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bookaddict24-7 · 2 months ago

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REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Every week I will post various reviews I've written so far in 2024. You can check out my Goodreads for more up-to-date reviews HERE. You can friend me on Goodreads here.

Have you read any of these? What were your thoughts?

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305. Kraken's Sacrifice by Katee Robert--⭐️⭐️⭐️

This was OK, kind of forgettable. Someone wrote a short review that just said "I wish this series was written better" and honestly...yes. LOL. There is SO MUCH potential here.

The romance was kind of weird, like the pacing was off. One moment he hates her and then boom--sexy time and suddenly he's in love. I also couldn't stop giggling at the fact that she sees his tentacles and immediately was like, "Yes, that. I want." Listen, I don't want to yuck anyone's yum, but I think it's okay to side-eye the fact that your husband has tentacles that could be used during fun times.

I did like the connection at the end and how communication saved the day. SEE?! Communication can even happen between a human and a Kraken Man. No excuses. But yeah, I liked the ending for this one more than book one, simply because it wasn't drawn out.

I felt really bad for the FMC and how the MMC had to overcome his grief to move forward in his life. She has had a very tragic life (as is alluded to in the beginning and can be seen in her actions throughout the novella).

Overall, this was a short and kinky story that had some spicy spice and had a very interesting dynamic. I think if this had been a bit longer and the characters were a bit more rounded, this would have been a better story.

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306. Burden Falls by Kat Ellis--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I honestly didn't know what to expect from BURDEN FALLS. At some point, I was convinced it was a vampire story--look, an Apple and Blood? Definitely TWILIGHT coded.

But no, this is a mystery with a haunting mystery, a creepy set of deaths, and a family torn apart by loss. Though it took me a bit to get into this story, I was curious throughout the whole thing and really enjoyed that twist.

I have to give props to Kat Ellis for setting such a great atmosphere. It was described so well that I could see it perfectly in my mind and I imagined myself walking through dying apple orchards, trying to figure out who keeps killing the people who've affected the MC's life in one way or another.

I will say, however, that the romance was a bit expected and predictable. But I wasn't really here for that romance, more for the mystery. BURDEN FALLS was the kind of book that I think would have been fine without the romance. BUT with that being said, I liked that neither of the characters lost themselves to their relationship.

The whole story led up to an explosive reveal and some great scary times along the way, with some pretty haunting descriptions. Definitely a great read for the Fall, especially if you're visiting an apple orchard in a small, haunted town.

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307. Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TW: Suicide Ideation, Description of SA, Threatened Gun Violence, Depression, Parental Abandonment.

I think if you liked THE CATCHER IN THE RYE, or if you empathized with Holden Caufield, you'll empathize more with this MC and his thought process. One of the things I don't think I'll ever understand about the hate CATCHER gets is that Holden is insufferable. He may be a tough pill to swallow, but that kid was extremely traumatized and in desperate need of therapy.

Much like Holden, this MC is in a very dark place. Everything he does is a cry for help--from his need to be a quiet observer just to not feel lonely, to trying to find a connection in a horrible and misguided way, this MC was on a downward spiral and the person who should have noticed the most was too self-involved to be a parent to him.

I did like, however, that despite the darker moments and the commitment to the coming end, there WERE characters who noticed the MC's mindset. They saw the signs and while the MC would set near-impossible goals for those around him to meet, he missed all of the other signs that people DID notice.

My problem when I read books like this is that I empathize so much with the MC that I almost fall into their mindset--I feel their annoyances, their frustrations, and their feelings of being misunderstood. With this MC, his mind was a very dark place to be in. While there WERE signs of others noticing his mental state, there were also signs that no one noticed. I could see how the MC might have reached this point.

I remember reading somewhere that although everyone's struggle is different, it doesn't change how giant someone's struggle still feels. The world is chaos and there are multitudes of people living truly traumatizing lives, but to a teenager, the end of the world truly DOES feel like the end of the world. This MC may have been rich and may have had freedoms that others his age never had, but his trauma and loneliness, and lack of guidance in his messy world led up to this suicidal and pivotal moment.

By the end of the book, there is little hope. BUT this is also a realistic take because mental health is an ongoing fight for the rest of one's life--especially for a teenager. Every day is a different day and you never know what might come. While the ending isn't the best, it is sadly realistic.

The topic of the gun in this book and how he mentally uses it as a way to get through his day (by quietly threatening the students around him) is a very real problem right now--especially with the school shootings--but I think it's easy to focus on those moments of the story and bypass the SA that he suffers at a young age, which essentially changed him completely.

This book isn't an easy read. It can even be incredibly triggering. But I also think it can be very important. It shows that you never really know what that person beside you is thinking, feeling, or experiencing.

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308. Hope & Other Punchlines by Julie Buxbaum--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I went through a phase a few years ago where I read a few of Buxbaum's works because they were the type of YA contemporary that had me hooked. While HOPE & OTHER PUNCHLINES had a lot of those things, I think I read this too far after I purchased it. There were certain things in here that made me give this book side eye, but it's fine. Everything is fine.

One of the things that this book definitely had going for it was the very unique approach to 9/11. And let be super clear here: when I read this, I had no idea it was about 9/11, so starting it on that same date 23 years later was not planned.

I think one of the questions a lot of people ask themselves is: Where were you when 9/11 happened? I remember I was in grade 6, hearing about it happening. I remember seeing all of the parents picking us up in a panic, thinking that Canadian schools would be next (which like...why?) and I remember my dad being very worried. And then I remember writing letters to...who? I don't know, but it's very clear in my mind that we wrote letters.

Anyway, I digress. This was such a unique take on the topic. I never even thought about what life must have been like for survivors so many years after the tragedy. Which seems callous, but I was twelve and it has become one of those things in our history that is a fact. But we're sadly at the point where we don't even do a moment of silence anymore. The human consciousness is...sometimes depressing like that.

Man, I am going off base a lot.

The romance in this book was...questionable. The connections between the two characters starts as blackmail, which was very off-putting and icky. Despite that beginning, I liked the characters and parents.

The MMC trying to find out what happened to his dad was honestly heartbreaking. I can't even imagine having that "what if" as such a big part of your identity. I think that was one of my favourite sad moments of this book--him trying to figure out this mystery, while also navigating the complicated relationships around him.

The FMC is one of those characters that had the best intentions, but made not so great choices. I did like that she was empathetic and still carved out her identity despite what the world expected of her.

If you're thinking of reading this, keep in mind that it does explore topics about loss, family, 9/11 and its after effects--such as the health side-effects so many people experienced years later.

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309. Last One to Die by Cynthia Murphy--⭐️⭐️

Meh.

this book was a blur, but not in a good way. This felt like it needed...more? Why do I care for these characters that are introduced before becoming the victims of the killer?

What was that twist? I know it had been alluded to throughout the book, but I never truly expected it. In a weird way, I would have preferred the very cliched twist.

I do think this book had a lot of potential. There were so many things that could have been done and the way everything came to light at the end would have been really great if it hadn't all been revealed at once. My main issue with LAST ONE TO DIE was that it felt under developed. Like the author was given this book as an assignment and they followed the bare minimum. Give me a more rounded character, give me a reason to care for these victims that we literally JUST met.

And seriously, I know we got an "answer" at the end, but WHY was this killer so obsessed with the MC? It was all just so flat.

I didn't make this one star because there was a lot of potential here. And I was so excited to have found this author because I love YA horror/thrillers. I have already DNFed one other book by this author.

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310. Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I had to really suspend my disbelief for this one LOL.

RUTHLESS CREATURES had a spicy and intriguing mystery throughout, but I was stuck on how quickly these two connected, especially when he is this cold and murderous human. I guess there are people out there that can tame the bad boy with their long black hair and curves. Imagine the POWER.

Anyway, I'm glad these two got to live their sexiest best lives.

This was spicy and fun and full of moments that had me giggling. This was the perfect read after reading a few heavier YA novels. I knew from the moment I started it that I was going to enjoy it for what it was. Do I agree with how fast it happened and how she just completely disregards that he's a murderer? Absolutely not. But you know, Fiction™️.

I won't lie, I'm excited to read book two. I LOVED her best friend. She's got the type of personality that would stick with you through life and death. I want to see her fall in love because she's so adamant that it doesn't exist for her. I just know that book is going to have a lot of personality. I also know it'll be hilarious and spicy af.

Anyway, I somehow read the fourth book in this series without realizing it. So, at least I know I've already enjoyed some aspect of this series. Glad I gave this one a shot!

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311. Spanking Shakespeare by Jake Wizner & Richard Ewing (Illustrator)--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I'm going to be 100% honest with this one: I almost DNF'ed SPANKING SHAKESPEARE. I came so close to not finishing this book, mainly because it was...a lot. The MC is your typical seventeen year-old horny boy and his POV took some time to get used to.

But, I'm glad I kept going because he had some good character growth throughout the story, leading up to a pretty good ending.

And while some of the humour was truly teen boy cringe, there were some genuinely funny moments. A good chunk of the events in this book are told as writing projects by the MC and I liked those retellings more than the actual out of character writing. Despite the cringe honesty, I appreciated the humour in this book. I especially laughed at that last story told in the book.

I also liked how the MC learned about others' experiences in comparison to his own. While his parents definitely do questionable stuff, he learns that there are some kids who would love to have parents like his.

I think this book would have been a very relatable source for teen boys maybe a decade or two ago. There were some pretty important topics discussed and some great moments of self-discoveries that a teen boy might appreciate.

If you want to read this because of that title, expect the humour that comes naturally with that title. But also be prepared for the cringe moments that can only come from a very honest point of view of a horny seventeen year old boy.

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312. To Be Taught, If Fortunate by Becky Chambers--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TO BE TAUGHT, IF FORTUNATE is my third Becky Chambers novella and much like the other two I've read, this one does such a great job of exploring humanity. We see it in the decisions the characters make when certain truths come to light, and when they interact to creatures that aren't from Earth.

But in a way, Chamber's novel also reminded me how small we really are in the universe. All that keeps these astronauts connected to their Earthly humanity is a delayed radio signal. I can't even imagine how lonely it must be to know that you're so far away that the people you know would be dead by the time you arrive back home.

I think this book is also a hopeful story of how humanity might treat the world beyond Earth. Preserving life, rather than conquering it? What a concept.

Overall, there is a good and interesting exploration of grief that weighs heavily over the crew. They each, in turn, experience a moment where they disconnect to process the losses they're finally coming to terms with. Even when explaining what the process of goodbye looks like before the mission, the MC keeps it partially private. Grief is a human emotion, but it is sometimes felt better in the dark, even if that could potentially lead to suicidal ideation (in the case of this book)--which is where we see that teamwork come into effect.

By the end, there is this sense of hope but also sadness that permeates the book. A sad hopefulness for a future meant to be lived beyond the story. And that's the beauty of a Becky Chambers book--she'll have you for a moment, but her writing will linger for a while afterward.

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Happy reading!

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winchesterszvonecek · 2 months ago

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I See Red 18+

Chapter 10 - Happy Birthday Selina

Word Count: 9161

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

It was May 3rd. Most commonly known inside the bunker as Selina’s birthday. And I know what you’re thinking… How is that even possible when she’s Sam’s twin and he was born on May 2nd?

Well the answer to that question is a lot simpler than you think.

You see, Sam was born at 11.56pm on May 2nd. Selina came ten minutes later. Passing midnight thus giving her an entirely different date of birth. And sure, John and Mary could have changed it in order to give them the same birthday but they opted not to.

Not that that mattered in the long run because well, you know. But still, John chose to honour Mary’s wishes of her babies having separate birthdays and so ever since the twins could remember, they each had their own special day.

Back when Selina was undergoing the harrowing trials of closing the gates of Hell, she never thought she’d live to see her next birthday. Whether the trials themselves would kill her or whether Crowley would. As after all, the two of them had been enemies at that point therefore killing her was something he would have derived great pleasure from.

Obviously things were a whole lot different now but still, if Crowley had been given the opportunity a year ago to kill Selina, he wouldn’t have hesitated. And frankly had the roles been reversed, neither would she.

It was hard to believe how much had changed in such a short period of time. How Crowley had gone from nothing but a pain in the ass demon to one of her closest friends. One who had just so happened to cause Selina to wake up sweating and in desperate need of a cold shower.

Talk about erotic dreams. She’d never once had one quite like that before and honestly, she felt like she needed to confess for the sins that just transpired between them inside her head.

Reaching over to her bedside table Selina grabbed her phone, wanting to check the time to see if it was an appropriate one to go and shower off the utter filth her dream had made her feel. It was 9.30am, which surprised her greatly as usually her brothers woke her up earlier than that by being incredibly loud.

Seriously, it was like living with a herd of elephants with how loudly they clattered about the place. Castiel included.

Deciding it was more than an appropriate time to go shower, Selina shuffled her way over to the door and opened it, stopping dead in her tracks when she was met with a rather ominous looking sign stuck to the adjacent wall. Her brow furrowed as she stepped further out, running her fingers over the words that were not so neatly written in black ink.

“To receive your dues, you must first follow these clues… Think ‘everything but…’ to begin your quest and from that spot take ten steps west?” Selina read aloud, eyebrows knitted tightly together. Then suddenly they rose, her eyes widening as the penny dropped.

It was a treasure hunt. And Selina loved treasure hunts.

Turning on her heels and forgetting all about her need for a cold shower, Selina made her way towards the kitchen, where the first clue had led her as it wouldn't take a genius to figure out that it was everything but the kitchen sink. She skidded into the room, stopping abruptly in front of the sink and from there she took ten steps west, leading her right to the coffee maker that housed her next clue.

One of these cups will bring you close to your prize, but in order to do so you must close your eyes… See that which is hidden without any trace, will only reveal if you darken this place.

Glancing to her side Selina was quick to notice the three upturned cups sitting next to the machine. However there was nothing on them. No note. No marks. Nothing.

Until it hit her.

“See that which is hidden without any trace, will only reveal if you darken this place.” She muttered, reaching towards the light switch and flicking it off.

The bottom of the cups soon began to glow with the presence of UV paint, making Selina chuckle as the boys had really gone all out today. It was starting to make her feel a little bad that all she got Sam for his birthday yesterday was a bobble-head figure of Boba Fett, when this must have taken them some time to set up and get ready for her.

Anyway, each cup had a different name painted on the bottom; Sam, Dean and Castiel. Above them, another riddle.

One of these names has more luck than us all, never has he seen that where all monsters crawl.

Well that’s easy, Selina thought to herself. All monsters crawl in Purgatory and there was only one person who hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing that place. She lifted Sam’s cup, finding a folded up piece of paper underneath once she’d turned the light back on, which read:

Don’t whine if you find there’s salt in this place, twelve steps from the door you’ll find something ace.

“Huh.” Selina breathed out, drawing her eyes across the scrawly writing as she reread her next clue. She scratched at her chin, thinking hard about where it could lead her next as truth be told, she was a little stumped.

Until it clicked. The cellar .

“Of course.” Selina chuckled, shaking her head as she couldn’t believe how long that had taken her to figure out.

It all made sense now. Whine as in a wine cellar. Salt as in salt cellar. Smart really, and don’t tell Dean but something told her that was Sam’s riddle.

As fast as she could Selina made her way to the bunker’s cellar, barreling down the steps with such excitement that she might as well have thrown herself down them. She came to a stop just inside the cellar door, before slowly she began to pace exactly twelve steps into the centre of the room, not paying any attention to the rows upon rows of alcohol they’d seem to have forgotten lived down here.

The cellar could be rather creepy at times and Selina wasn’t exactly thrilled to be standing in it. So when she found nothing but a deck of cards lying in a hole in the ground in front of her, she was quick to pick them up. She seemed to recall the riddle mentioning that she would find something ace, therefore she began to shuffle through them in search of that particular card.

All the aces bar one had been removed from the deck and when she finally found it, she wasn’t surprised to see another riddle written on the front.

Aged in the place that the King calls home, this thirty year old sits all on its own.

“Oh, well that’s easy.” Selina scoffed, tossing the card aside and making her way over to the shelf that housed the scotch. More specifically, the bottle of Craig that sat all by its lonesome.

Aged in a place that the King calls home? Crowley calls Scotland home and according to Rufus, that’s the only place that makes or sells that brand of scotch, making Selina wonder why the Men of Letters even had a bottle of it stashed away down here.

Part of her was glad they did though as not only did her next clue reside next to it, but now she had something to give Crowley in exchange for saving their lives the other week as she figured she owed him. She made a mental note to come back later and hide the bottle should Dean get his hands on it, but for now it was time to carry on with her treasure hunt.

Selina was dragged all over the bunker. From the garage to the shooting range. The library to the dungeon. She went pretty much everywhere and even ended up in places she had no idea existed. Until eventually her quest brought her to one final place. The Dean Cave.

Or the Fortress of Dean-a-tude. He hadn't quite settled on a name yet.

With excitement bubbling in her stomach Selina gripped the handle and opened the door of the strangely silent sounding room. She moved slowly as she stepped inside, just in case her brothers were waiting to ambush her with party poppers. And that’s exactly what happened as the second she crossed the threshold Sam, Dean and Castiel jumped up from behind the couch and rained colourful confetti down over her.

“Happy birthday, Cat!”

Selina was quickly pulled into three, equally as rib breaking as the other, hugs by each of the three men, Castiel surprising her greatly as she didn’t seem to recall ever hugging the angel. Maybe once or twice in the time they’d known each other. Mainly after intense moments like you know, death. But that was about the extent of it.

She had barely been released from Castiel’s arms before Dean was dragging her towards a black box that sat off to the side, the eldest Winchester all but vibrating with excitement over Selina opening it. Seriously, you’d think it was his birthday with how he was acting. Talk about golden retriever energy.

“Open it.” Dean urged, widening his eyes and smiling all giddy to himself as he watched Selina raise her hands towards what she was assuming was her treasure hunt prize.

Gripping the edge of the lid, Selina sucked in a slightly nervous breath as chances were that something was about to pop out from within the cardboard and scare the crap out of her. She warily lifted it off, her eyes widening more than they’d ever done before when she saw what was staring back at her. The one thing she would have never, ever expected to see within the walls of the bunker.

A cat.

“You guys…” Selina breathed out, her lip trembling a little as she fought with the tears that were forming in her eyes, making her feel incredibly embarrassed as she rarely ever cried. Let alone over a birthday gift. “You… You got me a cat?”

“You always wanted one, didn’t you?” Dean replied, almost questionably as given Selina’s reaction he was starting to doubt both himself and his memories of her asking if they could get a little feline friend now that they had a permanent home.

