” There’s silence for a minute, nothing but Hyunjin shaking his head and sighing softly.

“That’s not you. No one needs to guard you.” For some reason your brain flashes back to the third summer alone (that awkward stage where you were too old to make new friends and too young to go see Jisung,) when you spent everyday walking through the woods alone. Sometimes you would just walk until the sun went down and your only company was the stars, but most days you would find a new place to sit down and hum out the motifs of your favorite ballets, “No one.”

For a moment you think that he’s right.

The fourth rehearsal (exactly one week after the first) is when you get to a stage kiss in the choreography, your teacher describing the motions along with a recording that’s projecting on the back wall. It starts with the boy pulling in the girl by the ribbon, then swooping down to meet her lips with a smile. Then she twirls away, leaving your skin hot and crawling. 

“We’re um... A-are we gonna do that?” Hyunjin asks through a whisper, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath. It’s warm and smells like spearmint.

“We’ll know when we get there I guess, now pay attention!” You push his face away from yours and back to the projection, watching as the couple wraps each other up in the silky ribbon.

When you do finally get there an hour later he looks so nervous that he could puke. Your teacher shouts out the next move, ‘kiss and then twirl away,’ which only adds to the painful drumming of your heart.

“It’s okay, (Y/n,) you don’t have to.” His voice is low, hushed. Almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

“No, no! It’s okay, I’ll just...” You lean forward as much as you can with the ribbon hugging your waist and press a feather light kiss onto the tip of his nose. The teacher coos, maybe even praises the two of you on the developing stage chemistry. You don’t hear it. You don’t hear anything over the erratic beating of your heart, “I’ll just do that, okay?” He swallows dryly, eyes flashing quickly down to your lips then back up to your sweet gaze.

“Y-yea, perfect.” There’s something building up in the space between your bodies, so thick that you could spread it over toast, “You should twirl away, right?” You nod, wanting desperately to stay. To kiss him in an earth shattering way.

A part of you thinks that you shouldn’t. That Hyunjin has the power to ruin every part of you, and that wanting to give that to him after your hearts already been broken is foolish. But you do, you want to. Because loving Hyunjin feels good enough that the pain doesn’t matter.

After the fifth rehearsal the two of you feel as though you’ve torn every muscle in your body. Your teacher decided within the first twelve minutes that the two of you would benefit from some conditioning, which resulted in you and Hyunjin holding side by side planks (as well as other terrible positions) and muttering curses for a solid hour.

“I’m gonna collapse.” Hyunjin whines, plopping down onto the hardwood floor beside his dance bag. Something that’s probably supposed to be a laugh falls out of your mouth before you pull the water bottle from your bag.

“At least you haven’t been wearing pointe shoes all day.” You groan while moving the bottle to your mouth. A mouthful of water slides down your throat right as the boys face twists into one of horror.

“Oh gosh, oh no I’m so sorry!” You try to wave the black haired boy away, which only makes him feel worse, “No, no! I wanna help let me umm... Come back to my room? I can set up a foot bath with...”

“Epsom salts.” You answer after swallowing another swig of water, “But I have all of the stuff in my room, I can take care of it.” Hyunjin whines again while rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself into a sitting position. There’s a bead of sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, something that you shouldn’t focus on. It catches on the tip before falling delicately onto his collar bone.

“I wanna take care of it,” It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, “just... Here, wear my jacket into the building so no one can see that you���re uh... A girl.” You try to argue again, but then your cheeks are squished in between his hand and his eyebrows are furrowed just enough for it to be cute, “Let me take care of you.”

And really, how could you say no to that?

*

“Hwang Hyunjin, you are my favorite person in the world.” You sigh, feet dipping into the warm cloudy water. He plops down next to you with a laugh and arms full of snacks.

“Can I get that in writing? You know, just to prove it to Jisung.” Laughter bounces off of his dorm walls, filling the boys brain with childhood memories. Like the time that you two were riding scooters in your driveway and just as the sun started to set you skinned your knee. Hyunjin had thought for a minute that the shaking of your shoulders was sobbing, but quickly discovered by a tilt of your chin and hands wrapped around your sides that you were indeed laughing. Beautiful, clear laughter complete with sunshine dripping from your skin. It was the first time he can remember thinking that someone was beautiful.

“Yes!” You exclaim, effectively pulling the boy from his memory, “But only if you give me food.” He giggles tiredly, a sound so sweet that it might as well be honey, and tosses a bag of pita chips your way.

“You don’t even have to ask.” 

You’re supposed to go back to your dorm at eleven, thirty minutes after arrival. But then Hyunjin starts talking about anything and everything, ranging from how he met Minho to the old building of his school. The way he chuckles sleepily while reminiscing on water logged ceilings is enough to make you melt.  

Somehow your head ends up pulled against his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. There’s an arm tied around your waist like ribbon, lips softly brushing your hairline as he mumbles endlessly about everything, your leg across his lap as though they’re supposed to be. 

“What time’s it?” You slur, clenching onto the fabric of his shirt. It smells like spice and fresh pine and Hyunjin. So much like Hyunjin.

“Midnight.” You think to yourself that it’s time to leave, that if any of the staff found out about this you’d be dead. You also think that Hyunjin smells like fresh pine and that he’s holding you in a way that you’ve never been held.

The sound of his even breathing and the weight of his arms on you lulls you to sleep in a matter of minutes.

*

When you wake up it’s to the obnoxious blaring of Hyunjins alarm. The boy whines lowly before punching it into snooze. It’s enough to make you laugh, then pull your head away from the cradle of his chin.

“C’mon sleepy, it’s time to get up. What do you have for breakfast?” If it weren’t for your hair tickling his cheek or the way your torso writhes beneath his arm he would be annoyed by your chirping voice. After the hundreds of early mornings school has thrown your way you can’t really help but be a morning person. 

“More sleep, that’s what I have.” He grumbles as you crack the curtains open, trying desperately to pull the comforter over his eyes.

“You need food to fuel your body Hyunjin-” Before you can finish lecturing him an arm shoots up from beneath the gray blanket, crashing your body onto his with a sleepy groan.

“M’ just kidding.” He pulls you under the blanket with him, mimicking the first time he spent the night at your house. You two stayed up until the sun was rising, hidden away from the world by the fluffy pink comforter of your childhood bedroom, “Protein bars are in the closet and apples’r on top of the mini fridge.