That was until she nodded her head, not trusting her own voice as she reached into the box and picked up the small, black cat. It couldn’t have been more than a year old. Male and already warming up to his new owner as it had barely been ten seconds since Selina lifted him up did the cat start headbutting her and purring.

“Hopefully he makes the treasure hunt worth it.” Sam joked, stepping up beside his sister and reaching out to gently stroke the cat’s small head.

“Are you kidding?” Selina scoffed, nuzzling her cheek over the softness of the cat's fur. “I would climb through hell for this little guy and I’m not even joking… But I do love a good treasure hunt so thank you for that. As for this, I… Thank you. Really. This is… This is already the best birthday I’ve had in a long time and it’s only just begun.”

“We’re glad.” Sam said softly, pulling Selina in for a quick sideways hug as he didn’t want to squish her cat before she’d even gotten to name it. He placed a soft kiss atop her head, adding quietly, “You’ve had a rough year. You deserve it.”

Selina didn’t manage much else but a warm smile, not fully trusting her voice again as they were making her all sappy with their chick flick moments. But she wouldn’t deny it, even she enjoyed a good chick flick now and again so she didn’t overly mind it. On the inside obviously.

On the outside she was quickly pulling herself together by wiping her eyes properly before any evidence of tears began to form. Only after allowing Castiel to hold the cat as he’d been hovering so close to her in anticipation to hold him that Selina thought he might spontaneously combust if she didn’t let him.

After all, he had agreed with her each and every time she said the bunker needed a cat so she didn’t mind sharing her gift with him. Just so long as he didn’t hog all the cuteness otherwise she’d knock him out for a few hours.

“Did you guys get him from a shelter?” Selina asked curiously, after taking the cat back from his angel uncle and planting herself down on the couch. She glanced up at her brothers, just in time to see Sam nod his head in response. “Does he have a name?”

“Yeah, but you ain’t gonna like it.” Dean replied with an amused chuckle, Selina simply tilting her head a little in question. “It was… Mittens.”

“Oh.” Selina’s face scrunched up a touch, her lips moving involuntarily as she mouthed the name like it was poison. Like seriously? Mittens? How basic can you get? “Well obviously we have to change it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Dean breathed out, rubbing his hands together and making Sam roll his eyes. It was obvious that he had some pre-thought out names stashed away inside that brain of his and that was proven correct when he said, “I have some ideas.”

“Figures.” Selina mumbled, taking a deep breath and readying herself for what was to come. “Go on.”

“The first one… Might be a little, I don’t know, on the nose maybe but what about… Cat-stiel. Get it. Like Castiel only… Cat.” Dean said, with a touch of hesitancy towards the end. He got nothing but crickets in response. Deadpan faces from his siblings and a simple furrowed brow from the namesake in question. So to save himself anymore embarrassment he quickly moved on, “No? Okay. How about Cat-rick Swazye. Like Patrick Swazye… Oh! Or Cat Damon. ”

“What about Kit?” Sam suggested, turning his attention away from Dean whose smile fell swiftly into an overdramatic frown.

Those were good name ideas, Dean thought to himself. They just don’t get it.

“Kit.” Selina repeated, glancing down at her new green eyed friend. Sure Kit was a pretty basic name too, and truth be told she kind of like Cat Damon, but something about it just felt right. Especially when maybe-Kit looked up at her the second the name fell from her lips. She picked him up, holding him in front of her face and asking quietly, “Is that your name, little guy? Is your name Kit?”

Meow.

“That settles it then.” Selina chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to Kit’s head as she lowered him back down onto her knee and trailed her fingertips lightly over his back. “Welcome to the family, Kit.”

“Kit and Cat.” Dean said humorously, folding his arms over his chest that was erupting in warmness over how happy Selina looked. “I see what you did there, Sammy.”

Everybody knew that Selina’s favourite candy bar was a KitKat. It always has been. Ever since the first Halloween that Dean had snuck her and Sam out on, she’d grown to love them. Therefore the name couldn’t be anymore perfect.

After breakfast the four of them, and Kit, headed into town. More specifically to the local pet store where they could pick up a few things for their new houseguest, as that was one thing Sam, Dean and Castiel hadn’t done as they knew Selina would want to do it herself.

And they were right. She couldn’t have been more excited to start picking things out for Kit. Like a couple of fluffy beds to place around the bunker, mainly one in the Dean-Cave, the library and Selina’s own bedroom. Although something told her that last one wouldn’t be necessary as Kit was more than likely going to end up curled up beside her in her own bed.

Not that she’d have any problem with that but it was nice to be prepared.

She picked out about a dozen different kinds of toys, or more so Kit did as they let him roam around the shop a couple of times and everything he so much as sniffed at, Selina would add into the basket. But it’s not like she was paying for it as Dean had made it clear that everything was on him. Or more so the rigged credit card Charlie had made for them, meaning it was all on some random stranger and not any of them.

Last of all came time to choose a collar for Kit, something Selina wasn’t sure whether she was going to get or not since he’d more than likely never leave the bunker. But as Sam so helpfully pointed out, the bunker was a big place. Easy to get lost in, especially for a small cat. Therefore a collar with a little bell on it might come in handy should Kit ever wander off and stress Selina out when she couldn’t find him.

“Okay Kit,” Selina began, crouching down in front of the row of different coloured collars she’d picked out. She placed Kit down, holding him gently in place before adding, “Time to choose your collar.”

Releasing her hold on Kit, Selina waited eagerly for him to walk towards whichever colour collar he felt drawn to. As did the others as they had a little side bet going on and whoever lost had to buy the first round of drinks at the party they had planned for tonight.

Dean was betting on black, his words to live by anytime they went to Vegas. Sam chose orange, Castiel went for blue and Selina herself was hoping for purple, that way it would match her hair for the time being as she was due a colour change at some point.

But little Kit didn’t choose any of those. Instead he went for the one colour that had Selina’s stomach flutter briefly. Red.

“Great.” Dean mumbled, annoyed over losing. “We picked a demonic cat… How long do you think we have before he goes all Pet Sematary on us?”

“Relax, will you?” Selina muttered, shaking her head and swallowing down the butterflies that seemed to be working their way up her throat. “It’s just a collar.”

“A red collar.” Dean pointed out, although Selina didn’t hear him as she was too busy picking out one of those mouse on a string toys for Kit after he looked in the general direction of one. “Might as well call him Crowley.”

That , however, Selina did hear. And she wouldn’t deny, it made her feel all warm and tingly inside as that was also the first place her mind went to the second Kit’s nose touched the dark red collar. As though it was the universe's way of giving her a sign. Telling her that it was okay that she be all but head over heels for the King of Hell in ways she’d never felt before. With anyone.

But that was ridiculous. It was just a collar choice and so Selina pushed those thoughts as deep into the back of her mind as she could, simply focusing on getting to know her new pet once they returned home. She didn’t have long before she had to leave him alone for the night, to attend a party that was a celebration of both her own birthday and Sam’s, so she wanted to get as much Kit-time in as she could.

As she already seemed to be developing a slight touch of separation anxiety towards him as he was just too damn cute for her to want to leave.

However, Dean had planned this party for a few weeks now and so she had no choice but to suck it up and leave Kit alone for a few hours. She knew he’d be fine, that he’d most likely sleep the entire time but that still didn’t mean she wouldn’t worry.

It was more than likely that she’d end up making Castiel fly home a few times throughout the night just to check in on him and something told her the angel wouldn’t mind one bit.

He’d spent the entire time Selina was getting ready playing with Kit, who appeared to enjoy pushing around the hoops that sat on the table in the War Room more than he did playing with his new toys. Figures.

Eventually though the Winchesters and their angel were the ones enjoying themselves. surrounded by their friends in the local bar. Which Selina was surprised to find out Dean had rented for the entire night so they didn’t end up with strangers ruining the vibe.

Everyone Selina could ever want to celebrate her birthday with was there.

Henry. Jody and the girls, both of whom had made Selina a bracelet that she would cherish forever. Donna and Charlie were there. Garth and Benny. Kevin, who was looking so much better now that he was able to go back to a somewhat normal life. Even Aaron had shown up, having taken a break from tracking down the Thule and had thankfully left his golem at home.

All of the most special people in Selina’s life were there. All except one.

“Just so you know…” Dean said quietly as he approached her, noticing the way she was glancing around and seemed almost disappointed when she realised he wasn’t there. “I did invite him.”

“You did?” Selina turned to him, surprise written all over her face as she never, ever would have thought that Dean would willingly invite Crowley to her birthday party.

In fact, she didn’t even know why she was searching around for the demon given that thought. Perhaps she had been hoping that he’d just show up unannounced given what day it was. But that was a fool’s dream. There was no way the King of Hell was going to pop in, uninvited, to a party full of hunters and a few people he’d almost killed. Talk about a death wish.

“I did.” Dean nodded, pouring Selina another drink as she appeared to have downed the entirety of her first in one swift mouthful. “I figured you might want him here. For whatever reason.”

“And what did he say?”

“Well I didn’t get a yes from him… But I didn’t exactly get a no either.”

“I’m sure he’s busy.” Selina said casually, sipping at her freshly poured scotch and acting like she didn’t care. When truthfully, she did. She cared a lot and she wouldn’t lie, she felt a little crushed that Crowley hadn’t shown up. “You know what they say, Hell never stops.”

“Remind me again, who says that?”

“I don’t know.” Selina shrugged, pushing off the bar and turning to walk away, adding quickly, “I’m sure someone does.”

At that Selina walked off, heading in the direction of Donna and Charlie who were in the corner gossiping away to one another. No doubt about hunting as the two of them had picked up quite a taste for it recently and would often call Selina for advice and whatnot. Something she didn’t mind one bit as it made her feel like Bobby and at times like this, she really missed the only dad she ever knew.

But this wasn't the time to get emotional over who she missed or who wasn't here. This was a time to celebrate the fact that both she and Sam had made it to another birthday and therefore it was time to get the party officially started.

A little while later though, Selina found that she needed a small breather from the evening festivities, and the fact that Garth was up on stage singing ABBA songs, again. She slipped quietly outside when everyone else was otherwise occupied, a small touch of relief washing over her at the silence emanating around her. She could still hear Garth putting his entire heart and soul into Dancing Queen but it wasn’t nearly as loud as it was inside.

The crunch of the gravel beneath her feet was barely audible as she walked out into the parking lot. Nor was the soft squeak of Jody’s truck when she hopped up onto the back of it, the coldness of the metal sending a subtle chill up her spine. And that wasn’t the only chill she felt either as barely ten seconds after she’d settled on the vehicle did she feel another.

Only this one hadn’t so much to do with the cold as it did the heat. More so the heat this particular person caused her.

Selina’s eyes shifted to the side, where she soon spotted that certain someone emerging from the cover of darkness. His signature move. She smiled, sweetly enough that it caused Crowley’s heart to flutter in about a thousand and one different ways.

All of which he’d truly never felt before. Not even when he was fully human.

Crowley made his way towards her, his footsteps even lighter than her own had been and with each painstakingly slow one he took, the more Selina’s stomach began to twist. As though someone had tied a rope around it and was seeing how much force it would take for it to burst.

Despite her earlier thoughts, she truthfully hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, not after what happened last time. It’s not that she regretted kissing him, as she positively did not . And she expected he felt the same.

It was more so the fact that she didn’t know whether or not she’d be able to control herself now that she’d gotten a taste for it. An addiction if you will. One that was urging her to throw herself upon him the closer he got to her. But luckily for her, and anyone inside who might have stepped out just in time to witness that, Crowley spoke.

“Close your eyes.” He said softly, his movements coming to a stop as he now stood directly in front of her. Close enough that the light breeze surrounding them had his coat brush lightly over her knees, sending a shiver shooting right up Selina’s legs.

Crowley watched as she did what he’d asked, without hesitation too which only showed him how much trust she had in him now. The old Selina would have never closed her eyes around him. Not whilst she was unarmed anyway.

Yet here she was, completely vulnerable and had this been the old Crowley, perfectly ripe for killing. But instead he simply lifted her hands, fixing them so that they were upturned and forming a tiny table on which he could place a box that housed something so special that he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to tell Selina the truth about it.

“Open.” He whispered, taking a step back just as Selina’s darkened eyes opened, lingering on his face for a lot longer than he’d have expected them to before they finally dropped to the box in her hands.

Selina’s heart skipped a beat as she ran her fingers along the soft, red ribbon tied around it. Which made her smile as she didn’t miss the obvious colour choice and she wouldn’t have expected anything less. Honestly it reminded her a lot of Kit’s collar and she only began to feel more grateful that the little guy had chosen it.

Excitedly, yet at the same time nervously, Selina grabbed one end of the ribbon, pulling it carefully and allowing it to come undone. She lifted the lid of the box, her heartbeat increasing drastically at what lay beneath. A silver necklace. With nothing but a small, teardrop shaped, red ruby hanging in the middle.

Simple, yet beautiful.

It very nearly took Selina’s breath away once she lifted it, setting the box aside and raising the gem in order to get a better look at it. She could have sworn it was moving, like there was some kind of liquid swimming around inside it. Almost like magic. But that would be ridiculous as why would Crowley give her a magic necklace? So instead she just chalked it up to a trick of the light, mixed with the handful of scotches she’d drank that evening.

Crowley said nothing. Did nothing but metaphorically hold his breath as he didn’t even need to breathe, but the situation called for it. Selina’s silence was almost deafening and for a split second, when she raised the necklace closer to her eyes, he thought she had figured it out. That she was going to reject it, thus crushing his very heart and soul.

But she didn’t.

Instead Selina lowered her hand, lifting her eyes to meet his as she softly whispered, “It’s beautiful, Crowley.”

“May I?” Crowley held out his hand and Selina was quick to set the necklace into his palm. She slid off the truck and turned around, lifting her hair out of the way and allowing him to fasten it around her neck, unaware that she’d be the only one capable of ever taking it off.

Not even Crowley himself would ever be able to undo the clasp and perhaps one day he’d tell Selina that. But today was not that day.

Today was about Selina and he didn’t want anything to take that away from her. Not when she deserves to have a good birthday after all she’s been through since her last.

Allowing her hair to fall across her back Selina turned around, her heartbeat quickening when Crowley reached towards her to fix an out of place strand, tucking it neatly behind her ear. His fingertips grazed lightly across her cheek as he pulled his hand briefly back, taking her chin between thumb and forefinger, feeling the heat on her face slowly rise and within a few seconds her once pale skin had flushed scarlet.

“Happy birthday, Selina.”

Selina smiled warmly, stepping forward as Crowley’s hand dropped back to his side. She leaned in, doing nothing but staring deeply into his eyes and wishing that what lay beyond them wasn’t dark, red and partially twisted. That had there been nothing but a human conscience behind those intoxicating, chestnut brown eyes then perhaps things between them could be different.

But there wasn’t. As far as Selina knew there was only that charming demon essence swimming around inside and therefore she manoeuvred her lips to land on Crowley’s cheek instead, as she had fully intended to meet his own had her mind not told her otherwise.

“Thank you.” Selina whispered, her mouth lingering there for a handful of seconds longer than necessary before she finally pulled back to a somewhat safe distance, the smile still present on her face as she glanced down at the necklace that lay perfectly between her collarbones.

Was it crazy that that had felt somehow more intimate than their proper kiss had? Maybe. Or maybe it was just the situation itself. But whatever the cause, both of them were a touch relieved that Selina opted to kiss Crowley’s cheek, otherwise who knows what might have happened next.

“You’re welcome, darling.” Crowley said happily, the relief over her acceptance of his gift washing all of his previous worries away.

He wouldn’t lie. He’d been dreading this moment from the second he hung up the phone with Dean earlier, when he called to inform him that it was Selina’s birthday and, astonishingly, invited him to her party. Of course Crowley already knew it was Selina’s birthday as he was absolutely smitten with her. He had also intended to give her the necklace regardless of his invitation but that didn’t mean he found it to be any less nerve wracking than it had been before.

Imagine, the King of Hell finding himself so nervous to give a gift to a human that he hadn’t been able to focus on anything the entire day, meaning there were demons who would live to see a few extra days. And for nothing too as Selina had no reason to reject the necklace when she didn’t know the truth about it. She just thought it was a ruby necklace. She had no reason to suspect otherwise and for as long as Crowley could, he’d keep it that way.

He wasn’t prepared for the heartbreak it would cause him should Selina return the gift so he was left with no other choice than to keep his mouth shut about it for the meantime.

“I actually have a little something for you too.” Selina said mysteriously, making Crowley’s eyebrow arch out of intrigue. She motioned zipping her lips, instead holding out one arm and urging him to take it. “Walk with me?”

“Like I could say no.” Crowley breathed out, slipping his arm around hers and feeling the warmth that had never left his chest heat up even more when Selina leaned her head against his shoulder as they began to walk. In the direction of the bunker, he seemed to realise, prompting him to tease, “Have I finally been good enough to be granted access to your top secret hideout?”

“You have.” Selina replied, unable to help the smile that tugged on her lips from forming because of course he’d phrase it that way. “But it stays between us. I can’t have my brothers knowing otherwise they’ll change the locks with me on the outside.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Selina said nothing else the entire five minute walk to the bunker, simply opting to enjoy Crowley’s company in a way that didn’t want to make her jump his bones as his voice always seemed to do that to her. Good thing he didn’t talk much, right? Wrong. He never shut up most of the time and it made things that much harder for Selina and the burning desire she now seemed to have for him.

Eventually though they reached the bunker, which Crowley marvelled at the minute he stepped inside. After all those years of trying to break his way through the wardings, he was finally here. And truth be told he didn’t even care. The knowledge and occult objects that lived inside the walls were nothing to him anymore, not when there was something much, much more special living there now.

“Wait here.” Selina told him, not even giving him a chance to reply before she’d disappeared out of the room and left him standing in the library. She made her way to the cellar, popping her head into her room to check on Kit on her way there and to no surprise the little guy was curled up, asleep on her bed, allowing her to carry on to the furthest depths of the bunker.

It didn’t take Selina long to return to the library in which Crowley was slowly pacing, admiring some of the books that might have come in handy for him at one time or another. Her soft footsteps alerted him to her presence and he spun quickly on his heels, catching her on her way up the steps with a rather excited look on her face and her hands behind her back.

“Do you remember back when Sam said yes to Lucifer? After he jumped into the Cage and I spent weeks upon weeks at Bobby’s house looking for a way to pull him out?”

“Vaguely.” Crowley replied, his brow dipping out of confusion as he had no idea what that had to do with anything and the only reason he knew about that was because she kept summoning him to ask him for help. To which he kept saying no.

“And when I couldn’t do that I instead opted to help Bobby out with his little… Issue.” Selina said carefully, not wanting to reopen old wounds of Crowley’s betrayal in keeping Bobby’s soul.

“Yes, I seem to recall you making good on Bobby’s threat of filling me so full of rock salt that I crap margaritas.” Crowley quoted, a less than fond smile rising on his lips as he added, “Always a way with words that Mr Singer… But I’m not sure what you’re getting at. Unless you have a shotgun hidden behind your back and you wish to relive that moment.”

“Not exactly.” Selina chuckled, dropping her head a little as she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed that she even remembered this about Crowley when it had happened what felt like a lifetime ago. “But you’re, uh… You’re not the only one who remembers details from that day.”

“No?” Crowley questioned, before finally Selina revealed what was hidden behind her back. His eyes fell, widening just a touch when they landed on the unopened bottle of Craig she had in her hands.

“I figured I at least owed you something for all the times you’ve saved my ass recently so… here.” Selina held the bottle out towards him. “It’s nothing in comparison to what you’ve done for me but hopefully it’s a start. I mean, it is your brand isn’t it?”

“That it is.” Crowley replied, moving closer to her and reaching out to take the bottle. He admired the label, coming to the conclusion that it was in fact the real deal and not some cheap American knock-off. “I’m surprised you remembered. We weren’t exactly on the best of terms back then.”

“That didn’t stop you from flirting with me any chance you got though, did it?” Selina pointed out, folding her arms across her chest and thinking back to all the times she’d gone and just rolled her eyes whenever he attempted to smooth talk her.

Whereas now she simply melted into a puddle anytime he so much as looked at her. Let alone flirted with her.

Kind of like he was doing now. Looking at her like she was his entire world and making her question herself even more so than normal.

Reaching out towards him, Selina took the bottle from his hands, paying no attention to his furrowing brows as she set it aside on a nearby bookshelf. Her gaze took a lot longer than it should have to meet his and once again she was finding herself drawn to the demon in almost inexplicable ways.

“You know… I usually treat myself to a little something on my birthday. But this year? I don’t know, I just haven’t been able to figure out what I want…” Selina began, inching her way that much closer to him. She lifted her hand, walking her fingers slowly up the length of his tie and tugging at the knot as her eyes never once left his. “Until now.”

Dragging her thumb down his lips, Selina could not only hear the shortened breath Crowley let out, but she could feel it too. Sudden, sharp and trembling in all the best ways. His eyes fell instantly to her lips, drawing his tongue over his own and before he could even speak, whether it be a shameless flirt or to voice his minor concerns over doing this again, Selina had kissed him.

She really knew how to rile him up just enough to make him unable to resist her once she got started as even with the alarm bells blaring inside his mind, Crowley made no effort to stop.

In fact, he did the exact opposite in that he was completely and utterly devouring her, like a man so starved that he simply couldn’t slow down. Unable to pull away as the taste and feel of her mouth on his was, to put it twilight-ly, like his own personal brand of heroin.

But despite that his hands remained by his sides. Limp, yet still twitching to reach out and grab her. This prompted Selina to take matters into her own and lift them, placing them on her waist as she wanted to make the most out of this moment and feel as much of him at once as she possibly could.

Only, Crowley wasn’t so sure that was the best idea. Like he’d told her last time they kissed like this, he wasn’t known for his self restraint and the last thing he wanted was to go too far and ruin that which they’d built since the night she saved him. And so he dropped his hands, safely, back to his sides, which had Selina sigh softly and pull away from him.

“Crowley, if I wanted to kiss someone who wouldn’t touch me, I’d kiss Cas.”

“I’m sorry, darling, I just…” Crowley exhaled, dropping his eyes to the floor and taking a breath before looking back up at her, adding softly, “I can’t help but think about what you said last time we were in this position.”

“To shut up and keep kissing me?” Selina questioned playfully, tilting her head a little as a small smile began to tug at her slightly kiss swollen lips. She knew what he meant, of course she did, but forgive her for wanting to have a little fun on her birthday with the only person she truly wanted.

“Before that.”

“I know what I said. And I know this might not be the best idea in the long run but I don't care. It’s my birthday and you know what they say about birthdays… That what happens on them stays… on them.” Selina said questionably, her brows furrowing a little as she was fairly certain that didn’t make as much sense as it had in her head.

“That's Vegas.” Crowley corrected, making Selina frown.

“Who cares.” She sighed, shaking her head and brushing the whole thing off. She raised her hands to take his face in them, feeling that he, once again, leaned into the warmth and comfort of her touch. “I know you’re worried about what I said but can’t we just set that aside for a little while? I mean, it is my birthday after all.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you as no offence, but you taste like a bottle of scotch. And not the good kind either.” He teased, finding amusement in the way Selina’s eyes narrowed towards him as though silently telling him to watch himself.

Regardless she still smiled, knowing fully well her taste in scotch was nothing compared to him and his bottle of Craig. She leaned closer, planting a light, barely feelable kiss on his lips before whispering, “I’m sober enough to know that I want this.”

Another kiss. Only this time, firmer.

“Sober enough to know that we should probably stick to first base.” Again, another kiss. “Maybe even second base as what I meant before was that I want you to touch me.” Her voice deepened, becoming nothing but a breathy whisper as she pleaded against his lips, “Please touch me.”

Crowley’s features darkened almost instantaneously, his eyes filling with an intense desire that had Selina’s stomach flutter furiously in every single way possible. He obliged, grabbing her waist and pulling her as close to him as he could without them morphing into some weird hybrid creature, hearing the already pleasure-filled gasp that left Selina’s lips at the mere hotness of his body against her own.

“You want me to touch you?” Crowley asked, his voice low and soft yet at the same time it was almost demanding. Dominating. At a pitch so deep it sent that much of a shiver rippling across Selina’s body that he’d been able to feel it. “Where? Where do you want me to touch you, darling?”

Selina’s head lifted from where it had fallen forwards in her lust filled daze, her face expressionless and for a split second Crowley thought she was about to change her mind and had come to realise this would be a bad idea after all.

That was until she leaned into him again, brushing her semi-parted lips over every inch of his skin that she crossed on her way to his ear, where she whispered softly, slowly, “Everywhere.”

Selina pulled back just in time to see the slight twitch of Crowley’s lips as he slowly dragged his hands down the curve of her waist, feeling the change in material when they fell from her jacket and onto her jeans. He paused, watching hungrily as Selina pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding briefly in attempts to ease the hint of worry she could see behind his eyes over moving forward.

“First… Lose the jacket.” Crowley demanded, ghosting his thumb lightly over the small portion of Selina’s skin that was peeking out through the gap between her waistband and t-shirt. Giving her a little taste of what was to come if she rid herself of the unnecessary extra layer of clothing she sported.

In the blink of an eye Selina’s jacket was on the floor, leaving her in nothing but an old band tee that was a size too small for her. She really should restock her wardrobe at some point but right now she was far, far too preoccupied with what was about to happen to worry about her clothing situation.

“Much better.” Crowley slowly moved his thumb further up the curve of her waist, until his entire hand had delved its way underneath her t-shirt, planting itself firmly against the heat of her skin that was very quickly erupting in goosebumps.

Selina’s arm hooked around the back of Crowley’s neck, pulling his face closer to her and allowing her the added opportunity of being able to kiss him whilst he took his sweet, sweet time simply exploring what was beneath her shirt. Mainly her waist and lower back as he was a touch afraid to move any further north.

Humming softly into his mouth, Selina relished in each and every brush of his fingertips across her skin. So caring. So gentle. Making her almost forget that Crowley was the current ruler of Hell. But even despite his demonic nature he always had been considerate of her as of late. He made her feel warm. Safe. Like no harm would ever come to her when he was around, by his hands especially. Which was exactly why she showed no objections when he picked her up and placed her gently atop the library table.

Without thinking Selina parted her legs, allowing Crowley to position himself between them and once he did, they tightened around him in a way that had a deep groan rattle up his chest and escape into her mouth. His hands fell from her torso and landed upon her thighs, his fingers digging deep into her jean-covered flesh as he slowly moved them upwards, rounding her hips and adding even more pressure when he pulled them closer to him.

“Fuck, Crowley.” Selina gasped, in such a tone that Crowley’s movements faltered a touch on their way back up her body.

But he was quick to regain himself, her words giving him that much needed push to move even higher. And when he did? When his thumb ghosted right along the edge of her lace bra, Selina couldn’t fight back the soft moan that worked its way up her throat, escaping into the air and letting him know exactly what he was doing to her.

“Now there’s a pretty sound.” Crowley whispered, an almost smug smile rising on his lips. He lifted one hand to cup the side of her neck, using the gentle hold to pull her face closer so that he could kiss her again. Wanting to be able to taste her moans should he elicit anymore.

It was just then, when Selina leaned a touch closer to Crowley that he could explicitly make out the shape of piercings when they pressed against his chest, that they both knew they wouldn’t be sticking to second base. How could they? The moment was so perfect. So longed for that it would take a great deal of force to pull them apart.

Or, you know, the sound of the bunker door opening.

Selina pushed Crowley back with such strength that he almost tripped over his feet, barely managing to steady himself before she slid off the table and acted as though nothing had happened. She picked up her jacket, throwing it back on and untucking her long hair from beneath as the echoing of feet on metal grew closer, causing a small amount of panic to grow within her as she was at odds of what to do.

Crowley hadn’t vanished yet, like he normally would. He didn’t appear like he was planning to either, leaving Selina with no other choice but to grab him and usher him into the corner of the library. She held a finger to her lips, motioning for him to be quiet. He nodded, obviously wanting to stick around as who knows, perhaps the intruder had just come to pick something up and would soon be on their merry way again.

Leaving the two of them to pick up where they left off, as this time, Crowley couldn’t shake the feeling. It was taking everything in him not to pull Selina into the corner with him and give whoever had interrupted them quite a show, so he really hoped this wouldn’t take much longer.

“Henry?” Selina questioned, revealing herself just in time to see Henry descend the last step into the bunker. He jumped a little, clearly having not expected her to be here. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine.” Henry replied, flashing Selina a reassuring smile as she stepped down from the library with a knowing look on her face.

Truth be told, she’d been wondering how long it would take him to retreat back to the bunker as he’d spent the entire night huddled away in the corner. Reading.

“You’re not really a party person, are you?”

“That obvious, huh?” Henry chuckled, running a hand over the back of his neck and catching the slight raise of Selina’s eyebrows. It really wasobvious. “I am sorry, Selina…”

“Henry, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologise.” Selina said assuringly, stepping further down into the war room as a gentle smile rose on her face. “Parties aren’t for everyone, I know that… But I appreciate you holding out for as long as you did. And I'm really happy you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Henry said softly, stepping closer to Selina and gently placing his hand aside her face. His eyes cast over her, taking in her delicate features and it wasn’t long before a fond smile rose on his lips and he whispered, “You look so much like my mother.”

“I do?”

“You do.” Henry nodded, dropping his hand and picking up one of her purple curls, chuckling softly, “Well, you mostly do… My mother was blonde.”

“I, uh…” Selina cleared her throat, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions that had nothing to do with what happened between her and Crowley only seconds ago. In fact, she sort of forgot he was still there. Hiding. Listening. “I was too.”

Henry’s eyebrow raised as he asked, “Really? If I had to hazard a guess, I’d have said you were a brunette. Like Sam.”

“Yeah, I would have too but I guess the women in the family are meant to be blonde.”

“And may I ask… Why did you change yours?”

Selina froze, her heart pounding so hard beneath her chest that she was surprised Henry couldn’t hear it. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Not when it would crush him in unfixable ways. Ruin everything he thought he knew about the man his son grew up to be. The man they’d made up. And so she lied.

“There was no real reason.” Selina shrugged, playing it casual when in reality she was a mess inside and struggling to keep herself together. “Just thought it would look cool.”

“Well it certainly does. Even if I haven’t quite gotten used to it yet.” Henry said humorously, making Selina force a smile in response. “Regardless, you still look very much like my mother when she was young… You remind me of her too. Fearless. Passionate. And never afraid to say what she truly thought.”

That made Selina smile for real this time, the hammering of her heart slowly as her chest filled with nothing but love for a woman she’d never met.

“She sounds like a great woman.”

“She was.” Henry nodded, smiling fondly before asking, “Would you care to hear more about her? I have a few stories that I think you’ll enjoy.”

Selina couldn’t bring herself to say no, not when she didn’t get many moments like this with Henry and so she replied, “I’d really like that… Can you give me a few minutes first?”

“Of course. I’ll make us some tea and I’ll meet you in Dean’s cave when you're ready.”

Henry headed off towards the kitchen, allowing Selina to let out the rather deep breath she didn’t realise she had sucked in. She spun on her heels, ascending back up the steps into the library as Crowley moved from the corner, a slight touch of disappointment clouding his otherwise emotionless face.

“Raincheck?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Selina replied softly, regretfully. She stepped closer to him, bringing her hand up just enough to take his and lightly drawing her thumb over the back of it. “What happened tonight was amazing. It felt amazing and I won’t lie, had Henry not come home early I would have let you have me right there on the table…”

Damn, she really wasn’t making this any easier, Crowley thought to himself.

“But that wouldn’t have been fair. On either of us. So I think it’s best that we don’t…” Selina sighed, the words not coming to her as easy as she hoped as she never wanted to have to say them. “That we don’t see each other for a little while.”

“Selina…”

“Just until these feelings die down a little.” She added, quickly and before he could say anything to make her say sike. “Please?”

“Okay, darling.” Crowley said softly, reluctantly. Of course he didn’t want to stay away from her any longer than he already did but if that’s what she wished for, then he’d agree. He raised his hand, lightly brushing his fingertips down the side of her face as his eyes gazed upon her.

Like he was taking a mental picture out of fear that he’d forget what she looked like.

Selina leaned in to steal one last kiss from him. One so soft. So gentle that it made things even harder than they already were. But she had no choice. She needed to put some space between them before she fell too hard and ended up getting hurt. So she did the one thing she never wanted to have to do.

She let him go.

Chapter 11 ->

#crowley #supernatural #crowley x oc #crowley x original character #supernatural fanfic series

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dedalvs · 2 years ago

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what kind of books do you like reading?

My favorite era is 19th century Russian literature. Some of my favorites from there are Dead Souls by Gogol, Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev, Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin, and Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov (I was utterly baffled as to why everyone was talking about Ivan Goncharov when I came back to Tumblr!). I loved a lot of early 20th century American literature, in particular F. Scott Fitzgerald, who was an early hero, and I also read a lot of Joseph Heller and Vladimir Nabokov (Russian/American). I've read everything by Franz Kafka—even the bizarre stuff, like Amerika—and loved it all. My favorite writer of all time is Virginia Woolf, and I love reading writers who experiment with style (Lewis Carroll, of all people, has a nice early example of stream of consciousness with Sylvie and Bruno). I think the best piece of writing I've ever seen from America is Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison.

I've also read and enjoyed some stuff from the 16th-18th centuries (in particular, Ludovico Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, Edmund Spencer's The Faerie Queene, and John Milton's Paradise Lost), but a lot more that's a lot older. Giovanni Boccaccio's The Decameron is a great collection of tales like The Canterbury Tales, but better (note: I haven't yet read 1,001 Nights. Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur was a lot of fun. I slowed down a lot about eight years ago). I even love the fake ones that are tales within tales like Jan Potocki's The Manuscript Found at Saragossa. But I love chasing down and reading older works, like sagas and epics. Some of my favorites are The Nibelungenlied, The Kalevala, Njal's Saga, and The Epic of Sundiata. Gilgamesh is absolutely incredible. I've read some clunkers, though, like The Song of Roland, which I found dry, dull, and short.

As my reading slowed, I liked to read books aimed at young readers. Growing up, I loved the Oz books, which I find to be an utterly fascinating example of uniquely American (and non-European) fantasy. We have that and Little Nemo, but most other fantasy you get (outside of modern times) is distinctly European, and owes more to Lord Dunsany and Tolkien than anyone else. I loved The 13 1/2 Lives of Captain Bluebear, which I just finished ready to my daughter (Walter Moers). Michael Ende's The Neverending Story is probably the best book for young readers I've read. And then there's the Moomin books by Tove Jansson... What a find those were! Written for kids, but so unbelievably melancholic and subtle! Every page is packed with so much loneliness and longing! I couldn't even believe what I'd read after reading Tales from Moomin Valley. "The Fillyjonk who Believed in Disasters" is something I think every adult should read. It reminds me a bit of The Magic Mountain (see below) in how subtly it captures a character or series of character traits that are quite natural and recognizable, but so hard to pin down! Tove Jansson was brilliant.

For utter, nonsensical, bizarre, indulgent, and absurd escapism, I read E. T. A. Hoffmann. It's hard to even describe how ridiculous his stuff is. Like...you read this stuff, and are saying, "You can't DO that! You'd be laughed off AO3 for that!" And yet he does. And he doesn't care. He had an audience of one, and that was himself. I have no idea how his works are even remembered. Utterly bizarre.

That captures a lot of it. Here are some that don't fit elsewhere:

The Buru Quartet by Pramoedya Ananta Toer (masterful)

Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller (wrecked me)

Moby Dick by Herman Melville (tore through it!)

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (this one, too! Thick book, but such a quick and joyful read—and written with such exquisite detail!)

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (one of the best of the 19th century)

The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann (so subtle... Let me tell you, this is a long book, and like, it's 90% over, and suddenly this new character is introduced, and it's like, "What even is this…?", and yet, somehow, he takes like 50 pages, and you suddenly care about this guy... Astonishing)

The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton (tour de force; her best, in my opinion)

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut (his best that I've read, and the one I'd recommend to everyone)

Forest of a Thousand Daemons by D. O. Fagunwa (terrible translation, but so wonderfully inventive!)

Black Elk Speaks (I want to mention this, because I really loved it, but it has a problematic history, so fyi)

True Grit by Charles Portis (one of the most beautiful short novels I've ever read; the Cohen Bros. adaptation is actually very, very close to it)

The Awakening by Kate Chopin (what a smack in the face that one is!)