It’d be so easy to skip classes and stay here all day, not a care in the world besides the sweet boy that you’re currently tangled in. A part of you wants to melt away and give in, but a bigger part knows that doing that is a commitment. Like saying that you’re his to hold and break however he pleases. It’s the scariest thought that you’ve had in months.

“W-we should get going. Yea?” The words sound like you’ve been choking on them. A fact that Hyunjin takes notice of, eyes growing sad and attentive as his arms wiggle away from your waist.

“Yea, yea. Minho will be here in ten minutes, we walk to pas de deux together.” Before you can help it your expression turns panicked, eyebrows shooting up as your jaw drops open, “Sorry! He’s not gonna tell anyone or anything I promise!” Something clenches in your chest at the sight of him sitting up in bed, black hair sticking up every way that it can.

“I know he won’t, it’s just...” You look down at your body, clothed with Hyunjins sweatshirt and a pair of his long socks (turns out that he was onto something with the whole ‘sleeping in socks’ thing,) “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” His gaze shoots up to meet yours, so soft and relaxed that you could cry.

“Which would be?” There’s a pounding in your ears that’s quickly recognizable as a heartbeat. 

“That we’re together.” It’s barely above a whisper, but Hyunjin hears you loud and clear. From the light tremble to the breathy finish, he hears you.

“We could be, if that’s what you want.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, an action familiar enough that it’s normal yet tender enough that your cheeks are flushing pink, “Is that what you want?” 

“I-I, um...” Your heart is screaming yes, that you want to be his and only his. That while you aren’t a girl who needs to be guarded, you are a girl who wants to be guarded. Guarded from everything by Hyunjins thin comforter and strong arms.

But then you think about the promise that Hyunjin broke. The promise that he wouldn’t forget you, and then broke less than twenty-four hours later. You think about how badly you’ve wanted to spend the last day of summer with him every year since. Your mouth opens right as a knock sounds against his door, “Can we talk about this later?” Hyunjin nods lightly while getting up to grab two apples off of the top of the mini fridge. 

“I’m so sorry for however he reacts.” The boy groans under his breath, offering you a light green apple along with an apologetic smile. You accept, smiling back before popping out of bed to pull your dance bag over your shoulder.

“It can’t be that bad, Minho’s level headed.” If it weren’t for the fact that Hyunjin still has a question lodged in his throat he would’ve laughed.

You’re the one who finally opens the door, interrupting Minho mid-knock. At first he looks aggravated, ready to launch into a long speech about how ‘timeliness is important’ and ‘you always fucking make us late’ but when his eyes meet you his jaw goes slack. 

“What the f-”

If the sound of Minho screeching wasn’t telling enough, you were very very wrong.

*

The next four days are spent dancing around Hyunjins burning question, constantly talking about anything else or switching the topic when it seems like he might bring it up. At first he barely notices, simply assuming that you need time to mull it over, but then Jisung and Chan sit in on a lunchtime rehearsal.

The dance is coming along perfectly, so much so that the boys don’t even notice your hesitations. Hyunjin sees it though. Sees the way that your hands tremble before planting on his shoulders, the way that your face looks sad after pressing the soft kiss onto his nose. While he hasn’t seen you dance as much as Jisung or Felix probably have, he’s still seen enough to know that you’re never like this. Never uncertain.

“What was that about?” The boy asks after the rehearsal, hands crossed against his chest. You’re going to ignore him, focus on nothing other than getting out of your pointe shoes and off to your next class, but then his dark brown eyes catch on yours, “Seriously!”

“What are you talking about?” You respond, fingers working quickly to undo the ribbons around your ankles. A sigh leaves your mouth as one shoe slips off and into your bag, quickly moving to the other one before Hyunjin can continue the questioning.

Turns out that your friend is terrible at picking up on social cues.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Your head is briefly pulled up from the floor as his voice grows impossibly soft, your heartbeat faltering ever so slightly. There’s a quiet goodbye as Jisung and Chan leave the studio, “Y-you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, throwing the second shoe into your bag while a lump takes form in your throat. If he wasn’t your best friend then he would think that you’re just tired, or hungry, or anything other than deflecting. But he is your best friend, who knows that being tired or hungry only makes you sad. Your best friend who knows that you’re deflecting harder than you ever have before.

“It’s okay, just tell me. Please.” His last word is so hushed that you can barely hear it, but it’s there. Light, and airy, and perfectly there, “Is this about what I asked?” Before you can help you’re nodding, once again giving this boy every part of you that can break.

“Yea, kind of.” It feels like your mouth is full of cotton, leaving you uncomfortably hot along with speechless. A loud sigh rings through the studio as Hyunjin slides down to meet your height, hands burying into his raven black hair. The sight takes you back to the last day of fifth grade; you and him holding each other on your front porch as if the world was ending, your hands tangled into his hair.

“Is it because you don’t want to?” There’s his eyes on yours, your chest heaving, and nothing else in the entire universe. Just (Y/n,) the girl who wants to be guarded, and Hyunjin, (Y/n’)s beloved.

“No.” 

“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Right now feels like when you’re at a competition, in the middle of a variation that’s been giving you hell since you started working on it. It’s seconds before the hardest part, the one that you’re still not sure of. It’s the adrenaline rushing through your veins and the words ‘now or never’ echoing with each timed exhale.

“Because. How do I know that you won’t forget about me when summer comes?” Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, causing his lips to part and then heave for air. 

“I-I never forgot about you.”

“Yes you did!” There are tears prickling the back of your eyelids, which you quickly blink away before continuing, “I waited for you outside your house every day! And then, when you wouldn’t show up, I-I’d spend every day alone. Doing what we used to do together, but by myself! I was all by myself and I missed you so much, Jinnie. So, so much.” He’s going to tell you that you’re wrong. That while all of those things happened, he never ever forgot about you.

But then there’s that old nickname, the one reserved specifically for family and you. He hasn’t heard it in months, and when he finally does it’s rolling out of your mouth like a plea soaked in honey. Something that’s going to stick with him for forever.

“(Y/n,) please-” You’re up and out of the door before he can even finish.

*

It’s a dreary Friday morning, rain trickling down your window and painting your room a gray shade of blue. With a deep inhale you realize that everything is finally smelling like fall, which only solidifies the fact that you never want to get out of bed. Unfortunately you have a class in half an hour that you do kind of need to go to. 