The Tempest by Shakespeare (my favorite of his)

The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass (best written work from America in the 19th century)

The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin (by contrast, one of the most ridiculous things I've ever read in my life; HILARIOUS)

Journey to the West by Wu Cheng'en (read the whole thing, and...wow. lol So much repetition with humor throughout capped off by brilliance)

The Bostonians by Henry James (the best demonstration of exactly what he aimed to do: produce an ending that has two equally plausible and utterly opposite interpretations that can both be supported textually)

Nohow On by Samuel Beckett (the culmination of his work, and a worthy one)

Three Tales by Gustave Flaubert (I bawled—loudly—after reading "A Simple Heart"; I couldn't help it)

Thanks for asking this! It's been so long since I've really read... It's nice to remember. I wanted to read the Studs Lonigan trilogy for ages now... Oh, and I went through a Gabriel García Márquez phase! And Tom Robbins! And, of course, I've read all the wonderful comic novels by my friend Nina Post, whose wit astounds me.

Okay, now I'm just not getting to sleep. But this is some of what I've read that I've loved. Also, for certain things, I've read a lot (like 19th century Russian literature and Samuel Beckett), so I can tell you what not to read. For example, A Hero of Our Time by Lermontov? Pass. Same with The Golovlovs by Saltykov-Shchedrin. You can probably pass on War and Peace, as well, due to its girth, but you're going to miss some good stuff (amidst a lot of dry stuff).

Okay, hitting the button now! I'm done.

(Oh, but if you were assigned Their Eyes Were Watching God and kind of passed on it because it was a "school book", that was a mistake!!!)

(Oh, Cane by Jean Toomer!)

(Oh, and if you want a short one that has a "wah-wah!" ending, check out As I Lay Dying by Faulkner! lol That rascal...)

(OH! And the "school book" thing? Hard ditto on Of Mice and Men. Holy shit, that book... Wow.)

(OMG BABBIT!!!!! I loved it!!! Pass on Main Street, though.)

(Oh, and John Updike can miss me with his Rabbit stuff... YIKES!)

(Oh, and if you like Woody Allen's style but not Woody Allen, try Portnoy's Complaint.)

(Last one: Jasmine by my short fiction professor Bharati Mukherjee, who sadly passed away far too soon. On the last day of class, she'd forgotten she was going to have us read Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky. As we were walking out the door, she made us promise to read it. I never saw her again, but I did, Ms. Mukherjee, and it was tremendous. Thank you so much for what you gave me. I had so much trouble showing my work to other people before that class. You helped me so much, and I wish I could've told you. You may think those who have influenced you will be around forever for you to thank one day, but they're not. Today's the day. Tell them what they meant to you. You'll regret it if you don't.)

#books #reading #literature #too many to tag #but I'm tagging Virginia Woolf #she's amazing #if I could recommend one for Tumblr #Orlando #you won't regret it #oh and Emily Dickinson #OH THE BOSTONIANS BY HENRY JAMES #adding it now

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silkendandelion · 25 days ago

Text

Million Dollar Baby (completed), A One Piece fanfiction

Sir Crocodile x OC (male) Words: 40.8k Genre: Comedy, drama, smut, fluff

Summary: For the first time, River makes a decision for himself, and Crocodiles make one for someone else.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for mature themes. Rating changes published per chapter.

Chapter 13

“Are you almost done packing?” Crocodile called as he appeared from the other room, ready except for the tie hanging over his shoulders. “The driver will be here as soon as the car is ready.”

“Just about. Are we taking the same car?” River tilted his head in question, reaching without permission to make a Windsor knot and tuck it against the hollow of his throat. The brush of Crocodile’s thumb against his cheek was a sweet thank you, though he would have preferred a kiss.

“They will drop you off first at your apartment, and then I’ll head to the office. Our flight leaves promptly, so I trust you to be punctual when the car returns for you in the evening.”

Excuse me?

Crocodile set his cigar in the ash tray, and handed over a thick stack of papers. River’s heart pounded, hope swelling inside him as printed ink informed him: “This is a temporary proposal, of which the attached contract is under review.”.

“What is this?” He spoke almost too quietly to be heard, but that didn’t dissuade Crocodile’s smug smile, or the puff of his chest.

“A job offer, Mr. Faustina.”

“A—what? Why? How?” The hope returned, stronger, and fluttering behind his ribs.

“One of my associates has recently acquired an import/export business that trades within the Caribbean. He actually owes me more than what your contract is worth, but I’ve cashed this opportunity for you, River.”

With a glance back to the papers, an embarrassed red rushed to his face at the typed figure halfway down the page. “You’re serious.”

The deep breath Crocodile took surprised him, how it stuttered around what appeared suspiciously close to nervousness. “I am. You can stay in my apartment until you get your own place, or if that makes you uncomfortable, I can arrange something else.”

When he received no answer but silence, he brushed the side of his finger down River’s cooling cheek. “If you’re too stunned to speak, you can just nod.”

“I—,” he breathed deeply, blinking back the prickle behind his eyes. “Of course I’m shocked. It’s all very sudden… I suppose everything can be finalized once we’re in New York. I’ll pick out a new school, I’m just worried the courses I’ve already taken won’t transfer over so easily. Then again, I suppose with a salary like this, paying to retake them won’t be a problem.”

“River,” said Crocodile, softly like he loved him, firmly enough to know he thought him a fool.

“You won’t have time for school with a position like this. Deadlines, meetings, keeping the schedule of investors overseas. And you don’t need it anymore, you’ll learn more by getting your feet wet than all the books I ever read during my time at university, books written by men who were long dead by the time I got there.”

“But—,” the words stalled on his tongue when Crocodile ignored him, going to fetch his suitcase and place it beside the door. He had made River an offer no one else would, and that was the end. The cost-benefit analysis of the situation dictated he would not refuse.

“It must be overwhelming right now, but I promise you’ll feel better once we’re home and you’ve gotten settled.”

His math was wrong.

“I can’t accept this.”

The frown that struck his face spoke more to surprise than anger, though to River it still burned of shame as he raised his head to meet Crocodile’s furrowed brow and… disappointed eyes, desperate to reel his emotions in with a series of quick, short blinks. “What does that mean?”

“I can’t go, Crocodile. Not if I can’t finish school. It’s not something I’m willing to negotiate.”

Crocodile’s face abandoned his melancholy, affronted at River’s stubborn tone, too close to spoiled, and what was once vulnerable bordered suddenly on defensive. “This is an expiring offer, River. It won’t wait for you to graduate, and it’s above market value for your qualifications. Don’t you want to move forward? Faster, easier than what you’re doing now?”

“With me” went unsaid at the end of his sentence, stuck to the back of his throat.

“Even you have to recognize it’s value.”

Even me.

The clench of River’s jaw silenced him but the words slipped through Crocodile’s hands, unable to be unsaid once they clouded the air between them. River packed faster, stacking the already folded shirts into the bags and shoving the rest of the clothes inside in crumpled handfuls.

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” River snapped, his mouth open to retort before he settled on grabbing more bags. “Listen to me.”

Crocodile waited patiently the long moments River’s thoughts played across his face, back and forth until he settled on what would sting less than the spirit of Claudia inside him that wanted to shout exactly what he thought in several languages.

“I know that I’m difficult. I’m, I laugh too loudly, I’m proud—am a bit foolish—but I’m not stupid. You’ve made me an incredible offer. One I don’t think I could ever accept as I am now.”

He nodded contentment with his own words, finding the courage to continue when Crocodile did not interrupt him. “I’m under more pressure than ever to move Claudia, and selling sex is the best money I’ve made so far. I won’t risk—!”

His breath stuttered, severed on a grounding sigh. “What if this job doesn’t work out? The company folds, they take a bad deal or get dissolved by people like you? I’ll be without work in a strange place with no school. What, am I meant to ask you to make another miracle? I can’t start over from nothing again, further from Claudia than I have ever been.”

“I would never let you fall back to the bottom.” In the quiet of the suite, his promise should have been a blanket of comfort, if River were more naive, if Crocodile was better at finding the words for what his heart screamed.

“I’m not at the bottom, Crocodile. Our worlds are just very different. I would be able to accept your offer, your promise, if you loved me, if we were a team but you don’t. And we’re not. You are my client, and I can’t bet the future of my family on a man I met 6 days ago. No matter how—”

Crocodile raised his head to meet his eyes, but the glimmer of aching adoration there couldn’t speak the words aloud, swallowed down with a sheen in his violet gaze. “No matter what.”

Neither of them spoke again until the bellhop came for their bags.

“Ready, sirs?”

“Just me,” Crocodile said.

From his spot on the couch, River did not move, and Crocodile scooped up his briefcase to follow the bellhop out without another word.

~*~

Crocodile had always been a shark. Efficient, deadly, charming enough, and alone. But for the past six days, the solitary hunter found himself in pleasant company, of which he couldn’t remember the last time he ever enjoyed anyone more than a passing dalliance or stress relief.

But as the elevator climbed to his office, there was no chatty beauty beside him to offer his particular brand of distraction, leaving Crocodile to wonder how much of this could be called his fault.

It always was, after all. When his father sent him to school, it had been his decision to not pursue business, at least, not any business within the boundaries of the law (of which his schooling made him an expert). When he went to prison, that was his fault too and, upon his release, creating a company that directly countered his father’s idea to invest in people, not statistics—well, he could blame no one else.

Now, he simply pressed the last vestiges of bergamot to his lips with cooling fingertips, a poor salve for his heart that ached along the cracks formed years before they even met. Old wounds opened by his fire, the challenge within River’s naive ideals, an American dream he hadn’t inherited, a kindness that shouldn’t exist in an immigrant who found himself at a disadvantage at every turn for circumstances out of his control… He loved him.

Loved him so much, and yet he sat alone. He did not pursue, why should he? He was, after all, the type of man who only knew how to love by giving and taking because it was the only legacy his father managed to leave behind, for all that he preached.

Hope laid against his ribs, sick and tired, having believed this time would be the exception.

“Is there anything you’d like to say before we get started?”

Crocodile found himself at the conference table, the meeting opened by Doflamingo’s question. Sitting still made his knees ache, and he went to pace by the window.

Cobra followed him with his gaze back and forth across the glass, though he looked more like half a man with bags under his eyes and no Vivi by his side, flanked by a few trusted suits with gilded fountain pens and litigation at the ready. “I want to say that I have no more intention to protest this acquisition. But firstly, we must speak clearly about what will happen to my employees.”

They will survive. If they are strong enough. Just as I did, thought Crocodile.

“If that’s your only grievance, we could have saved you a week of futile struggling,” Doflamingo said as he received a copy of the contract from the suit at his side.

It’s fair.

“I can confidently say there is nothing for you to worry about.”

Isn’t it?

“Let’s go through the contract together, and sign as we go. Gentleman, if I could direct your attention to—”

“Wait a moment.”

Crocodile froze. It hadn’t been his voice that spoke, stealing the words from his lips, but who could possibly—

“Koza?” Cobra gasped, then pushed his chair out to greet him.

“Don’t get up, please.” The young man placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I understand I’m a little late, but let’s not open those contracts just yet.”

“This is a closed meeting, kid, you can’t be here,” said Doflamingo, pointing.

“As majority shareholders, we have the right to speak,” said Vivi from the doorway, arms loaded with folders to be passed around the table.

Doflamingo’s scolding quieted, and his finger drew back into his fist. Between his suddenly chapped lips, the last threads of his patience stitched themselves into a thin, crooked smile. “Quickly then.”

“Inside these folders are letters both from our investors and several of our suppliers. You’ll find signed contract renewals from those who could respond on such short notice, and the rest provided faxed promissory notes, all notarized,” Vivi said.

Cobra scanned the papers in his hand. Beyond their sudden tremor, he knew the prickle behind his eyes must be relief. “Who convinced them? You did this, Koza?”

“I had a little help,” he smirked at Vivi across the table. “She made her fair share of calls, as well our new consultant: Mr. Faustina. You remember him, don’t you?”

The papers in Doflamingo’s fist wrinkled, his eye beginning to twitch behind his sunglasses.

“My father…” Koza began. “Was Cobra’s first employee, when all he had was an idea, and a salary of gratitude. I went to that first factory just one time, as a boy. One of the machines malfunctioned, this worker he—lost his arm. It wasn’t until I was much older I learned my father had asked Cobra to continue to pay him his salary for the rest of life. He said ‘I have wealth so everyone I meet can also prosper’… I’m sorry, Sir Crocodile, but we won’t be signing your contracts today.”

“Is that so?” He said finally, too softly and around a stubborn breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“That’s all very heartwarming, really,” Doflamingo interjected. “But at this point, it’s too late.”

“It’s not, actually,” Crocodile shot back. “Mr. Koza, my company has always pursued our most lucrative interests, and… I have no intention to intercept the figures you’ve presented here.”

“Sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused.” Koza answered his smirk.

“No, you’re not,” Crocodile smirked back.

Rather than give either of the kids the satisfaction of seeing him so proud, he turned to the window. Pretending to be engrossed in the folder, he ran his thumb over a series of names. A complete list of all the current shareholders, where at the bottom of the first page, between Fairhaven and Favreau, was “Faustina, R. J. – 1 share”.

“Oh. And Sir Crocodile,” said Vivi. “There is one more thing we’d like to discuss with you. Privately, if you’re able.”

Chapter 14

#one piece #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x oc #x oc #oc fanfiction #mlm fanfic #movie fic #long fic #pretty woman au #ao3 fanfic #silkenspeaks #million dollar baby

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

Text

5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;

+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.

Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:

The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight.

The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.

The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.

Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.

His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:

“Merlin! Behind you!”

All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.

The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.

Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.

The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered.

The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.

The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:

“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”

He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:

“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”

Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:

“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”

Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.

Which was a sight in itself.

But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.

Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back.

Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.

His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.

Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:

“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”

Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:

“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”

Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:

“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”

Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:

“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”

The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.

The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well.

They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.

Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.

Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:

“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”

Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:

“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”

Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:

“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”

Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”

With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.

Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.

Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:

“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”

No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:

“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”

Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.

Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:

“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”

With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.

When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.

Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.

They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.

The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.

The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.

A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:

“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”

Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:

“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”

Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:

“Why not just... unlock the door?”

Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:

“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”

Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:

“How did you distract the guards?”

Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:

“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”

Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.

It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.

Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life.

In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.

It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.

That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.

It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:

“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”

Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:

“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:

“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”

Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.

They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.

Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:

“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.

Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:

“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”

Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.

He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.

+1)

The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.

They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.

The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.

Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.

Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.

Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:

“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”

Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:

“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”

Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:

“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:

“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”

Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.

Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:

“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”

The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:

“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”

Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”

Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:

“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”

Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”

Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”

Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:

“-You’re...-”

The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:

“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”

Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:

“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:

“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”

Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:

“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”

Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:

“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.

They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.

A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.

Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:

“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”

His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:

“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”

Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:

“How did you get me this far without horses?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:

“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”

Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:

“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”

Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:

“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:

“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”

Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:

“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.

Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:

“That. Didn’t. Happen.”

Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.

The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.

The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:

“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”

Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:

“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”

Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:

“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”

He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:

“-I just need some sleep.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:

“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”

In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair.

He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:

“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”

Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:

“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:

“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”

Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.

THE END!!

We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!

Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

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jungkxook · 4 years ago

Text

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

��What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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dangerouslyallaboutdraco · 3 years ago

Note

Could you write a Draco Malfoy x Slytherin !Potter!reader. Y/N and Draco have been dating since first year but haven’t told anyone because people think she might be the only “good slytherin” and to prevent Harry from freaking out they stay quiet till the Quitage World Cup where she goes with Draco and his father and spent the summer with them rather than the weasles . Pansy and Blaise know about Y/N and Draco because the 4 of them became best friends through the years (and reader won’t be only friends with Harry’s friends) . Harry and Y/N get into an argument when they return to Hogwarts the summer of the Triwizard cup and how she’s a traitor (EVEN tho that’s her house) and a disgrace for being with him. So she accepted that and that he hates her so she spends the next year mainly with her house giving the trio the cold shoulder and when the war happened draco and his mother protected her and hid her so Harry was looking for her that time but she was gon so after the war the 4 (Draco Pansy and blasé) walk into the great hall and the golden trio see that Y/N is engaged to Draco and Harry just apologizes and they catch up after all those years.

The Potter Twins

A/n: This has got to be one of the best requests I've ever seen anyone answer. I'm so gratefully you asked me to write it!! Thank you. Also, I did use lines from the book just to make the story work. I could have probably written a whole series so this is very long, I'm sorry. @loxbbg

"Y/n Potter." Professor McGonagall's shrill voice boomed. Just like that, the whole school's attention was on Y/n.

So many students, so much older than her, all focused on her. Probably, she had only just discovered, because of her last name.

The girl and the boy who lived. Apparently, they were famous.

On their 11th birthday, she hadn't expected a giant wizard man to come and whisk the twins away from the horrible Dursleys. But, he was nice and he knew their parents.

Y/n was always treated better than Harry. Aunt Petunia seemed to love her more, even letting her have a big bedroom.

Hagrid, she found out, had taken them shopping and brought them ice cream. While she thought it was all a hallucination when she was able to run through a wall, she knew something strange was happening.

After that, she had met a redhead, Ron. He was dorky but kind to the siblings. And, he seemed to know a lot about the wizarding world.

Y/n took a few tentative steps before sitting on the stool. She was hyperaware of the fact everyone was watching, not able to keep the blush off her cheeks.

The heavy hat was draped onto her head, weighing her down.

"Hmm, the other Potter. You would do good in Gryffindor." The hat whispered to her, making her widen her eyes. She hadn't expected it to talk. It was an object. How could it possibly talk?

Y/n was amazed at the whole thing. It still felt like a dream. The great hall was phenomenal, and she couldn't wait to explore the castle. It was unreal.

Y/n flicked her eyes to her brother. He was already sitting at the Gryffindor table, smiling at her. She hoped she would get to be with him, even though she didn't grasp the house concept. Plus, he was near the other girl, Hermione.

Hermione seemed to know a lot about wizards, and Y/n wanted to be informed. It was like she had finally discovered her missing part.

"I remember your parents. I think you could do just like them." The hat continued. Y/n kept hoping. Hoping she wouldn't go without Harry. The thought of her parents made her heartache, she knew so little about them, but she had heard so much about them in the last few days.

"Slytherin!" The hat roared. Y/n's eyes instantly widened, looking frantically at her brother. How was it possible? The hat had decided she would do good in Gryffindor. She wanted to be with her brother and Ron and Hermione.

Just like that, the hat was off her head. Y/n was speechless as she wandered over to the Slytherin table. Somehow, they all looked mean.

She hadn't noticed who she sat next to until the boy spoke. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He introduced himself, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Y/n Potter." Y/n introduced, despite knowing he already knew.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson." A girl with short black hair interrupted their conversation. "We're going to be sleeping in the same dorm, do you want to be friends?" She asked. A picture of confidence.

Y/n didn't know what to do but nod. "Yeah."

"Now shove off, Parkinson. We're talking." Draco interrupted the girls.

Y/n looked concerned at Pansy, but she didn't look offended at all. "Don't worry. Dracie and I have been friends since we were kids. He doesn't mean it." She reassured the girl, noticing her surprised look. The nickname made Y/n giggle, recognising the look on Draco's face as disgust.

"We're not friends." Draco joked, stoic face. Pansy hit him on the arm.

Y/n liked them already. She could tell they would be good friends. Plus, they filled the gap she was missing, not having Harry next to her.

Harry managed to get a chance to talk to Y/n after the feast. He quickly wrapped her in his arms, comforting his sister.

"I'm sorry we're not in the same house," Y/n told him, feeling guilty.

Harry shook his head. "It's not your fault. It's that weird hat's."

"It's strange, isn't it?" Y/n giggled, not feeling like crying anymore. "I don't know what so much of this means." She continued, feeling nervous about the whole situation.

"I know." Harry agreed with a nod. "We'll get through it together. I just want to know more about mum and dad, and it's good if we don't have to stay with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon." Y/n nodded to that. They were horrible people. "We should go to our rooms now. It'll be okay." He comforted her.

She gave him another quick hug. "Thanks, Harry." She told him before turning around to walk off.

"Wait, Y/n!" Harry called, she spun back around to face him. "I've heard Malfoy is bad news, be careful." He warned. Y/n nodded, reassuring him she'd be cautious.

She didn't believe it, though, as she skipped off to the common room.

It was only a week into classes when Y/n figured out not everyone at Hogwarts was nicer than the Dursley's. Mainly Professor Snape. For no reason, he seemed to hate Harry. They dissected it later in Hagrid's cottage.

"'S 'cause yeh look like yer mum." Hagrid offered as an explanation. That confused the twins and Ron, who came with them. Hagrid sighed, realising he had to explain it. "Snape loved her, way back, but she married yer dad. He couldn' stand yer dad. Anyway, tha''s all history now. Unfortunately, he's one to hold a grudge. Don' let it bother yeh." He told the children.

Harry just sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, I'm used to Dudley, anyway." He figured Hogwarts was a lot better than the Dursley's house.

"What about yeh, Y/n, how's Slytherin? They're not pickin' on yeh?" Hagrid asked, switched his attention to the small girl.

"It's alright. I've made lots of friends." Y/n had actually had a rather good week. She'd befriended Pansy and a girl named Daphne. As well as Draco, with who she was very close. That was just in her house. Somehow, she'd managed to sit next to Hermione in a class, Lavender too, and a girl named Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff.

"Good." Hagrid nodded. "Yeh best be off now." He told them, taking the last sip of his drink.

The 3 of them nodded, getting up and leaving the cottage.

"You know, we've got our first flying lesson next week?" Ron asked the twins, trying to brighten the mood. He could tell they were both thinking about their parents.

Y/n did know. Draco had talked about it nonstop. He was beyond excited.

Harry nodded as well. "I'm not sure I'm going to be any good." He mentioned, lightly blushing.

"I'm sure you'll both be fine. It is in your blood." Ron told them. Y/n and Harry both looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused about what he meant. However, he didn't elaborate.

Y/n went to watch Harry's first Quidditch practise, despite him telling her not to. He said it was a waste of time when it was just practice. But she was extremely proud of him. She knew their parents would be proud too.

So she hid in the Slytherin bleaches, hoping Harry wouldn't spot her.

It was slightly chilly, the night wind whipping at her skin. That's when she felt the drape on a coat on her shoulder.

Y/n whipped her head around to see who it was, only to be met with the blonde's features. She definitely had a bit of a crush on him. He was cute and the first boy who had ever paid her attention.

Draco took a seat next to her, giving her a smile. "Hi." He whispered.

"Hi, Dray." It was a nickname she had quickly picked up, noticing how it made him blush. "You don't have to sit out here." She assured him.

"I want to," Draco confirmed.

Y/n knew he was jealous. Draco had done nothing but talk about how much he loved Quidditch. And Harry, who he thought was a blood traitor, had gotten all his success. So it was big that he wanted to sit with her.

They watched in silence before Draco spoke. "Did you know Pansy is dating Blaise?" He asked her.

Y/n shook her head rapidly. "I thought she liked you."

Draco stuck his tongue out in disgust. "No, I hope not. I did have a question though..." He trailed off, cheeks heating pink. He was bouncing his knee up and down nervously.

Y/n had never seen him like that. "What is it?" She asked.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Draco asked hesitantly. Y/n immediately nodded, accepting the offer. She had never felt happier and more relieved.

"Of course, Dray." She agreed immediately his face relaxed. Y/n reached over and laced her fingers in his, not concerned about how sweaty his palms were. "We can't tell Harry though." She suddenly realised, remembering her brother's words. Draco had never been kind to any of the Gryffindor's, despite them being her friends.

Draco nodded. "Okay." He accepted. Y/n was very thankful he agreed to her request.

3rd year was the most stressful yet, for Y/n. She and Draco were still secretly dating, much to Blaise and Pansy's surprise. They couldn't believe how long it had lasted. But Y/n and Draco were drawn to each other, as friends and lovers.

Summer break was also difficult for Y/n. Aunt Marge's visit had ruined the twins birthday. On top of that, apparently, a psychotic wizard had escaped. The Dursley's didn't understand what that would mean. But Y/n and Harry saw just what dark magic could do to Ginny Weasly last year. It was devastating and powerful.

Y/n ran away with Harry when he blew up Aunt Marge. Aunt Petunia had started being much meaner to her, the older she got. While Y/n didn't know Lily, she thought it might have been the reason Aunt Petunia started shunning her.

So, she stayed at the leaky cauldron with Harry. It was the first time she felt happy to not have parents, there were no rules.

Y/n was hiding something. All the letter her owl, Edwige, was bringing her. All from Draco. She figured Harry was too tied up in his own life to think anything was odd. He probably assumed it was Hermione.

The whole train ride all Harry, Ron and Hermione wanted to talk about was terrifying Sirius Black who was trying to murder the twins.

The train's sudden stop frightened Y/n. As the compartment grew cold, she thought it was Sirius, there to kill them. When the Dementor's bony fingers slide open the door, her heart raced, almost beating out of her chest.

This was it. She was going to die from a faceless ghost. It started to suck the life out of Harry and she froze, not knowing how to help her brother.

Thankfully, the cloaked figure in the corner sprung up, scaring the spirit away.

Y/n rushed to get to Harry, but he had already fainted. He was dazed and confused when he woke, Lupin, as Y/n had come to known, handing him some chocolate.

Once Lupin had re-explained what happened, to Harry, he left.

The Potter twins connection let Y/n feel the fear Harry was in, despite being the braver.

Y/n was more than happy to get off the train, being able to sit next to her boyfriend. The Gryffindor table couldn't see them, so they were free to subtly hold hands.

It didn't feel the same that year. Draco was much darker and meaner. He was mean to Hermione and Hagrid, two of Y/n's companions. She didn't understand it.

Their relationship issues came to a head on the date of Buckbeaks execution. Draco and Y/n didn't agree on the situation but it got worse as she roamed the castle with Harry, Hermione and Ron.

As soon as Y/n saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle hiding behind that rock she knew today was going to be her breaking point. She didn't understand why he couldn't just shut his mouth and not say anything.

"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Malfoy. "And he’s supposed to be our teacher!" The look on his face was pure disgust. His eyes flicked up to meet Y/n's, not back down from the remarks he'd made as she stared him down.

It was then she realised it. He cared more about maintaining his arrogant reputation than he did his own girlfriend. The thought broke her heart.

Harry and Ron both marched to him, with Hermione one step ahead. Y/n awkwardly stood there, not knowing how to come between her secret boyfriend and friends.

Hermione got to him first, landing a solid punch to his nose. It was as hard as she could, landing a solid sound.

Draco stumbled back, Crabbe and Goyle rushing to hold him up. He gave Y/n a final look as he ran past her.

Y/n's eyes were already filling with tears. Hermione noticed. "Are you alright?" She asked.

She quickly thought up a lie. "I'm sorry... It's just all of this with Buckbeard is difficult. Can you tell Hagrid I'm really sorry?" She stuttered out, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

They all brought the lie, Harry wrapping her in a hug before they walked off. She stood there and cried for a few minutes, all alone. Like no one in the world cared about her.

It quickly turned to anger, her blood boiling. She stormed off to the Slytherin common room, knowing Draco was too proud to go to the hospital wing.

She found him there, on the couch, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

"I can't believe Granger," Draco exclaimed, not noticing Y/n. "She's a filthy mudblood I could easily get expelled."

"Tell your father." Goyle prompted. Crabbe and Goyle were the best henchmen, dumb and wanting to cause trouble.

"Goyle, Crabbe, I need to speak to Malfoy," Y/n announced. They didn't understand what she meant. "Alone." They finally understood, scurrying out of the room.

Draco didn't look concerned, his eyes challenging her. "What do you want? Hanging out with your idiot twin, that poor, blood traitor Weaslbee and mudblood Granger." He was just as pissed as Y/n was. Maybe, it was the anger for Granger he was taking out on Y/n.

She couldn't hide it anymore. "We're done." She told him. "I cannot be with you when you hate everyone that loves me."

"Fine." Draco shrugged. "I don't care."

That was the last thing Y/n heard from him as she stormed to her dorm room, a sobbing mess. Pansy quickly wrapped her in a hug, not needing to know what happened.

It was the end of term before Y/n even looked in Draco's direction again. She spent all those nights silently sobbing. The slight silver lining was she had gotten much closer to Harry, Hermione and Ron, no longer spending hours with Draco.

He'd trapped her when she was alone in the bleachers, just like he did on their first week.

He didn't place a jacket on her, rather some sunglasses. "Hi." He murmured, hesitantly sitting next to her. Draco was sure Y/n hated him.

"Hey." She replied. The truth was, she missed him. Draco was a part of her, they had grown up in love. They were never meant to fall out of it.

"Enjoying your last day?" Draco asked awkwardly. They felt like they were back in their first year, acting self-consciously.

She nodded, not interested in his small talk. "Yeah, I'm all packed as well." She still refused to look at him.

"I'm sorry." It came tumbling out like he didn't know how to say it. That made her turn her attention to him.

Y/n couldn't help but love him. She never wanted to break up, ever. "Me too." She replied.

Y/n wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug. He just looked so precious.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Draco asked, the question was phrased differently this time but it still reminded her of the shy first year.

"Yes." Y/n agreed. She had never known heartbreak like being without Draco.

"Also... I want it to be real this time." That made Y/n worry. She didn't want Harry to find out yet. There was no one Harry hated more. "Will you stay with us these holidays? And come to the Quidditch World Cup?" He asked shyly. That was the bashful boy she adored.

So far, Y/n's plans were to go to the Durley's. She'd just lie to them and say she was staying with Pansy. They wouldn't care because they didn't love her.

'Yes." Y/n told him. "I'm terrified to meet your parents." She admitted.

Draco took her hand in his. "Love, you have nothing to worry about." He assured her. In truth, he also had doubts about his father. Y/n was a Potter.

Once they left the bleachers, Y/n went to see Harry. The trio was in the courtyard.

"Oh Y/n, we were looking for you." Ron pipped up as she took a seat next to them. She tried to not blush too much. "Do you want to come to the Quidditch World Cup with us?" He asked. Uh oh.

"I'm really sorry. I told Pansy I'd go with her family." Y/n lied once again. She felt terrible doing it but she had to. Plus, they weren't going to find out.

"That's fine. Are staying with her the whole summer?" Harry asked. Y/n hated to have to nod. She knew they were keeping a brave face on but they were disappointed.

Y/n's lie worked. She made it to out of the station with Draco without anyone seeing.

They got in the car and, from there, they travelled to the manor. It was fabulous. Better than she could ever imagine. Pointed towers and perfectly done gardens, she was in another world.

"Hey, it'll be okay," Draco assured her, taking his hand in hers as they made it to the door. She had already met their house-elf, who carried the bags.

Draco knocked on the door, trying to seem brave. Narcissa swung it open, arms wide open to pull Draco in. Y/n admired how close they were. She had seen Narcissa once before when she came to see Draco. They weren't introduced but Y/n admired how elegant she looked.

"Y/n Potter, right?" Narcissa asked once she had let her boy go.

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you." Y/n politely said.

Narcissa giggled, shaking her head. "Don't be silly, you can call me Narcissa." She said before opening her arms up for the girl. She hugged for just as long as she hugged Draco, making Y/n feel very comfortable.

Lucius walked over, making Y/n's heart race.

"Draco." He greeted his son with a handshake, much less warm than his mother.

Then he turned to Y/n, staring down his nose at her. She had never felt as small. "You must be Y/n Potter?" He held out his hand.

"Yes, sir," Y/n replied, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Lucius just scowled. Narcissa interrupted the tension. "Come, kids, we can talk in the living room." Just like that, she was part of the family.

The Malfoy tent at the Quidditch world cup was impressive. It was grand and dark like the manor.

Her summer with Draco was the best of her life, not that the others were much to compare to. Narcissa was the kindest woman she'd ever know. When she realised Y/n's birthday was the 31st of July, she insisted on throwing a large party.

She let Y/n pick out all the decorations, taking her on a shopping spree to Diagon Alley. Then, they had a spa day and afternoon tea party with Pansy and Daphne and some of Narcissa's friends. As much as she wanted to, Y/n figured it wasn't right to invite Hermione and Ginny.

That night, they had dinner out with the girls, Draco, Theo and Blaise. It was the best day of her life. It only got better when a massive cake was wheeled out, and a cart for of gifts. She was sure it was more than Dudley had ever gotten.

Draco's was the most special. It was a necklace, a traditional Black family one. On it was their initials.

Y/n made sure to stay in contact with Harry, but things had started to slip. She figured he was just busy but she missed him, and their other friends.

It was difficult for Y/n to get along with Lucius, knowing how close he was to Voldemort, the man who was trying to kill her. Somehow, they just didn't talk about it.

"Are you ready to go?" Draco asked, adjusting his black blazer. She couldn't believe how good he looked, a full black suit. His blonde hair parted in the middle. He had grown into his looks majorly over the summer.

"Yeah." Y/n nodded, putting her last earing in. They were a gift from Narcissa, real emeralds. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach she was trying to shake off as anticipation.

"Okay, Mum has already gone to our box. We're going in with my Father." He told her, walking over to grab her hand. Physical contact was something the couple had gotten used to. It was no longer awkward.

Y/n took his hand, lacing their fingers as they walked out of the tent. Draco was taller than her now, he hadn't been in first year. His slim thumb traced over her knuckles mindlessly.

Lucius didn't seem to mind the two of them being so close. The sky had darkened, and the crowds were already cheering. While Y/n had never been to a muggle sports game, she thought this was better. It was noisy but spectacular.

Draco and Y/n talked as they walked, him occasionally bumping into her shoulder. It always made her giggle.

When she heard Lucius' cruel voice, she looked back at him. He was looking up. Y/n followed his eye line. The Weasley's. Hermione. Harry.

Her brain stopped working, and she froze. The look on Harry's face was pure fury. He was looking between her and Draco rapidly, but it was obvious. They were holding hands, and they had just been giggling together.

Those smiles were long gone. The atmosphere had immediately blackened.

Lucius' threat to Harry made her wince. Harry didn't even look bothered, just furious at her. Betrayed. It physically hurt her, and she gripped Draco's hand.

The Weasley group turned to walk off so did Lucius. Draco pulled Y/n closer to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry. It'll be okay. Harry will calm down." Draco told her. She just hoped it was true. Harry didn't like to be deceived, and she had lied so much. Plus, Draco was never nice to Harry, Hermione and Ron. They probably hated her by association. "My father really shouldn't have said that." He grimaced. That's made her confident in her decision. Draco had changed.

Y/n nodded, trying to choke back the tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah, I know."

Draco stopped in the middle of the bridge. He took her face in his hands. "Hey, I love you." He reminded her before leaning down to kiss her. It was soft and filled her back up with warmth, making the chilling look Harry had sent her go away. She just hoped Harry still loved her.

Y/n tried to put Harry in the back of her mind the rest of the break. She did write him a few letters, but he didn't reply.

Harry was too busy to talk to Y/n on the first day of school. She hoped Hermione and Ron weren't giving her the cold shoulder, but they did.

So she spent the welcome feast with Pansy and Daphne. And, of course, her boyfriend.

He confronted her on the second day of school.

Y/n was in the courtyard when Draco and Harry had their quarrel. She always knew Draco was short-tempered, but she couldn't believe the things he was saying to Harry about their mother.

Y/n's shock grew when Harry spat back, knocking Narcissa. He didn't know her like she did. Narcissa had been nothing but kind to Y/n. That was when she knew she couldn't let Harry get away with it.

"Harry!" Y/n yelled, his attention flicked to her. His eyes were even more outraged than they were with Draco.

"What do you want, traitor?" Harry demanded, his voice was angry too.

"You can't say those things about Narcissa," Y/n demanded. Now she knew how mad Draco felt. Her jaw was clenched like her fits. "And, I'm not a traitor. I'm a Slytherin, that wasn't my choice."

Harry rolled his eyes and huffed. "You're sickening. Did you not hear what he said about our mother!?" He lectured her. "I don't know how you could be with someone so vile."

"Draco isn't who you think he is." Y/n defended. Draco loved her. He'd never given up on her like Harry had.

"He hates you!" Harry spat. He was closer to her now, towering over her. She had never seen anyone that mad. "You're not a Potter. You don't belong in our family." He said so lowly it made her shiver.

Harry was so close she thought he was going to hit her. That's when Draco jumped in the middle of the twins, pushing Harry back and shielding Y/n.

"Watch it, Potter." Draco threatened, glaring down at Harry. He was only an inch taller.

Harry scoffed, fists clench, ready for a fight. He looked around Draco, at Y/n. "Mum and Dad would have despised you. You're just like all those other awful Slytherins. I don't understand how you could be with someone as low as Malfoy." His words sat deep in her heart, and he didn't stop them from coming. "You're not a Potter." With that, he left, not looking back.

Y/n immediately burst out in tears. She couldn't stop it. Draco spun around to her, holding her so she wouldn't collapse.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay." Draco told her, wrapping her in his arms so tightly. He just held her. "You know they would be proud of you, Y/n. You're so strong and clever." He comforted her, his hands stroking her back.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I'm a Slytherin. They were all brave Gryffindors." She choked out.