But it’s not too terrible. Maybe if you were getting up to go take a math class, or run a marathon, but you aren’t. You’re getting up to go to ballet class, and you can wear your favorite leotard again (the light blue one, with pearls sewn around the collar,) and the rain outside is heavy enough to be calming but light enough that you can fend it off with an umbrella. The only thing that could make this morning any better is your favorite childhood breakfast, honey nut cheerios with strawberry milk.

Which is, oddly enough, sitting outside of your door when you open it to head off to the dining hall. A gallon sized jug of bright pink milk next to a family size box of your favorite cereal, just sitting in the middle of the hallway with a folded piece of paper resting precariously on top. Something about this has Hyunjin written all over it. You lean down to pick up the note, reading it about a thousand times over before rushing back into your room to wolf down the breakfast that you haven’t had in months.

‘(Y/n,)

I never forgot you.

Come to my room tonight after rehearsal. Please.

Sincerely, Hyunjin.’ 

When you two do the first full run through of the pas de deux that night he holds you extra tight. Maybe because he misses you. Maybe because he thinks that after tonight he’ll never have the chance to do so again.

But when he opens the door to his dorm room you see pink fluffy blankets folded on his bed. On top of them is a basket, filled to the brim with every last one of your favorite things. Strawberries dipped in chocolate like the ones your mother would make on hot summer nights, snickers bars like the ones that you two would share after days spent in your driveway, glass bottled lemonade like you would buy from the stand up the street.

“I may or may not have also bought your favorite movie. Well, if it’s still Barbie And the Twelve Dancing Princesses.” A giggle sounds through the room, bouncing around the walls and then back onto Hyunjins burning cheeks.

“It is, but don’t tell Jisung!” Rain starts to fall again, the soft pitter patter mixing perfectly with the boys soft laugh. His hand grazes briefly against the small of your back as he starts to guide you into the tight room, “I’m serious! Him and Lix will make fun of me!” The pout on your face is enough to melt anyone’s heart, which is why Hyunjin doesn’t even think twice when his knees go weak as jelly.

“My lips are sealed.” He says, walking over the boxy tv (that certainly wasn’t there last week) on his desk and inserting the disc, “Now sit back and enjoy.”

It’s not a hard request to fill, your tired body sinking immediately into the fluffy blankets and mouth watering each time you bite down on a strawberry. Rain continues to patter softly against the window, the sound occasionally being replaced by a loud roll of thunder which makes the boy next to you jump. You had laughed at the action, asking softly if he was scared. It was a rhetorical question, you know fully well that he’s always been scared of thunder.

“No! Yes, shut up.” And if you mind that the boy cuddles softly into your side, one arm wrapped around the curve of your waist while the other holds a chocolate strawberry, you don’t say so. 

The two of you stay tangled up in each other like that until the credits roll, Hyunjins breathy sigh hitting your cheek as he shifts to get up. You watch with heartfelt eyes as he crosses the dimly lit room, his black hair briefly sweeping across his eyes. You want to reach up and push it away, but right as you manage to sit up straight he’s done with it and headed back to the bed. With a short laugh you realize that your noses are touching.

“Hi.” The word comes at as a short exhale, leaving a taste on your tongue that’s sweeter than chocolate strawberries.

“Hey.” Your heart flutters at the sound, an exhale laced together with a smile, as his arms return to their previous spot around your waist. There’s probably nothing in the world brighter than the smile he wears for you. Stage lights, the sun, every last star in the sky rolled into one. None of it even comes close to the way that his pink lips stretch perfectly from cheek to cheek, “Do you finally believe me?” He brings up a hand to caress your cheek gently, as though to rub away tears that haven’t fallen.

“Believe wh-”

“Do you believe that I never forgot you? That I never forgot any of you, not even the little things like your favorite color or what you liked to eat for dinner. Maybe I pulled away, but I think it’s because even then I knew how badly losing you would hurt. I-I knew that I never wanted to lose you, which is just what I did...” He swallows harshly, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “But I’ll never do it again. I’ll never lose you, and I’ll never forget you a-and... And I don’t want to remember you anymore, (Y/n.) I’m so done with remembering, let’s just be.” There’s something stuck in your throat, but it doesn’t hurt the way that tears do. No, this is a release gathering inside of you. One that’s waiting for you to finally give in.

“Hyunjin,” His fingers cradle the curve of your jaw, sending goosebumps down every inch of your body, “kiss me.” And that’s all the confirmation he needs to brush his lips over yours.

At first it’s gentle, almost questioning. Like he’s asking one last time ‘Is this okay?’ But then your hands tangle in his black hair, the way that they’ve been aching to since you first saw him, and he knows that you’re okay. More than okay, you’re in love. With every muscle in your body, you’re in love.

Hyunjin’s hand that was previously holding your face drops back down to your waist and pulls you in softly. They then travel down to your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips before he picks you up and guides you onto the bed. Every movement is so perfect yet raw, feeling like the stuff of ballets. Until your back hits an unopened glass bottle of lemonade, that is. The sudden cold is enough to make you jump.

“What?!” Hyunjin questions, eyes shooting as wide as saucers, “Did I hurt you?!” A laugh sounds through the room while your hand detaches from his hair, opting instead to reach around your body and remove the glass bottle that’s poking you in the least conventional way possible.

“No.” You answer through soft giggles, bringing up the bottle to lightly tap his forehead, “There’s just a lemonade poking me in the ass.”

He flushes bright pink before answering with a tiny ‘oh’ and burying his face into the crook of your neck. If you were less malleable you would’ve teased him even more, but then there are warm kisses on your skin and nothing in your head.

“I love you.” He whispers, head slowly moving until his lips are against your jaw. You’re going to answer, really, but then there are soft lips on your chin and a smile ripping through your body, “I love you.” 

“M-me too.” You stammer dumbly, body going entirely limp as he (finally) presses another kiss onto your lips. The boy pulls away entirely too soon, but it’s okay. There’s something that you need to finish saying, anyways, “I love you too, Jinnie.”

When you fall asleep that night it’s to the sound of pattering rain, with Hyunjins arms guarding you from the world. 