"It doesn't matter what house you're in. You're so kind and talented." Draco reassured her. His heart was breaking, seeing his girlfriend in such a bad state. All he wanted to do was stop her from hurting. "I know how important Harry is to you. We can take a break until this all blows over." He reassured her.

Y/n shook her head, clinging to her chest. "No, no, please, Dray." She said as she cried out. "You're the last good thing I have left."

"Baby." He cooed, tracing her cheekbones. "I'll never leave you." He promised.

Draco stayed true to his word. He supported her throughout the whole year. Y/n was always worried for Harry. Despite the shunning, he inflicted on her.

It didn't stop with Harry. Y/n lost half of her friends that day. Hermione, the Weasley's and most muggle-borns refused to talk to her. She was always so kind that it troubled her.

Draco took her to the Yule ball, naturally. She saw Harry that night. They even made eye contact, but he didn't comment on her forest green dress. It matched her eyes perfectly, though, and Harry couldn't stop thinking about one photo of his mother he'd seen. They looked so similar.

She spent the Christmas break at the Malfoy's, receiving a sweater from Molly Weasley. That meant the world to her, despite none of them speaking to her.

When they got back to Hogwarts, Y/n figured out how irrelevant she was to Harry. Ron was the one that was taken for the second task. Everyone noticed. Not his own twin, his friend.

Y/n still remained close with Sirius. They wrote letters to each other throughout the year. He knew how worried she was about Harry.

The truth was, Sirius felt bad, James and Lily were his best friends and he knew they'd be disappointed to see the twins split up. Sirius was also worried for Y/n, he knew what it was like being part of the Black family.

He had hatched a few plans to get them to talk, but none worked. Not due to Y/n's lack of trying.

The third task was the worst thing Y/n had been through at Hogwarts. She could feel something bad was happening to Harry. When he came back through the portkey, she saw it. And it was distressing.

Voldermort was reborn, whether everyone believed it or not. Y/n could feel it was true.

5th year was exciting.

Y/n celebrated her 15th birthday before it started. This time, they had dinner with her friends. She didn't write to Harry.

Sirius sent her gifts, and he was starting to ask whether Narcissa was okay.

Just after her birthday, in August, Draco Malfoy and Y/n Potter were made prefects. They both read the letters at the breakfast table.

Narcissa was overjoyed for both of them.

At 11am, on the 1st of September, they got on the train to Hogwarts.

The rest of that year went on normally, apart from Umbridge's rules.

Christmas break was a sign that a darker power was brewing. Y/n heard the whispers under the door and she assumed the other side of the war also had meetings.

Y/n was shocked when Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban. After the Umbridge drama died down, they had to sit their O.W.L.s. That was rough.

One terrible day of June was Sirius' last. Y/n cried in Draco's arms for days over the death. She always thought Sirius was the only person who was going to be able to reunite the twins. And now he was gone.

Y/n knew something was very wrong during the summer. Draco told her he was a death eater. They cried about it together all night. The weeks following were stressful, and they weren't even back at Hogwarts. The war had started.

Draco and Narcissa kept Y/n hidden from Lucius' guests. O.W.L results were the first good thing that summer.

Y/n's 16th birthday was smaller than her last. Y/n, Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Theo were all hyperaware of the dementor attacks.

That weekend, they visited Diagon Alley with Narcissa. Y/n was at Draco's side the whole time, unfortunately, that meant she had a run-in with Harry and the Weasleys. It was awkward, to say the least. Her own twin still wouldn't acknowledge her.

Draco's task started at the beginning of the year. Y/n was the only one who knew about it, besides Snape.

Then Christmas, with even more death eater meetings. Y/n barely saw Draco. Narcissa had made her promise to take care of him, but it was difficult to get him to eat.

Draco continued his task during the second semester. Y/n knew that Harry knew about Draco. Their twin insight gave him the power to just know things.

It was getting difficult between Y/n and Draco. They didn't talk as honestly as they used to. He wanted to protect her. And she knew he needed to open up.

One day in May, Y/n rushed to see Draco in the hospital wing, concerned about how he could have gotten there. Did something go wrong with the vanishing cabinet?

"Draco!" She cried as she saw him lying on a hospital bed looking pale.

Draco waved at her, a little smile on his face.

"Potter." Snape hissed, looking down at the girl. Y/n didn't care he was there as she wrapped her arms around Draco. Snape was nicer to Y/n this year, which she didn't understand.

From a photo Sirius had given her, she knew she looked more like Lily than ever. She always kept the picture near her. It was the Potter parents holding up their twins, smiling.

"He's fine," Snape told her. "As for your brother, he's going to be in huge trouble." He continued before walking out of the hospital wing.

"What happened?" Y/n demanded, holding Draco's face in her hands. His cheekbones were more prominent now, and his eyes were more overcast.

Draco playfully huffed. "I was, uh, in the bathroom. Potter came in and used the bloody Sectumsempra spell on me." He complained, his eyes now angrier. She couldn't believe Harry would do something like that. But, then again, she didn't really know him.

Y/n noticed the way his voice faded when he talked about where he was. "Why were you in the bathroom?" She knew him well enough to push for an answer."

"Uh, talking." Draco offered an explanation. It wasn't good enough for Y/n to accept.

"To who?" She asked.

Draco groaned, rolling his eyes. He finally gave in. "Fine, I was crying to Moaning Myrtle." He admitted. His cheeks were pink with blush and he looked guilty.

"Dray." Y/n cooed, reaching down to hold his hand. "You can talk to me about anything you need to, any time." She assured him.

Draco nodded, thankfully. "He's going to get detention for the rest of the year." He told her, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Narcissa was one of the last people Y/n expected to see walk into the Hospital Wing. She was in a black pantsuit.

"Mother." Draco greeted her, trying to move in the bed to get up.

"Stay put, you," Narcissa told him with a smile. She walked right over and hugged Y/n. "Are you okay?" She asked. Y/n just nodded. She knew a storm was brewing, but nothing had happened yet. It was only a matter of time. Then she turned to Draco. "Are you?" She asked him.

Draco already had a witty reply, clearly feeling like himself again. "Aside from my own mother preferring my girlfriend to me." He complained, a faux pout on his face.

Narcissa just rolled her eyes, like mother like son. "I can't help it. You get into too much trouble." She told him with a pointed look.

Draco scoffed. "Wasn't my fault." He complained quietly. The girls just gave him a look he knew too well. "Honestly, what are you doing here?" He asked. When Narcissa widened her eyes, he followed the question up with a statement. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you."

"I've actually come for Y/n." She explained.

Both Y/n and Draco looked at her in shock. "What? Why?" Y/n asked, most concerned.

Narcissa looked to Draco who sighed out an 'oh' and then back to Y/n before speaking. "You know about the cabinet." Y/n nodded. "They need it. The Death Eaters. To get into Hogwarts." That made Y/n worry. They weren't coming in to have dinner.

"You don't know this." Draco started, making Y/n's attention turn to him. "My task is to kill Dumbledore." Y/n's mouth gawked open. She could feel her hands shaking. More than anything, she couldn't believe someone would make a kid do that.

Narcissa grimaced. "It's all about to start." Y/n didn't need to ask what 'it' was. "So I'm taking Y/n away." She told them.

"Wait... for how long?" Draco asked quickly, gripping her hand.

"Draco, you sit in those meetings," Narcissa told him. "You know the plan is for them to take over the Ministry of Magic and persecute muggle-borns." That made Y/n wince. "It's not safe for Y/n to stay at Hogwarts, don't be silly about this." She strictly told him.

Draco sighed but nodded. He knew Narcissa was always right. "Can I still see her?" He asked, now thinking rationally. Y/n didn't like that she didn't have any say in the matter.

"Yes." At least there was that. "No one is going to know where she is apart from Lucius, you and I," Narcissa told them.

"Do I get any say in this?" Y/n finally spat out.

Narcissa turned her attention to Y/n with a pleading look. "You know we have to."

"I've still got a month of school left," Y/n argued.

"I know and I'm sorry we have to do this." Narcissa apologised. "It's all going to happen next month."

"Can't I stay until then?" Y/n asked.

Narcissa shook her head. "I promise you, if I thought you could, I would let you. You're a big part of what you-know-who wants, Harry more, but you must stay far away from this." She told her.

Y/n couldn't not agree. "Alright. We're leaving now?" She asked.

"Yes," Narcissa told her. "All of your things have been packed. Draco can come and see you once it's over." She promised.

Draco wrapped his arms around Y/n as he kissed her. It was one of the things she knew she was going to miss. She also knew it was time to go.

"Bye, I love you," Draco told her, waving from his hospital bed.

"I love you too," Y/n replied before walking out of the wing with Narcissa.

From there, they went out a secret passage, making sure no one saw. Professor Snape knew Y/n had to go, so he was coming up with the cover story.

Narcissa and Y/n finally reached a Slytherin scarf, which took them to a house she'd never been to. "Where are we?" Y/n asked, still holding on to the portkey.

"The South of England," Narcissa told her, making her brows furrow and eyes widen. "It's an old Black family house." She explained, opening the door. It was just as grand as the Manor, smaller, though.

Inside it looked just as gorgeous. All the decor was French country vintage. It screamed old money.

"It's beautiful," Y/n told Narcissa, having a look around the inside. There was so much light streaming into the room with wooden details.

"I'll make some tea. Your room is on the second floor, first door." Narcissa told her. Y/n nodded, walking up the stairs to find the room. It was decorated like royalty belonged there. There was a massive window that looked right out onto the coast.

It was then she realised the house was on a cliff. Y/n hadn't seen it from the angle the entryway was at. But it was spectacular. Lonely.

Y/n could spend her whole life there. She set her bags down and strolled around the room. It was smaller than Draco's was, at the manor. But it was much lighter. Almost the complete opposite of the Malfoy family home.

Once she had finished looking around, she went back downstairs to see Narcissa setting tea up on the coffee table. When she walked into the living room she saw the massive windows, showing the ocean.

"Sit," Narcissa commanded and Y/n did so right away. She poured tea for both of them before also sitting down. They sat in silence for a while, Y/n not knowing what to say. "I can tell you have questions." Narcissa prompted.

"Why is Snape protecting Draco and I?" Y/n asked quickly.

Narcissa sighed before answering. "Do you know what an Unbreakable Vow is?" She asked, and Y/n nodded. "Severus and I made one. He vowed to watch over Draco." Y/n nodded again. That vow must have expended to Y/n.

Y/n suddenly had more questions. "You need a Bonder, right?"

"Yes, Bellatrix was ours," Narcissa replied. Y/n was familiar with Draco's strange aunt. They had never met, out of Bellatrix's loyalty to Voldermort.

"Are you going to stay here with me?" She asked, concerned about being alone.

Narcissa shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can only be here sometimes. The story is you ran away, and no one knows where you are, so I can't be here too much." Y/n didn't know that before. Everyone was going to think she'd left by choice. Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Theo. Harry, if he cared. She knew none of them were going to be able to know why she was gone.

"Am I safe here?" Y/n asked, now worrying about how she would be safe alone. The tea they were sipping seemed to calm her down.

"Yes, there are charms on the house so no one can get in. But, I'm also giving you this." Narcissa stopped what she was saying and pulled out a necklace. It was a heart-shaped gold locket. Narcissa placed it in her hand. Y/n looked at it. That's when she noticed the initials on it. Draco's and hers.

Y/n thanked her. "That's not it. If you open it like this." Narcissa instructed, opening the heart. Y/n noticed the emerald gemstone. "This stone is a portkey, right to the Manor." So Y/n would be able to get back to the Manor.

"I can't thank you enough, and I don't want to intrude, but I do have a personal question." Y/n was hesitant about what she was going to ask. But she needed to know. "You said before, in the hospital wing, that Mr Malfoy knew where I was staying. And I have a lot of respect for him, so I don't want this to come off badly." Y/n could tell she was rambling. Narcissa could as well, she slid a hand onto Y/n's to calm her down. "Why is it safe for him to know? He's you-know-who's number 2. Eventually, he's going to want me dead." It broke Y/n's heart, she knew it was going to ruin Draco's life. But, his father was going to have to kill her.

"Slow down." Narcissa smiled softly. That comforted Y/n a little. "Do you remember when we met, the summer before the World Cup?" She asked. Y/n nodded in agreement, not sure where it was going. "The night we met you, I knew. I knew Draco was in love with you. And, I knew Voldermort was going to come back and try to kill the Potter twins." Y/n's heart started to race at the mention of her parents' death. "I made Lucius make an unbreakable vow. Snape was the Bonder." Oh, it made sense. Lucius couldn't hurt Y/n, Narcissa had protected her.

She just didn't understand why so she asked. "Why? I mean, I appreciate it more than anything. But you risked your whole marriage." It was true, and Narcissa knew that.

"I've never thought you or Harry should be persecuted. My parents raised me as pureblood supremacists, but killing is wrong." Narcissa told her. Y/n was thankful for her honesty. She filled the place Lily had left, and Petunia hadn't tried to fill. "I love Draco, more than anything in the world. The only thing I've ever wanted is to see him happy. I knew he was happy with you." Y/n understood Narcissa's unconditional love for Draco, she felt the same.

"He's lucky to have you," Y/n mentioned, trying not to think about her parents.

"I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I'm very sorry about your parents," Narcissa told her. Y/n could feel the tears in her eyes.

She let a few of them fall. "Did you, uh, know them?"

"My last two years at Hogwarts, they were there. James was only 11 but he was loud and brave. He would even stand up to me with Sirius." Hearing both their names made Y/n cry more. She was crying for the dad she never knew, and the uncle she only had for a short time. "I noticed you at Hogwarts, I think during second year, and I had deja vu. You looked so similar to Lily. She always wore her hair just like you did." Y/n remembered seeing Narcissa but she didn't remember Narcissa seeing her.

"Would they be disappointed in me?" Y/n couldn't help but ask. Narcissa felt her pain, running deep. She immediately wrapped the girl in a hug, letting her cry.

"No, never for a moment." She confirmed. "I know it's not the same, but I'm proud of you." It wasn't the same, but it meant just as much.

"Thank you." Y/n thanked her again.

"No thanks are necessary. I should go back though." Narcissa stated, looking at her watch.

Y/n nodded, gently opening the necklace so she wouldn't touch the emerald. Narcissa held it, and just like that, she was gone.

Y/n found a good amount of things to do. There were movies and music. She still had some of her textbooks. Plus, exploring the house was fun.

But she did miss Draco. And the rest of her friends. Instead of using an owl, she decided to send letters by muggle post to the Malfoy residence, so Narcissa could send them to Hogwarts.

There was a knock on the door a couple of weeks after Y/n moved in.

She peaked out the window before seeing a tuff of blonde hair. It was Draco.

Quickly, she swung the door open, embarrassing him in her arms.

Draco hugged her back, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around.

"Dray, I missed you." She cooed, head buried in his shoulder.

"I missed you too, my girl." He replied, pulling her even closer. It was so tight she felt like she couldn't breathe.

When she pulled back, she had a thought. "How did you manage to come? Don't you have classes?"

Draco shook his head. "Quidditch match. It's Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw, so I came here instead." Y/n was very grateful for Quidditch that day.

They only had a few hours before people would notice he was gone. But they baked cookies together while Draco filled her in on everything she'd missed. As well as lots of kissing.

When it came time for him to leave, she was upset. But Draco made her promise not to cry.

Draco came back after the battle of the tower. Y/n knew there was something wrong. He didn't grin as wide when he met her at the beach.

There were already tears forming in his eyes, and it was late.

"Dray, talk to me, baby." Y/n pleaded as they lay together on the couch. It was far past midnight. Y/n was on Draco's chest and they were a tangle of limbs. She had her fingers running through his hair.

Draco sighed. "I couldn't do it." He sobbed out. "I couldn't kill him. Snape had to do it. It was so horrible, Y/n." He continued, tears still falling. "My father was so mad. He cares more about appeasing Voldermort than me." Y/n's heart clenched as she heard his words.

"Draco, he loves you." Y/n tried to reassure him.

Draco tried to accept it, but it was difficult. "I'm scared for what's going to happen." He told her.

"Me too," Y/n admitted. "How's it all going to end?" She asked him.

The truth was Draco didn't know. And she knew that. "They're talking over the Manor." He didn't want to be the one telling her the bad news. "They're going to go after anyone and everyone associated with Muggleborns. I'm not going to get to be here much." He hesitantly admitted.

"You've done what they needed you to do, though!" Y/n exclaimed, feeling outraged.

"I know. I'm not sure what they're going to do with me. Father lectured me and I just came here." Draco explained. It reassured her there might be some hope he could spend the summer there. "It'll be okay, Y/n."

She tried to retain that. "Can you come back on my birthday, at least?" Y/n asked.

"Of course, baby." Draco quickly replied. That brought Y/n some relief.

Draco was busy a lot of the summer. Despite having completed the task he was given, he was still Lucius's son.

He told Y/n all about how the Manor had been taken over by death eaters. It worried her. She also spent a lot of time worried about Harry. He was the only blood connection she had left in the world, and she had no idea where he was.

Draco came back on her birthday like he promised. He had more flowers than she'd ever seen in her life. That wasn't where the gifts ended. Jewellery, new shoes, perfume and a big cake.

Narcissa made it as well for dinner. She even insisted Draco stay the night.

By nighttime, they were lying in bed together. Draco's arms wrapped around her tightly. As usual, she lay against his chest. Draco stroking her hair.

When she looked up at him, she knew something was wrong. After all their years together, she could read him like a book. "What is it?"

"What do you mean?" He asked. His voice was a slightly higher pitch. Y/n recognised that as a sign he was hiding something.

"I can tell something bothering you," Y/n explained. "Let me in, Dray." She pleaded.

Draco knew he had to. "I have to leave early tomorrow morning."

Y/n knew that wasn't it. "I need the whole truth." Draco groaned, knowing she knew him better than he knew himself.

"I have to go early so I can be at the takeover of the ministry," Draco revealed to her. "They're going after Scrimgeour because he knows where Harry is." Oh. That wasn't good. Either the minister would give up Harry's location, and her twin brother would be killed. Or, the Ministry of Magic would be run by Death Eaters. Either way, their power was growing. Y/n knew Harry only had a matter of time. Then she would be next.

"So, no one knows where Harry is?" Y/n asked hopefully. Even if he hated her, she would rather he was alive.

Draco shook his head. "He's hunting the Horcruxes, I'd guess. Scrimgeour knows and maybe a few members of the Ministry." That made Y/n relieved, although she wasn't sure how good Harry's survival skills were.

"Am I going to be okay?" Y/n asked, fearing the worst.