*

The bus back from regionals is quiet, the few sounds that do come about being Chan and Felix whispering softly or Minho giggling at Jisung snoring. You’re about there too, but who can blame you when Hyunjins hands are buried in your hair (which is both stiff and wavy from a combination of hairspray and braided buns.) If you close your eyes and focus really hard you can even feel the rise and fall of his chest where it’s connected with your back. 

“Who’s gonna keep our trophy?” The boy questions, lips moving softly against the shell of your ear. It generates a warm feeling in your gut, one that spreads quickly to your cheeks and ears.

“We’ll trade it off on the weekends. Like divorced soccer parents.” He giggles softly, moving forward to kiss your temple.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” If you were a little bit less tired, or a little bit less in love, then maybe you’d joke back. But you’re wrapped up in him like a ribbon on your waist, foot nudging against a plastic first place trophy while his lips move against you in a way that you could get drunk off of.

“Never.” You answer, hand coming up to wrap around his as if it were a vow, “Never.”

[flutteringdreams-matw]

Out of Time (6)

First/Last

Read on AO3

Word Count: 6032

Previously: Vlad and Maddie talk about cores. Clockwork gives some answers and proposes more questions. Dani shows up at Val's.

Now: Some exposition before Dan and Danny round 2 - ghost zone edition. Fight scene (T rated, cw for choking)

Link to the next chapter will be in the replies once posted. As always - please let me know what you think!

---

"Let me get this straight," Valerie started, eying the young girl across from her from the stovetop. She turned the pancake over in the pan and nudged it slightly. "You just happened to show up a few days ago from the Ghost Zone and just… hung out in the town when Phantom put the shield up? All on your own?"

Dani nodded, putting another piece of her pancake in her mouth. "Yep," she said, mouth full. "Not hard really – ghosts don't need to eat much. With that shield up, none of the natural portals have opened in the city – and I wasn't just going to leave."

Valerie put another pancake on the table before pouring more batter into the pan. "And you didn't reach out to your cousin because…"

Dani frowned. "Something's wrong," she said worriedly. "This isn't like Danny; this shield … whatever reason it's up is because he wants to protect the town. He and the Fentons must be facing something big and I don't want to get in their way."

Valerie turned the stove off, adding the last pancake to the stack between them, before she plopped herself at the table. Putting her head in her arm, she looked across at the young girl with a frown. "I don't think Phantom would mind. He seemed pretty worried about you the last time you were here."

Dani smiled. "Of course he wouldn't," she agreed. "The Fentons would love for me to stay too. But they've done so much for me and I don't want to be a burden. Or Danny worrying about me on top of everything else." She grabbed another pancake from the stack between the teens and helped herself. "Besides, other than the Fentons… my only options were you, a Ghost Hunter, or Vlad. I figured I'd chance it."

Valerie frowned in disgust at the mention of the mayor. "Yikes."

Sensing the girl's conflict, Dani waved her off. "It's fine. Vlad gets all of us at the beginning. Besides, you and Danny worked together to save me; figured you couldn't be all bad."

Valerie opened her mouth to argue that she didn't regularly team up with the ghost kid but stopped herself. This kid was all alone and was worried about Phantom, the only tangible relative she had. While Valerie had her opinions about the ghost teen, she couldn't burst this girl's bubble. Besides, if she managed to get information from the girl, it'd be a bonus.

"Sorry about dinner, Dad's working the night shift and pancakes are my go-to in times like this."

Dani grinned. "Are you kidding? Pancakes are the best! I mean… I didn't even know what they were until now!"

Valerie chuckled; she knew she liked this kid. The two girls sat in a comfortable silence for a little bit, before the news bulletin from earlier that day repeated with sharp shrill. Dani whirled around, the grin sliding off her face as she watched the fight from earlier. "Danny…" she whispered worriedly. The half-ghost turned around, distraught. "Is he okay?"

Valerie sighed; wincing again as she watched Phantom fall right after his last attack, Lance Thunder appearing to a repeat of what he witnessed. "I don't know," she answered honestly.

"We need to help him!" Dani exclaimed, a ring of light appearing at her waist. Valerie stared at it for a moment, remembering how the ghost girl transformed, before running and putting her hands on Dani's shoulders.

"Hold up - That was hours ago," the older teen replied soothingly. "There's no way of knowing where he would go if injured. Or if those ghosts were on his side."

Dani pouted, the light disappearing. "But –"

Valerie sighed. "I know you're worried, but Phantom's – and I can't believe I'm saying this – strong. I'm sure he'll be fine. The blasted ghost just doesn't stay down. If he's not back to his insufferable self by tomorrow, then you should worry."

Dani stared at the girl, a look of confusion dancing across her face before it lit up in realization. "Oh," she exclaimed softly. "He didn't tell you, did he?"

Valerie frowned in confusion. "Tell me what?"

"Nevermind," Dani replied quickly, brushing her off. She smiled gratefully. "You're right – I'll call the Fenton's tomorrow. If anyone knows where Danny Phantom might be, it'd be them." Valerie's face went from curious to uncomfortable very quickly. "What?" Dani asked, worried that she might have upset the girl.

Valerie looked away from her. "That'll be all you," she said, cheeks turning red. "My only contact with the Fentons is through Danny. He and I might be civil, but I really don't want to talk to my ex about this. He gets enough ghost stuff from his parents."

Dani was silent for a moment, before smiling from ear to ear. "Hold up….Danny Fenton is your ex?" she asked sneakily. Valerie nodded, bewildered as the two teens stared at each other. Finally, Dani burst out laughing, pointing and making noises.

"What!? He's scared of ghosts!" Valerie continued over the girl's laughter. "If we stayed together, ghosts would use him as bait to get to me!"

Dani laughed harder still, tears in her eyes. Valerie sighed glumly, watching as her new house guest laugh herself to the floor.

:-=-:

Everything hurt. Everything. The raw energy that now flooded him was only just holding Dan at bay. The evil ghost yelled something over the strong crackles of electricity and howls of the wind. Was this what Clockwork warned him of? Was this all he could do? It couldn't be.

He was tired – run ragged from everything he endured. He let his own powers push outward, feeling not only raw but core energy expend out of him.

The Ecto-Storm released – pain….the world exploded in pain.

Green eyes met a pair of fearful eyes in a distance – two pairs? –

An explosion and it all went dark…

Danny gasped as he awoke, looking around widely as he readjusted from his nightmare. He was sitting with his back against his door, looking inward into his room. Did I just pass out? Everything seemed so much bigger from down here, so far away. Danny frowned as he remembered his conversation with Clockwork and Ethelwulf. Was this another glimpse of the future?