Draco took a deep breath as he prepared an answer. "I'm never going to let him get to you, I promise. My Father's vow will make sure he can't either. No one else knows you're here." He reassured her. Y/n just hoped it was true, Draco could read that.

"So you're going back to Hogwarts?" Y/n couldn't help but ask.

Draco nodded. "I think Snape is going to be appointed Headmaster. I'll be safe there." That reassured Y/n to no end. He chuckled slightly, a smile on his face. "We were going to be Head boy and girl." He explained. Y/n's face dropped as she tried not to cry. "Hey, hey, hey." Draco noticed. "It's just the way it happened."

"I know." She nodded. "It just could have been the best year ever."

"When this is all over, we're going to have the best year." He assured her. Y/n tried to hang onto that.

It got difficult the further the year dragged on. Y/n barely saw Draco. She did receive letters about how horrible things had gotten. Hogwarts was gloomier, no one could find Harry, Snape's regime was intense. Y/n was thankful she was away from the whole mess.

Just before Christmas, she found out Luna Lovegood had been kidnapped. Draco had started to detest the cause he was fighting for. He never said so, but she could infer it from what he wrote.

In March, she discovered Harry had been captured. Draco was the one who had to identify him, and he felt horrible about it. He cried on her shoulder, begging her to forgive him when he came to see her. Y/n was never mad at Draco. She was smart enough to know he had to do it. And, deep down, she could feel that Harry was okay.

Draco was in a worse state when they escaped. Not because he wanted Harry to be killed. Because his own aunt had murdered Dobby. While he was taught to hate the house-elves, Dobby was almost his younger sibling.

All Draco could feel was split, unsure of what to do.

Draco told her it was all going to happen on May 1st. The battle of Hogwarts. Y/n spent the whole day riddled with anxiety. She spent a whole 3 days wide awake, waiting for news.

She felt a cursing pain through her head at some point on the 2nd of May. Then the visions started, of Harry and Dumbledore at a train station. She realised she was seeing inside Harry's vision. When he made the choice to return to his body, Y/n knew everything would be alright.

Y/n anxious sat on the couch until 3 people appeared. It was only the early hours of the morning. She immediately ran to Draco wrapping her arms around him. He was unkempt, and his hair was a mess. He hugged her back, pulling her into his chest. She had never seen him looking as disturbed.

"What happened?" Y/n asked, turning to give Narcissa a hug. Much to her surprise, Lucius shook her hand. It was the first time they'd ever done something like that.

"We left," Lucius told her. That was also the first time he'd ever properly talked to her. She didn't understand.

They explained it all to her. How Harry sacrificed himself, how he died, more importantly how Narcissa discovered he was alive. Y/n hung on every word as Narcissa told her how she had lied to Voldermort. She also told Y/n Harry asked if she was still alive. Harry still cared about her.

By that point Draco, Narcissa and Y/n were all crying.

The sun had just started rising when Y/n realised it.

Suddenly, she had a massive headache. The kind she knew Harry used to have. And she knew what it meant.

"Voldermort's dead," Y/n announced, causing all of their eyes to widen. "I just know. I can feel it. Harry killed him." She felt more connected to Harry than she had in years, but she knew.

There were no words any of them said as they hugged. She could feel her head beating rapidly, the same as Draco's.

"Who died?" Y/n finally asked the question she was terrified to ask. Harry was the only one she knew was alive from the good side.

"Bellatrix." Narcissa sobbed out, Lucius immediately pulling her into a hug. It was one of the first times Y/n had seen them acting so intimately.

Draco continued giving Y/n the list. Every second felt like an hour as she hoped none of her friends died. "Fred Weasley." She could only think about the heartbreak that would have caused her brother and his friends. "Snape too." Draco let a few tears fall and Y/n rushed to wipe them. "Lupin and Tonks." Lupin was the last person alive who really knew her parents. Now her chances of knowing about them were over. "There were a lot of others too but everyone else we are close to is okay."

"Good." Y/n nodded before wrapping him in a hug. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Both couples holding each other, all feeling extremely grateful.

"We should go back home," Narcissa told them, glancing at the clock on the wall. "We'll have breakfast." She promised.

Draco enthusiastically nodded. "I'm starving." He mentioned.

Narcissa reached out to grab his hand. "You haven't eaten in days."

Y/n quickly turned her attention to Draco. "Dray." She told him, hitting his arm. "You can't do that."

"I won't, ever again." He promised, his hand wrapping around her waist. "As long as you're there to cook for me." He cheekily quipped, looking at Y/n with a grin. It was the first one she had seen in a while.

Narcissa and Lucius both laughed at the younger couple who reminded them of themselves. "You're dreaming," Y/n replied, bumping into his shoulder. Y/n opened her necklace.

Narcissa, Draco, Lucius and Y/n all touched the emerald. Just like that, they arrived in the Manor living room. It was like Y/n remembered, still as dark. She did feel better about being there, knowing no death eaters were trying to kill her brother.

Over pancakes, they laughed and talked. The world finally felt peaceful again. It was the first time Y/n had been happy in weeks.

An owl knocked at the window, around midday and Y/n took the two letters out of its mouth.

"Dray." She told him, handing his one over to him. "It's from Hogwarts." She told Narcissa and Lucius. They both opened their letters and read them. "In June, they're having an end of year feast," Y/n explained.

"So, we've got a month off school?" Draco looked thrilled by the news.

Narcissa chuckled. "What does it say about your exams?" She asked.

Draco read further down. "Mine says my grades from last year will be considered my grades for this year and I can become an Aurora. Or I can go back to Hogwarts." There was hopefulness in his voice Y/n had missed.

"Draco!" Narcissa cheered, jumping up to hug him. "Congratulations."

"Mine says the same." Y/n realised. "But how is that possible?" She asked, looking at Narcissa.

"I'm not sure." The woman replied, looking just as confused.

"I may have a few words with the acting Ministry when Voldermort was in charge," Lucius reported. All 3 of them were shocked by the confession.

Y/n was overcome with appreciation. "Thank you, sir."

"Please, Lucius is fine." That surprised Y/n but it was nice to hear he might not have hated her as much as she thought. It was the first time Y/n had seen a smile on his face. "What are you two planning on doing with your time off?" He asked the younger couple.

Draco and Y/n met each other's eyes, they hadn't thought about it. "What are we meant to do?" Draco asked.

"The house on the cliff is empty, if you want to spend more time there, Y/n," Narcissa mentioned. Draco grinned widely, nodding his head. He accepted the offer. "Slow down, Y/n?" Narcissa asked, turning her attention to Y/n.

"Yes, I'd love to. Thank you." Y/n affirmed her boyfriend's acceptance.

"When can we go?" Draco asked.

Lucius chuckled. "You don't want to spend time with your parents, son?" He joked. Another first. "You're going of age now, Draco. Y/n too. I think you've both earned the privilege of being treated like adults." He told them.

"You have to be back for your birthday, Draco. We're going to throw a party." Narcissa instructed, raising her eyebrows at him.

"So I'm not an adult?" Draco quipped back.

Narcissa turned to Y/n. "Will you make sure he comes back?" Y/n nodded. "Then you are both free to leave after I get a hug." She informed them, opening her arms up. Draco hugged her first, standing much taller than her.

Then he left to get his stuff. Lucius followed him up the stairs. Y/n walked over to Narcissa, embracing her.

"Thank you, for everything." Y/n mentioned in her arms.

"It's never a problem, sweetness," Narcissa replied, kissing the girl on the forehead.

Y/n and Draco took a different portkey to the house. Both of them were buzzing to have a month together after being apart for so long. They finally felt free and independent.

For a few weeks, they just hung out, reacquainting with each other. They spent time in London, seeing muggle sights and shopping. As well as the small, nearby muggle town. It had the cutest cafe.

Draco and Y/n also hung out with Pansy, Theo and Blaise again. They were all thrilled to see her. She explained the whole situation to them and they completely understood.

Between them, it was like no time was lost.

One summer evening, Draco had insisted on cooking Y/n dinner. He explained it was a date. She was to dress up nice like they were going out. Draco was in a full black suit, matching Y/n's sparkling black dress.

He even set the outdoor table, making Y/n sit there and wait for him to bring out dinner.

It was a pasta dish. The same one Narcissa had made the first time Y/n met the Malfoy family.

"Thank you, Dray," Y/n said as they sat, looking out at the view. The sun was just setting and the whole sky was painted pinks and oranges. In the distance, there was the sound of waves breaking on the cliff.

Draco looked nervous, she hadn't seen him like that for a long time. "Uh, I had a question for you." He stuttered out, cheeks turning pink.

Y/n sent him a soft smile, trying to help him calm down. His nerves were worrying her. What could he possibly ask her? Y/n knew exactly what was about to happen when Draco slid off his chair and down onto one knee. Her hands immediately came over her mouth. Tears were already pricking her eyes. He reached into his back pocket, producing a green velvet box.

"I've, uh, I've thought about doing this for a really long time. When we first met I knew you were the one who was always going to hold a special part of my heart. It was everything about you. I never believed in love at first sight until I met you." Y/n was full-on sobbing at Draco's words. They were the sweetest thing anyone had ever said. "I knew from when I met you that I'd always love you. But I had no idea you'd bear to be around me for long enough. I was kind of insufferable." Y/n and Draco both chuckled. "I'm so grateful I even got the chance to know someone as clever, kind, funny and ambitious as you. Once I'd asked you out, I knew I needed you to be mine forever." Draco let a few tears out, stopping to wipe them. "I've done a lot of stupid things, hurt a lot of people and you're far too good for me, I know that. But, I swear, I'm going to spend every day making it up however I can. I'm going to spend every day making it up to you too. If you let me. I think I knew you before I understood myself. You truly are my best friend and the most important person to me in the world." Neither of them could stop the uncontrollable tears they let out. "So, uh, I've got to ask now. Y/n Potter, will you do me the honours of marrying me?" Draco opened the ring box, revealing a huge diamond ring. It looked vintage and the prettiest thing Y/n had ever seen.

Y/n wiped a few stray tears off her cheeks, leaning down to do that same to Draco. "Yes, Draco. A million times yes." He was grinning as wide as she'd ever seen as he slipped the ring on her finger.

He stood up, holding her face in his hands. "I love you." He told her, leaning down to kiss her gently.

"I love you too," Y/n replied, eyes closed with her forehead intimately pressed against Draco's. When she moved her eyes she looked down at the ring. "It's so beautiful, Dray."

Draco nodded before explaining the story. "It's, um, a Black family heirloom. If Mum, Aunt Bella or Aunt Andromeda were boys, they would have gotten it. Luckily for me, it skipped a generation."

"It's stunning." Y/n leant back up to place a kiss on his lips. "Now, what have you cooked for dessert?" She asked, giggling lightly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Your favourite, of course, but only because you said yes." He revelled.

Y/n woke Draco up on his birthday with an assortment of gifts. After they ate breakfast and unwrapped presents, they went to the Manor.

Y/n knocked on the door happily. Draco's left hand entwined with her right one. Narcissa swung it open and embarrassed Y/n in an enthusiastic hug. She quickly grabbed Y/n's left hand, looking at the ring.

"I knew it would look perfect on you," Narcissa mentioned, tracing over the ring. Y/n grinned at her.

"It is perfect," Y/n said, grinning at Draco.

"You're perfect." Draco simply replied. Narcissa chuckled at the two of them. "Can I have my hug?" He asked Narcissa.

Narcissa dropped Y/n's hand hesitantly to pull him in. "18 but you're still acting like a petulant child." She joked making Draco pull a face of mock offence. "Happy birthday, Draco."

"Are you keeping them in here, Sissy?" Lucius asked, walking around the corner. Narcissa rolled her eyes at him. "Happy birthday, son." He said, wrapping Draco in a hug. "Y/n." Lucius turned to her.

"Mr Malfoy." Y/n greeted. She thought she was in trouble when he raised his eyebrows and shot her a pointed look. The smile on his lips assured her she wasn't about to be told off. "Lucius." She corrected herself.

Y/n held out a hand to shake his but he shook his head, opening his arms. "You're my future daughter-in-law, come here." He insisted, and Y/n hugged him, trying to avoid showing her shock.

After they had lunch and Draco opened more presents, Pansy, Daphne, Theo, Blaise, other friends and several Malfoy and Black family members came over. It was a phenomenal party.

Pansy raced right over to Y/n, flinging her arms around the girl.

"Hi Pansy, it's actually my birthday." Draco sarcastically greeted her.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Happy birthday, you big baby." She said, giving him a hug too. "I'm sorry I missed my best friend." Draco faked offence.

Theo, Blaise and Daphne all came to hug the couple as well. Neither Y/n nor Draco had realised they didn't know about the engagement.

They all quickly got flutes of champagne, raising them to toast each Draco.

That's when Pansy saw it. "Oh, Merlin. Is that an engagement ring!?" Pansy shouted, grabbing Y/n's left hand.

Both Y/n and Draco awkwardly laughed. "Yes," Y/n confirmed as Pansy admired the ring, showing Y/n's hand to Daphne and the boys.

"That's not just any ring. That's a Black Family ring." Blaise noticed.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. "How did you know that?" She asked, looking back at Draco.

He was blushing pink. "Loverboy, here, has been talking about giving it to you since 1st year," Theo informed Y/n. "He wouldn't shut up about it most nights." Her eyes widened as she looked at a red-faced Draco.

"You never told me that," Y/n mentioned, nudging his chest. Draco groaned, wrapping his arm around Y/n's waist.

"Because it's really embarrassing." Draco quietly stated.

Daphne pattered Draco's arm. "Y/n used to talk about you in her sleep." Daphne declared. That made Y/n's cheeks heat. Draco and the rest of the friend group burst out laughing.

It was finally the day of the final Hogwarts feast. Y/n didn't ever think, at 11 years old, it was going to end like this. In 7 years, she had learnt so much more than most people learnt in their lifetime.

"Pans, Blaise." Y/n opened the door of the Black's seaside house to invite Pansy and Blaise in.

Pansy and Blaise were both dressed in formal clothing as they hugged Y/n. She was wearing a deep green dress that matched Draco's suit's tie.

"You look lovely." Pansy complimented her.

"Pansy, look at you!" Y/n returned the compliment, instructing Pansy to do a spin of her silver dress.

"Are we ready to go?" Draco asked, walking down the stairs. He was in a full black suit aside from his green tie. He bro-hugged Blaise and gave Pansy a hug before wrapping an arm around Y/n's waist.

Y/n nodded. "Let's do it."

Y/n hadn't seen how destructed Hogwarts was, but it now looked just like when she left. She couldn't help but feel sad at the tragedy that had occurred a month ago.

"It's odd being back," Pansy spoke what they were all thinking. Everyone gave her a nod of agreement.

The two couples walked into the great hall, hand in hand. Everyone was surprised to see Y/n. They still had no explanation for why she was gone.

Naturally, Y/n's eyes met her brother. She noticed how faded his lightning-bold scar looked. But she didn't go over to him, she just went to her house table.

McGonagall spoke, about the losses they had faced and how good always won in the end. Her speech was inspiring. Everyone was still distraught about the battle, it was evident on their faces.

They ate, laughing at their tables as the sky fell dark. Y/n had missed being at Hogwarts, it was like home to her. The couple finally made their way through the castle to go home when it was late.

"Y/n!" That was a voice she hadn't expected to hear. She hadn't heard him say her name in years. Harry. His voice was much deeper now.

Y/n stopped in her tracks, quickly turned around to look at him. She still looked like she remembered. "Hi." She greeted him, awkwardly rocking on her feet.

"I'll give you a moment," Draco mentioned, unlacing his hand with Y/n's and walking off.

Now, neither of them knew what to say. They were family but so disconnected.

"How are you?" Harry finally asked.

Y/n softly smiled. "I'm alright. And you?"

"Good." Harry stuttered. Silence fell again. "I'm so sorry." He blurted out. "I never should have said the things I did in 4th year. I was so angry about what Malfoy was saying and I couldn't believe it."

Y/n nodded. "I know, Harry, you don't need to explain it or be sorry."

"No, I do. I shouldn't have refused to talk to you for 3 years. It was childish and hurt you." Harry insisted. It made Y/n feel like the weight was off her shoulders. A weight she had been hauling for years. "I looked for you when I left Hogwarts for a whole year."

That was new information but it warmed Y/n's heart. "Harry, I had no idea." She replied, tears swelling in her eyes. "Narcissa told me you asked about me."

"I felt the worst I had ever felt. I was immature, and mum and dad would have been disappointed." Harry admitted.

Y/n shook her head, finally letting the tears fall at the thought of her parents. "Harry, no, please. They would be so proud of you for everything. I'm so sorry about everything I said as well. I just need to know if you hate me." She begged, looking into his matching eyes.

"I never hated you, not for a minute. I was mad but I was also stupid and prejudice." Harry told her, finally allowing her to relax. Y/n pulled him in for a hug without thinking about it. "I missed you so much." Harry was sobbing too, hot tears on Y/n's back.

"I missed you too. Ron and Hermione and the Weasley's too." Y/n told him, pulling back. "Would you maybe want to hang out sometime. Talk?"

Harry couldn't nod quick enough. "Yes, please. I'd really like that. We've missed a lot of time."

Y/n pulled him back in for another hug. It was like the two puzzle pieces were finally together. The part of her heart that was missing was now filled.

"Is your scar okay?" Y/n asked, running her left forefinger over Harry's forehead.

Harry nodded, glancing up at her finger. He noticed the ring. Harry grabbed Y/n's hand, examining it in front of her. "Oh my." He exclaimed.

"Please don't be mad." Y/n winced, breath shortening.

"No, not at all," Harry told her. "I just want to be a part of your life. Draco's as well." He told her honestly. Y/n had never felt better than she did right then.

"Thank you," Y/n told him. "Are you with Ginny?" She couldn't help but ask.

Harry smiled as he nodded. "Yeah. This ring is phenomenal though." Harry mentioned, smiling as he met Y/n's eyes.

"I know." Y/n agreed a giddy smile on her face.

Today just might have been the best day of her life. She had a twin brother she spoke to and an amazing fiancee. Life was perfect.

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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

Text

all the flowers will bloom

hades!natasha x persephone!reader

summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.

warnings: my own take on greek mythology (apologies to greek people who may possibly see this), usage of both persephone and y/n, angry gods, this is a short series, angst and fluff!!

word count: 4.2k

this is part one!!

please guys i’m so excited for this one, already have so much written and planned!!