Danny stood slowly, grabbing the door quickly as his knees buckle. He felt his core shift violently at the sudden movement. "Come on," he muttered, shaking his head. Almost as if responding, his core quieted and he felt stronger, standing up on his own. Danny frowned -There were no sparks violently going through him, his base powers were holding. If Sam was right… then what he just saw will happen. Danny shuddered as that thought went through him, bile rising from the back of his throat. "Get a grip," he muttered. "It could be worse."

Sure – keep telling yourself that Phantom voiced from the back of his mind.

A small explosion from downstairs erased his rebuttal. Danny furrowed his brow as he opened the door cautiously. Another sound, this time from an ecto-gun, came up from the lab. "Hello?" Danny called from the top of the stairs. When no response came, he sped down the stairs and down to the lab. "Mom? Dad?" As he reached the bottom he stopped, suddenly taken aback by the commotion in the lab.

His parents were at opposite ends of the lab; his Mom was facing off against Jazz and Sam with various weapons and tactics while his Dad, Ethelwulf and Tucker were hunched over at the main console in deep conversation. He looked at both ends of the lab, half amused, half relieved at what he was walking into.

"Overwhelming – isn't it?"

Danny jumped as Clockwork appeared beside him, his time staff resting on the ground softly. Blue eyes met red for a moment as the world continued beyond them. Danny chuckled slightly. "Nah, I'm used to it," he replied with a genuine smile as he turned back to the multiple activities of the lab.

Clockwork stared at Danny, regarding him in pity. "That's not what I meant," the old ghost told him. Danny's smile fell slightly, but he didn't look at Clockwork. "I would be surprised if it wasn't overwhelming; you're only fifteen. You've had to deal with Time in ways none of us have before. Just remember you are not alone; you do not have to suffer through these visions on your own."

Danny said nothing, standing in silence next to the Time Master as he watched his friends and family interact with each other. "You're right," he said, finally turning to Clockwork. Clockwork raised an eyebrow, inviting the boy to go on. "I had another vision. Whatever these things are, the one thing I know is I'm going to face Dan." Danny crossed his arm and frowned in thought. "If only there was some way to find out –"

"No," Clockwork interrupted sternly. Danny jumped, wide-eyed at the tone. "Even if there were, the less you learn about the future the better." Clockwork floated lower to the half-ghost's eye level. The harshness in his eyes softened slightly. "Trust me Danny, having the knowledge of time is one thing; having to make decisions based on that knowledge? It is the greatest burden of all." The boy's blue eyes met the tired, sad red eyes of the ghost and saw the turmoil behind the words. They stood staring at each other for a few moments, before Clockwork sighed, looking upward. With a small nod, Clockwork disappeared abruptly, bringing Danny's attention back to the occupants of the lab.

He looked between his parents again, realizing none of them had noticed his entrance. Deciding that he didn't want to be hit by a stray ecto-blast from Jazz, Danny made his way over to his father, mentor and best friend.

Sensing movement, Jack looked up from the screen briefly, before beaming. "Danny! Perfect timing!" he boomed, waving him over. "We were just going over your files."

Danny frowned apprehensively. "The ones on Dan?"

"No- the other secret Ghost files," Tucker said sarcastically, not looking up from the screen. Danny glared half-heartedly in his direction, but gestured for him to continue. "I've been pointing out the attacks we know he has for sure – this way we can figure out how to defend ourselves." He typed something into the computer, hitting the final key emphatically. Blueprints for a large ghost shield appeared on the main monitor. Finally, the dark skinned teen turned to half-ghost. "Your parents have a large shield schematic ready to go – they're just missing one thing."

Danny blinked. "Which is?"

"Dan's ecto-signature," Jack replied. Danny looked at him wide-eyed. "If we can specify the difference between you and him, we can adapt the shield's programming to keep Dan out and not hurt you in the process." The larger man put his hand on Danny's shoulder, making him stumble. "If we can get that shield up and running, you can heal up properly."

Danny shot him a grateful smile. "That's a great idea!" he exclaimed. Danny's eyes ran over the screen, recognizing some of the data on the screen. When he realized what was missing, he frowned slightly. "This isn't going to be easy – while Dan has half of my ecto-signature, he also has half of someone else's."

"Right," Ethelwulf confirmed, yellow eyes scanning a different screen. "Though from your files, you indicate that Dan had shifted forms to look like you and that he has a heat core. However, ghost cores don't change much at a molecular level – even when altered."

"Think of it like water," Jack continued. "Molecularly, stays the same but its form shifts; Even when frozen or as a gas."

"We believe that this secondary ecto-signature was a catalyst for your core to shift," Ethelwulf explained. "If this alternate version of you had an ice core during the time of the merge, then it changed into a heat core during this process but did not drastically change your ecto-signature."

Danny looked between Ethelwulf and his father in confusion. "Doesn't that mean we have the same ecto-signature?"

"Not quite," Jack said. "Remember, Jazz sent the boooo-merang into the zone to find you. It keyed into you – not the other you. Don't you see?"

Danny looked at Tucker for assistance. "Not really," he admitted.

"Basically even though it might be small, there is a difference between your ecto-sig and Dan's," Tucker answered determinedly. "All we have to do is figure out what aspect is more like Plasmius' ecto-signature, reverse the coding to prevent that ecto-signature being the one kept out of the shield and we'll be all set."

Jack blinked, before turning to Danny suddenly. "Wait - Plasmius is the other ecto-signature!?" he asked incredulously. Tucker flinched under the glare Danny sent his way. Danny sighed, nodding but did not elaborate further. The boy's demeanour changed; reserved and subdued. Jack frowned as his son stared at the schematics, hardened blue eyes lost in thought. "Hey – this is a good thing Danny! We have all the pieces we need to create the shield." He nudged Danny slightly, smiling reassuringly at his son. "It's a solid plan. You just have to trust us."

Danny shot his father a small smile. "I do," he said gratefully. Jack clapped Danny on the shoulder once more before turning back to Ethelwulf in conversation.

Tucker chuckled. "You seriously need to lighten up," he joked. "Between your Dad, Ethelwulf and this Techno geek, this shield will be up no problem!"

Danny smiled at his friend's enthusiasm and attempt to make him feel better. "I don't doubt it," he said. Danny looked his friend up and down, finally realizing something was different. "Tuck…. What are you wearing?"

Tucker smiled widely, puffing out his chest. The red beret was still there, but instead of his street clothes, Tucker was in a mustard yellow jumpsuit with dark green gloves and boots. Over his chest, he had two straps creating an X full of small pouches. "You parents thought it was time we had our own jumpsuits in case we have to be in the field. We got to design some of those jumpsuits that your Dad didn't have a chance to dye orange yet."

"We?" Danny asked, raising an eyebrow. Tucker rolled his eyes exasperatedly, muttering something under his breath before pointing to the other side of the lab. As Danny's eyes followed, he noticed his sister in an almost identical jumpsuit as his Mom's with the same X pattern as Tucker's on her back.

When his eyes found Sam, his breath hitched in his throat; her jumpsuit was a deep purple with black boots and gloves, with a small black flower on her back. She too, had straps along her torso, but most had a few ecto-guns attached at her back. She flipped gracefully in the air, a smug smile on her face as she dodged his Mom's staff and released the Jack-o-Nine tails, leaving the older Fenton unarmed. He couldn't keep his eyes off her; the world's sound disappeared as she became the only thing he could focus on. She was… he couldn't even describe what he was feeling right now. Vaguely, he heard Tucker talking at him, but it was drowned out by his heart pounding in his eardrums.

"Come on Space Cadet," Tucker said, smirking as he pulled the boy away from the console and toward the sparring women.

"What?" he replied dumbly, blinking owlishly at his friend.

Tucker chuckled. "Oh man," he murmured to himself. "Sam better appreciate this."

"What!?" Danny asked again, his voice going a bit higher in pitch.

Maddie waved her hand in the air, stopping the sparring match as the two boys approached. "You girls are getting much better," she said confidently, putting a hand on her hip. "Jazz – your weapon control is steadily improving. You might be able to handle the weapons that require higher precision now!"

"Finally!" the red head exclaimed in triumph. She wiped her brow and turned to Sam. "You've got to teach me that sliding tackle you used on Mom – it was wicked."

Sam smiled proudly. "Definitely." Noticing her two best friends on the sidelines, she turned slightly toward them. "Next time, we can give these two a run for their money."

Tucker held up his hands in surrender at the girl's suggestion. "I'm all for training, but not for getting destroyed by you. You do that enough in video games. Right Danny?" The boy in question did not answer, continuing to gape unbecomingly at Sam. Tucker sighed and locked eyes with an amused Jazz.

Before Jazz could comment on her brother's state, Maddie tugged her arm away from the group of teens. "Come on Jazz, let's help your father with that shield," she teased, a small smile across her lips.

"Mom!" Jazz whined, watching her opportunity to tease her brother move farther away as her Mom dragged her from the teens.

Sam watched them go, confused, before turning back to her friend. "What's with him?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion. Tucker shrugged, looking exasperated. Sam waved her gloved hand in front of Danny. "Hello? Earth to Danny?"

Danny blinked as he stepped back. "Purple!" he blurted out, startled. Tucker covered his face forcefully and groaned at his friend's lack of control.

"Purple?" Sam repeated, confused. "Oh! You mean this!" She gestured to her jumpsuit. "Pretty cool right? I was going to use black, but it'd look too much like yours." When Danny didn't say anything else, she frowned. "What? Not Goth enough?"

Finally shaking out of his stupor, Danny shook his head. "Just… purple's a nice colour on you," he said. Sam blinked, before her face turned slightly pink, making Danny's go slightly pink as well.

Tucker looked up at the ceiling in exasperation as his two best friends continued to stare awkwardly. "Hopeless," he said with a sigh. "Utterly hopeless." Deciding that it was time to break whatever spell they had on each other he turned to the half-ghost of the group with his hand on his hip. "How are you doing after today?"

Danny made a face. "It's… a lot," he said after a while. He turned away from his friends, staring at the portal as memories flashed before his eyes. "You guys weren't there – at the end I mean. How close it was. Now… it's a whole lot bigger than just beating him."

Sam frowned. "The time visions?"

"Not just them," Danny admitted, looking briefly at his family at the console. "If I was him-"

"Which you're not," Tucker said pointedly.

"Which I'm not," he agreed sardonically. "I wouldn't want to recreate the accident. I would want revenge." Danny started pacing, frowning in worry. "That battle this morning? He was toying with me – trying to see what I can do. Now he's somewhere in the Ghost Zone planning who knows what and I have no idea how to stop him."

Tucker and Sam looked at each other before turning back to their now worried friend. Tucker moved first, grabbing Danny's shoulder and stopping him in his tracks. "We don't know his plan," he started determinedly, "but we might be able to find him." The dark skinned teen gave him a triumphant look as he pulled out what looked to be a small gaming controller with a screen on it. "Meet the Fento-drone."

"A video game Tuck?" Sam asked deadpanned.

"Not a video game – the best invention ever!" Tucker exclaimed. Danny rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, bemused. "Mr. F and I developed it. We can send in a couple of these bad boys into the Ghost Zone and have them look for your older jerkface of a self. When this is hooked up to the main system, we can control where they go." Tucker turned to Danny. "Your Dad said he wanted to add a couple things too – give it the ol' Fenton charm."

"That… actually might help," Danny said excitedly. "How many of those are done?"

Tucker opened his mouth to answer but shut it quickly as shrill, loud alarms suddenly came to life around them. The trio of teens turned back to the console, watching as the red lights flickered across the faces of the Fentons. A computerized voice sounded from above.

"Ecto-Exdous Alarm activated. Prepare to kick ghost keister!"

A flurry of movement appeared at the other end of the lab as both Fenton parents turned off the alarm pulled up the Ghost Zone Radar. The little ghost icons seemed to be in waves, the largest in the middle.

"I haven't seen that many ghosts since the Ghost King!" Jack exclaimed. "Tucker! Lend me a hand!"

"On it!" Tucker yelled, running toward the larger man, Sam at his heels.

Danny stayed back, watching the radar worriedly. If this is anything like the Ghost King, the ghosts are evacuating. He glanced at the waves, seeing a few icons break away from the large mass of ghosts toward the back and front. His eyes found the group the furthest away from the portal and the lone figure at the back. Dan - He was sure of it.

"Are any of the Fento-drones ready for launch?" Tucker asked, frantically typing in code through the system.

"Only two," Jack replied. He turned to his wife. "Mads, what's the containment system like?"

Maddie looked up from her screen to Jack. "95% - but that's nowhere near enough to house that many ghosts!"

Danny frowned, watching the screen from afar. No one seemed to notice his presence anymore, the radar attracting their complete attention.

"What will you do?"

Danny jumped as Clockwork appeared beside him. "Don't do that!" Danny exclaimed angrily. "If you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of something here!"

Clockwork rolled his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, time has slowed down." He replied, deadpanned.

Danny's eyes widened – Clockwork was right. Everything moved in slow motion around them, from the typing keyboard to running for weapons. He looked at the Time Master in confusion, but Clockwork cut him off.

"What will you do?" he asked again. "Time will not be slowed for much longer."

Danny looked back at the radar screen; one sole ghost moved quickly, gaining momentum as the rest of the ghosts slowed. His hand curled into a fist as time started to move normally.

"The first wave of ghosts should reach us any moment," his father yelled.

Danny looked toward his friends and family, all questioning their next move – if he was going to act, it had to be now.

"Should we close the portal?!" Maddie yelled back. Suddenly she stood up straight. "Wait…. Where's –"

Steeling his resolve, Danny locked eyes with Clockwork for a moment before he took off. He jumped up and he transformed, illuminating the lab in white light.

"Danny!" he heard his Mom yell after him as he flew quickly, diving into the portal.

The vast, empty space of Ghost Zone swirled magnificently as he flew toward the crowd at top speed. They didn't deserve this. No one deserved to be part of this. He had to get to them before -

"BEWARE!"

Danny stopped suddenly, taken aback at the ghost's sudden appearance in front of him. "Box Ghost?" he exclaimed, confused. Remembering why he was here in the first place, he shook his head. "Where is he?" he asked seriously.

The Box Ghost looked at the young Phantom in front of him. "Runaway Ghost Child!" he said with wide eyes, grabbing Danny by the shoulders. "The other Phantom is too powerful. He's destroyed many realms with his sonic attack!"

"Ghostly Wail," Danny corrected impatiently. "Where is he Box Ghost? What's holding him back?"

The Box Ghost frowned worriedly, looking away. "The Far Frozen started to form ice shields as we ran," he started. Danny could see the larger crowd getting closer. "But he broke them suddenly. We thought we were getting away but he came toward us out of nowhere. Skulker and Ember told us to head for your portal; they're fighting him now."

Eyes narrowing in frustration, Danny broke away from the startled ghost. "Listen Box Ghost," he started, looking at the amount of ghosts headed his way. "I need you to lead those ghosts through my parents' portal and up into Amity – just like when the Ghost King attacked. Tell my parents to be ready to close the portal as soon as everyone gets through."

"Me!?" the Box Ghost exclaimed incredulously. "What about you?!"

Danny ignored him. "Go!" he yelled, taking flight again as he headed deeper into the Ghost Zone.

As he passed over the crowd, he heard calls of "Great One!" from below. A quick scan found a large group of yetis flanking the outer perimeter of the mass of ghosts, Frostbite among them. He flew down towards them, floating in place. "Get to the portal," he ordered quickly. "I'm going to hold him off long enough for everyone to get out safely. Find Ethelwulf – he and Clockwork will explain." He took off again, ignoring any of the calls from the group of Far Frozen workers. As he passed the last of the escaping ghosts, he stopped. In the distance he could see a lot of debris, islands that used to house ghosts turned to rubble.

How could he cause this much damage so quickly? He asked himself, distraught. He gasped, brought out of his musings by explosions up ahead. His hands balled into fists and eyes narrowed in anger. Danny shot forward toward the fight. Dan was not getting to Amity Park – not today.

:-=-:

Skulker fired another round of rockets from his suit's armour before dodging behind a floating piece of debris toward Ember. The rockstar ghost scanned her green eyes over her boyfriend's bodysuit as she quickly restrung her guitar.

"Remind me again why we're risking our necks to help the others get out of here?" she asked bitterly.

Skulker reloaded his blaster and a few more rockets quickly, chancing a small glance around their hiding spot. "Because nothing can get past the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter and Ember McLain," he replied. "I don't see him."

Ember scoffed, turning the dial on her guitar up. "Who is this guy anyway? He has the dipstick's little symbol on his chest but that is definitely not Phantom. Not unless he aged himself up."

Skulker's eyes narrowed. "No, but his head will make an excellent addition to my collection." The ghost hunter turned to Ember. "We'll move on my signal. Three – Two-"

"One," Dan's snide voice came from above the pair as a strong ecto-blast came barrelling toward them. Skulker and Ember flew sideways, in opposite directions, dodging as the blast hit the large floating rock they hit. Ember jumped on her guitar, surfing through the zone and sending a flurry of blue flames to the spectre as she passed. Dan merely put up a shield, watching with a grin as she came to a stop a few yards away. The flames petered out, making him drop the shield. "What? Can't stand the heat?" he asked menacingly. Blue flames appeared in his hands as he flung them outward, a set of flames thrown in the shape of an X toward the ghost diva. Ember jumped off her guitar, grabbing its neck as she dodged. Pulling the guitar close to her, she played a loud chord, sending two ectoplasmic fists back at the evil spirit. Dan flew upward, flipping over the attack as he sent his own ecto-blasts back. He landed forcefully on a floating rock, laughing slightly as he felt his boots sink into the earth.

His ghost sense flooded his nose as he sensed the robotic ghost behind him. Dan turned, bringing his right knee upwards and into Skulker's abdomen. The ghost grunted in pain as Dan grabbed his arm and swung him around, throwing him straight into Ember. The two ghosts cried out in pain as they tumbled through the air. "Too easy," Dan gloated, igniting his hands in green ecto-energy one more time. He threw another ghost ray at the pair. Skulker flew out of the way quickly, but the ray hit Ember sending her flying, her limp body rolling through the air.

"Ember!" Skulker called out to her, stricken. Her body came to a stop, floating in place, unconscious. With a roar of anger, Skulker flew towards Dan, two large blades appearing from his forearms. "You'll pay for that abomination!"

Dan waited, evil grin still plastered on his face as he waited for the emotional ghost in front of him. As Skulker aimed for his stomach, he created an opening, letting the blades go straight through with no injury.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" Dan asked, eyes narrowing. Skulker gasped as Dan grabbed his shoulders, lifting him above the ghost. "I think you have your priorities wrong here tin can." Dan threw the ghost, sending another blast towards the hunter. It hit Skulker straight on, sending him flying upward. He managed to steady himself just as he heard Dan speak again. "Why face me when your girlfriend is the one in danger."

Skulker's green eyes widened as he realized what the ghost was about to do. Skulker rushed over to his fallen comrade, covering her with his own body as he felt the blast connect with his armour. He gritted his teeth, biting back a cry of pain. Skulker turned back to glare at the spectre, parts of his battle suit falling into the abyss of the Ghost Zone as the blast subsided. Ember stirred briefly, but didn't awaken. Holding the pop star's form close, Skulker held out his right arm, taking aim with one of his rockets.

Dan smirked, crossing his arms. "Oh please," he said. "You can't defeat me; you had 10 years to, what, put my pelt as a throw rug? I know your whole playbook Skulker – there's no way out of this."

Skulker lowered his weapon, wide-eyed. "Ghost child?" he questioned, confused.

Dan chuckled. "Not quite," he drawled, red eyes shining gleefully. "Not since I ripped out my humanity." He flew up to Skulker's level but still had lots of space in between them. "Now, time to send my younger self a message."

He inhaled deeply before releasing his sonic attack, ripples of energy erupting from his mouth. Skulker closed his eyes, hugging Ember tighter as he braced for impact.

It never came.

Skulker's eyes flew open as merely three feet away Danny Phantom, the one he knew, held a large ecto-shield in front of them, holding the attack at bay. "You!" Skulker yelled over the older Phantom's attack.

Danny's arms shook from strain as he held the shield against Dan's wail for a few moments. He turned his head slightly toward the ghost behind him. "Get to the portal," he told him as he wail pushed him backward. "I'll distract him until then."

Skulker frowned, looking between the two Phantoms in confusion. "How…" he started, before looking down at Ember worriedly.

Danny followed his gaze guiltily as Dan stopped his attack. The younger ghost turned his attention back to the older, dropping the shield. "Hurry," he said, watching Dan apprehensively. Skulker didn't need to be told twice; he took off toward the human portal, leaving the two Phantoms facing off.

"I see you got my message," Dan told him snidely, watching in amusement how Danny's face contorted in rage. "Now, now – don't get all worked up."

"You're not getting to that portal," Danny told him coolly.

Dan laughed at his naivety. "You always did have such childish motives." Dan flew, standing upright as he got closer Danny. The half-ghost bristled, ready for an attack. "You think I want the portal Danny?" he asked, floating beside Danny's left. Dan moved around the teen, appearing again at Danny's right. Danny's head whipped to the other side. "Let me let you in on a little secret – I can take the portal anytime I wish." Dan's wrist came alive with an ecto-blast, launching it directly at the teen.

Anticipating the attack, Danny teleported away from the blast's trajectory - reappearing at one of the destroyed land masses. "I think you missed, old man," he taunted, throwing a series of ecto-blasts toward his older self. Dan growled, dodging the attacks with ease and flying directly for the teen. Danny braced himself as Dan collided with him, blocking Dan's flurry of punches the best he could. Going on the offensive, Danny brought his knee up to Dan's chest, pushing him away from the spectre. They flew at each other again, matching each other's blows evenly. Eventually, they broke apart, Danny slightly panting from exertion while Dan merely stood, crossing his arms.

"Tired already?" he provoked with a small smile.

Danny's eyes widened slightly as he looked Dan over; the evil Phantom showed no sign of weakness. Time to rethink this distraction. Danny took off toward the portal, flying through the destroyed islands that littered this part of the zone. Looking back, he saw Dan following closely. Danny's eyes and hands lit up blue, sending a set of icicle spears toward Dan. Dan merely swatted the icicles away, gaining speed toward the younger boy. Slightly panicked, Danny teleported again, trying to get as much distance as he could away from his future self.

Dan continued to fly toward the boy, eyes watching as Danny continued to teleport away from him, using the floating rubble as cover. He smiled, identifying a pattern as Danny continued to move. Dan waited until Danny teleported again, disappearing as he teleported to where he anticipated his younger self would end up. Arriving at the same point at the same time, Dan grabbed a hold of Danny, pinning him against a rock. One gloved hand moved to the boy's neck, squeezing tightly as he struggled under Dan's grasp. Danny glared at him as he struggled, attempting to break free and breathe easier. "It would be so easy to kill you now," Dan hissed, squeezing tighter. Danny's eyes widened as he started to gasp for air, legs kicking desperately to break free.

As Danny's vision started to fade, he heard a charging of an ecto-weapon before Dan was blasted off him. Danny gasped; coughing as he finally was able to breathe again. Dan was thrown a few feet away, stunned slightly at the two sleek saucer-like robots, each proudly displaying the Fenton logo on the top. Finally regaining himself, Danny floated up to one of the robots, smiling gratefully. "Thank you Fento-drones!" he exclaimed. Turning to his future self, he sent a stream of ice to the stunned ghost, freezing him in place.

Nodding determinedly at his work, Danny leapt up in the air and headed straight for the portal. It only took him fifteen minutes but he saw it – the swirling green hexagon that led to the lab. Relief only started to sink in before he heard a roar of anger behind him. Glancing back, he saw the burly ghost sending streams of ectoplasmic energy outward, aiming for the Fento-drones and him in the distance. Danny frowned, stopping on a small floating island close by. He watched as Dan lashed out, sending one of the Fento-drones into stone and ripping through the other one with ease. Red eyes locked with green, hungry for vengeance as Dan once again moved, blasting through any object that stood in his way.

Danny sighed, digging white boots into the ground as raw energy bubbled up inside him. His right eye lit up an electric blue as energy poured out of his fingers. He held his hands up; creating an electrifying green shield of energy that covered not only the portal, but it's surrounding areas. Dan stopped, watching the shield grow in disgust until it engulfed the portal.

Danny dropped to his hands and knees, panting as his eyes slowly returned to their normal green. Blue white sparks of electricity surrounded his aura as he gritted his teeth, glaring up at his future self. Try getting through that he thought vindictively.

The last thing Danny saw before he teleported was a slow, deliberate smile spreading across Dan's face.