You were born from your mother thousands of years ago without so much as a whimper, and when you arrived after a particularly peaceful and short labor,, flowers bloomed for miles. You grew quickly, and you had gained the power of life within everything that grew. Your domain was everything that the light touched and below in the soil, and soon, you were the young goddess of nature and growth. If anyone wanted to find you, they could surely look at the trail of bright flowers that you left with every step of your feet.

The name you were born with was Persephone. But just as the humans wanted to make names for themselves, you wanted one of your own, too. One that was not overshadowed by your mother being Demeter, one of the twelve Olympian Gods, and the ever kind yet harsh Goddess of the Harvest. And so, you changed your name, like many of the others much older than you had done, and all but your mother and the nymphs that she charged to take care of you called you Y/N.

“Lady Persephone,” a soft voice called from behind you as you dipped your toes into your favorite pond, and you sighed when you looked over your shoulder even after recognizing the familiar voice. “Your mother wants you home soon.”

You knew that your mother did. She always wanted you home, away from the outside world- where you truly belonged. She didn’t want you anywhere that she couldn't walk twenty steps to get to you, despite you being two thousand years old. Your mother’s idea of a good day was when you stayed inside, and it wasn’t fair. When you could convince her to let go of your leash just a little, she sent nymphs to watch you, girls you weren’t even close to. They were so focused on not angering your mother that they hardly cared about what you thought. But deep down, you understood. Your mother’s hand was just as gentle as it was harsh, and like the harvest she watched over, she only gave you what you gave her to work with. If you produced her mind with the equivalent of dry soil and broken land, she would be unruly, fickle, quick to fall apart in frustration. If you watered her and gave her the amount of sunlight she needed, she would bless you. She had been that way since the dawn of her time.

“I don’t feel like returning, I’ve only just gotten here.” You weren’t looking at them, but you could practically feel the way that they were eyeing each other, getting more nervous with every passing second. You felt the bottom of the shallow part of the lake that you were in with your foot, and you smiled at the sound of silence, knowing that it would only last for a few minutes.

“Your mother will be quite angry if something happens to you, my lady.”

“Nothing is going to happen for that reason,” you sighed, and when you got a few moments of silence, you knew that they knew you were right.

You walked through life practically fearlessly. From birth, you were deeply connected to every animal . You had no reason to fear even the most vicious bear or boar, and you could not die from poisonous plants of any kind. No minor or major god who knew your mother would even dare come close to you with any ill intent, and humans never came where you liked to be. You were probably the safest god of them all, besides Zeus himself.

“Please don't make me return to that house so early,” you pleaded softly, making sure to not sound too whiny. “I need fresh air. I need to feel grass under my feet. How am I supposed to be the goddess of vegetation if I cannot even see the vegetation?”

If you had been paying more attention, you would have felt the way that the grass started to sway and the whispers of plants all around you. And you surely would have felt the way that part of the ground opened up to reveal your mother, who had heard your entire small speech. “My, what a talker you are.”

You turned around to face her, and she was already giving you a look before she started to talk to you yet again. “I have already told you to not guilt these kind nymphs into doing you any favors. You’re lucky that they still want anything to do with you, you trouble maker.”

“It’s not my fault that you don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I don’t trust men,” she said, her voice hushed. “They are cruel, and they are disgusting. And you are not to be alone when they could be around.”

“There are none here.”

“You wouldn’t know until it’s too late,” she reasoned, and she held a hand out for you. You grimaced when she pulled your legs out of the water and dismissed the nymphs kindly, and they jumped into the water themselves and disappeared. “I cannot trust many with you, my flower. Do not be rude to the very few that I do.”

You scowled as she turned her back, a face that you had never quite grown the courage to make while she was still watching you. You could rattle off many people that your mother had scared away and told you to stay far away from, and that included humans, most men, and a few of the gods that she didn’t trust to not attempt to take you away.

That was her biggest fear, though she never said it explicitly. It was clear that her fierce protectiveness came from her terror. Young girls were always at risk by being taken, by gods and men alike who had no regard for the opinion or feelings of women. It seemed that every hundred years or so, a huge war would break out on earth, and typically, it was because one man’s wife became another’s hostage. And between gods… it was not unheard of for them to take young goddesses and make them bear heirs. None of the ones that you were close with ever did anything like that, but that didn’t make the threat less real. Your mother made sure that you knew of that.

“Don’t speak to Hermes alone,” your mother would say, her voice half full of fondness. “He means well most of the time, but he is capable of fast talking you into selling your time and your soul.” And then there was another string of advice, such as, “ Never go too far out in the sea. Poseidon is moody, and he may not spare you if you start to drown. It takes a village to anger him, but go out of your way to not push Zeus. He is the mightiest of all, and if he wishes to strike you down, he will.” And with every single harsh word about them, she would always say that she doubted that anyone would truly ever wish harm towards you, the youngest of the young gods, the harmless little Goddess of Growth.

Except for Hades.

“She is pure evil,” your mom had hissed out, and you remembered flinching back at how angered she suddenly was by just the thought of the ancient goddess, and you knew from stories that the nymphs used to tell you that your mother and Hades went way back. And though you didn’t know the full story, you certainly understood that they knew each other not in the best of ways.

“She is capable of murdering anything with even a sliver of life in it, and she reigns over the dead. Anyone who is condemned to have such a gloomy job for all of eternity must be evil, and that she is. If you ever see her, or ever start to feel the choking feeling of death in the air and are not with me, you are to run until you cannot run anymore, do you understand me?” She had made you nod and tell her that you understood verbally, and still, even as days passed, the tension never left her body.

Days later, while nursing a flower as slowly as possible from its bud, you called for her. “Mother,” she turned her head and smiled when she saw what you were doing, and then she responded softly, urging you to continue. “What really happened between you and the Goddess of the Dead?” Her smile dropped instantly.

You never really got the full story about what happened.

§§

You had seen what was happening to you happen to others hundreds of times, mostly humans. Your favorite humans were the ones just like you, young women with parents who were worried sick about everything. And soon, you realized a pattern. Every single one of those children had rebelled in ways, some more drastic than others. It took you two thousand years and a few extra nights for you to realize that it was your turn. You were going to sneak out from right under your mother’s nose, and you were going to be back before the morning. Unless, of course, you found something worth staying for. Something worth risking the wrath of your mother for.

It took weeks for her to leave you alone, even if it was for a second. And for that one instance while she wasn’t breathing down your throat, you shot off like an arrow, out of her sight before she even realized that you had been brave enough to run. You hadn’t ever had to run, but it felt exhilarating. You could feel the wind against your skin and the petals of each flower lovingly brushing against your legs. It felt more freeing than growing wildflowers by your cabin, under the watchful eye of an Olympian and her guard dogs that came in the beautiful form of nymphs.

You had never felt so good in your entire two thousand years.

Feeling life had always been something you could do, and you could feel it even more now that you were running, breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth like you had seen soldiers do. With every breath that expanded your lungs, you felt like you could feel trees swaying, or hear leaves singing to you. It grew more addicting, and before you even knew it, you were running until you didn’t recognize where you were. You slowed down with a smile on your face, chuckling to yourself when you thought about how furious your mother was going to be. And then you felt it.

Something to the left of you was terribly, terrifyingly wrong. The life in the area was thriving, but something, a cave it seemed, was crawling with the scary and breathtaking feeling of death. You had felt it before, while discovering lifeless dear or helping your mother bless crops that humans thought had no hope. But you had never felt death on the scale that you were in that moment, and even though the feeling was making you more and more sick by the second, you couldn’t help but approach the cave, the darkest thing in your vision while everything else had enough colors to satisfy your eyes for the rest of your life.

You didn't know what was in the cave. It could have been a dead person for all you knew, but your gift was more or less affecting the cycle of life. You could help. And help, you would. So, you trudged towards the cave and stepped in, your hand covering your throat once you felt the constricting feeling come back even stronger than before. And then, in the dim light, you saw it.

It was a tree, one so dead that it was nearly unrecognizable as one. It had shrunk into itself, almost to the size of a bush, and you could see that the fruits on it had shriveled up, and like the rest of the tree, lost all color. You frowned and uncovered your throat, stepping forward as you watched the dry thing in pity. You reached out for it, bottom lip jutting out as you tried to understand what on earth had happened for it to appear like that. Before you could even ask yourself why you did it, you reached forward and touched the thing with your hand, and like it had known you all along, it started to slowly grow.

It took you a few long minutes to grow it to a point where you recognized the tree, and saw that it was growing pomegranates. The fruit grew redder by the second, and the feeling of death and decay was leaving, but for some reason, traces of it still lingered below, and you figured that it was in the soil. You grinned as you nursed the tree back to life, and the inside of the cave seemed to be just a little brighter.

“I wonder how long you’ve been left here to rot,” you murmured to yourself, your fingers itching to grab one dark purple pomegranate and bite into it, but you knew better. You had just brought it back to life, and eating a part of it would have been cruel. “I wonder if you were even prettier back before-” the ground beneath you made an odd noise, like the earth was taking its first shaky breath, and you braced yourself against the wall of the cave. You gasped when it came back even stronger, and a short scream left your throat when you felt the ground open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

§§

You must have screamed the whole way down, because when you landed harshly on your back, you heard echoes of yourself. You turned and coughed, shaking your head to get rid of the stars that flooded your vision. And then, the second your airways opened, they tightened again, the feeling of death so strong that you thought that you were well on your own way.

You coughed again and clawed at your throat, and then turned on your side as you fought for even just a sliver of breath, and then even with your blurry vision, you saw something huge and dark barreling your way.

“What’s she doing here?” You couldn’t answer. You hardly even knew if they were talking about you. You were still losing it on the ground, gripping at your torn dress and clawing at your throat like that would make it open up.

“She's not human.”

“Wait, wait, she’s not even dead!”

Somehow, the feeling of dread and darkness got even darker, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the overwhelming feeling of death surrounding you like a heavy blanket. “What is all the commotion about?”

Wherever you were grew silent. You heard people scrambling away, leaving you alone with the newcomer. The owner of the voice commanded everything, and you heard the distinct sound of heeled feet coming your way, clicking against stone. And then, right before you lost consciousness, there was a feather-light touch on your throat, right where you felt it was constricting the most, and then you felt the weight on your chest lift off all at once.

You barely got in three breaths before someone shook you, and you blinked rapidly before turning your head towards whoever was grabbing you so boldly. Your eyes focused, and then you almost lost your breath all over again.

You had no time to ogle over the obviously powerful woman and the way she looked. Even if you had time, it would have been ruined by the way she was scowling at you like you were the bane of her existence. “How did you get here?”

You took in a choppy breath. “I don't know. I don’t know where I am.” You looked away from the angry woman and saw your surroundings, and immediately, your heart dropped to your toes.

It was gray. Gloomy. Without any sign of life, not even little buds of grass. There was no color besides a lazy river that was the lightest blue you had ever seen, and it added barely anything to the sight in front of you. The entire place seemed to be made of rock, like one big cave, and the feeling you were getting made you sick. You could breathe again, but something was right. Wherever you were, you were absolutely not supposed to be there.

The woman’s eyes were still narrowed on you, but you didn’t miss the way that her face lit up in the slightest of ways, and then rested at a look of understanding. She let go of you. “You fixed my tree, didn’t you?”

“Your tree?” You repeated, shaking your head and hiding the trembling of your hands by playing with the hem of your dress, something that your mother said that you should never do. It dawned on you seconds later, and you frowned. “The pomegranate tree? It was yours?”

“Of course it’s mine. How were you unaware?”

Before you could let yourself get offended by the woman’s harshness, you crossed your arms for a different reason. “How dare you let something die like that? You left it to rot, I could feel the death from miles away,” you exaggerated, but it still didn’t move the woman. “If you plant something and call it yours, it’s your responsibility to take care of it, not to let it die.”

“My plants never grow, young god.”

You scoffed, even though your mother would be embarrassed that you made the sound with such confidence. “Young god?” You straightened your posture even as your fear grew, and the stranger seemed to grow more and more amused by you. “We’ve never met. It’s bold of you to assume my age.”

“I’ve met all the Olympians, so tyou can’t be one of them, and you’re no demigod, either,” she said, and your heart clenched at the fact. You knew no one who had met all twelve of the major gods that wasn’t one. The woman was certainly a god, it was as obvious as anything in the world, but you had no idea of what. “And you glow like the morning sun. You’re a young god.”

“Maybe so,” you said softly. “But I request that you take care of the things you decide to create.”

“Most people don’t get brave enough to request things from me,” she mused, and then her crossed arms went to her side. “Do you lack the skills to look around you and infer?”

“I suppose I do today,” you shrugged, and she gave a light smirk, almost like you were her entertainment for the day. You could hear your mother’s voice in your head though, telling you to run and that this woman was no good, no matter how at ease she seemed in the moment. In fact, the closer she got to you and the longer she stood there, the more you felt death swirling in the air and trying to pierce through some sort of protection and finish you off for good.

“You’re in the Underworld, young god.” Your breath was stolen right out of your chest, and you could barely see the faint look of triumph on her face. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know what that tree was,” she said, and for some reason, her voice seemed to tease you more than reprimand you.

You knew vaguely of what it meant. Now that you knew it was the tree, the one tree on all heaven and earth that you had no business touching, you knew who it belonged to, and what it did. It belonged to the woman before you, the god whose presence was making you more and more terrified by the second. Now, you knew exactly who she was. “You?” You sputtered, and she lifted a perfect brow. “You’re Hades?”

You don’t know what you expected. Maybe a woman dressed in all back wit long, dark hair, and a sickly smile. Maybe you expected for her to look as terrifying as the thought of death was. You expected some one who looked much more terrifying than the red headed woman before you, even though she was without a doubt intimidating.

“I prefer another name, but that will do from you,” she said, and your jaw dropped. “And you saved my tree.” You knew you had, but the consequences of the far ff tale that you had never imagined would apply to you were running around in your head. You were kicking yourself for being drawn to the tree in the first place, and for your morbid curiosity and the way that you ran straight out of your mother’s suffocating but protecting arms. “Do you know what that means, young god?”

Your voice was shaky, almost not even there when you muttered the word “yes” and stared off into the distance, cursing yourself for not listening to what your mother had told you ever since you could remember.

“I hope you have enough strength for the entire garden, young god.”

You were bound to Hades and her realm by age old magic, and there was nothing that you or your mother could do until you found a way to do the impossible; make the Garden of Hell grow.

Your blank stare must have made her uneasy, because she snapped her fingers in front of your face. When you blinked, you saw something huge come barreling your way, and once you realized what it was, your heart fell into your stomach. She had summoned a huge, three headed dog to come and lean over the both of you, eyes yellow and staring at you with intrigue that made you want to screech. Instead, you swallowed. “Please. You can let me go, I won’t tell.”

“Its magic almost as old as I am, placed by Hecate. You may know her as Wanda.” She gave you a shrug, but she hardly looked bothered. “Her spell cannot be broken, not even by herself.”

Your breathing was accelerating, and you saw Hades look at you strangely, and you were sure she could sense your extreme fear. You locked eyes with the dog, the dog even you had heard of despite your mother cursing the owner’s name. “I don’t know how I fixed your tree, and I doubt I could do it again. Please, let me leave.”

“By bringing that tree back to life, you’ve made your decision and signed your name in blood.” You both ignored the pitiful sound that escaped your throat. “There’s nothing that I can do about it.”

You gulped. “My mother will come looking for me,” you said, and you watched her unbothered face drop just a bit, and then she tilted her head to the side. You had gotten her. “She won’t stop until she finds me and brings me home.”

“You say this like I should be afraid of your mother, who is no doubt a nymph of some far off forest.” You made a face. She simply shrugged, her shoulder length red hair bouncing a bit. “She’s nothing to me.”

Being a nymph was the furthest thing from dishonorable. They were loyal and always very beautiful. You almost cried when you realized that you would never see your overbearing nymphs again. “My mother is not a nymph.”

“I do not care for whatever minor goddess birthed you, young goddess. Not even Zeus could break this, and you’d best understand that.”

“My mother is friends with Hecate. She will make her find a way to release me, Hades.”

There was a pause in the conversation, but none of the tension faded. If anything, it only built on the silence. “How is it that you’re a god, yet I’ve never seen you?” Hades asked, a frown on her face.

“My mother keeps you far away from me because she despises you.” You spat, and you saw a flash of light behind her eyes, and she breathed out harshly. “I was never supposed to meet you.”

“The Fates have spun your destiny a different way than either of us have hoped, then.” She said, her voice rough as she looked you right in your eyes. It was then that you noticed how pale her blue eyes were, and the emotion that lacked. Her pink lips curled down all of a sudden, and then her eyes were narrowed. “Demeter, isn’t it? She’s your mother?”

You gathered all of the courage that you had left after everything that happened. The feeling of death was still intimidating, and even worse was the way Hades commanded the space with her hellhound. “Yes. And she will find me, and she will take me home.”

“This is a one way ticket until you can fix my garden, flower girl. Believe me, I don’t particularly want you here, either.” She looked you up and down, eyes lingering on the crown of flowers on your forehead and the way you had bands of them wrapped around your wrists and ankles. You were the brightest thing down there, and it was obvious that she wasn’t used to seeing things so… alive. “Your mother is just going to have to be upset.” She gave you one last look, her eyes on the dress made of fabric and flowers for a second too long to be categorized as a fleeting glance. She muttered something in a language that was foreign to you, and her unimaginably tall dog stood all the way up at attention, slightly baring its teeth at you until you forced yourself to look away from it.

And then they were gone. And you were alone. By yourself in the Land of the Dead, the one place a flower would never grow. In the one place where you could truly perish.

*******

hi guys! i really hope you guys liked this one, this idea has been like swirling around in my mind for months and i can’t get it to leave. it’s s much fun right now to write though, so i hope at least one of y’all enjoyed this lol

if you happen to like this and would like to be placed on one of my tragic tag lists, it’s a definite yes for me! thank you guys for reading this

#marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #natasha romanoff x reader #my fics #natasha x reader #hades!natasha x persephone!reader #natasha Romanoff fluff #natasha series #mythology au #greek mythology au #hades!natasha #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov fluff #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic

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demonslayedher · 3 years ago

Note

Is their any demon slayer character that you think should of had more screen time in the manga?

I could be diplomatic and say we could have benefitted from a smidge more bonding time with all of the non-Tanjiro cast, but instead I shall go on a selfish rant: we should have gotten more of that magatama-wearing peach-flinger, supposedly rightful heir to the Breath of Thunder himself, freaking Kaigaku.

It's probably no surprise that I say this as a Zenitsu Stan. The two deep-dives we got into Inosuke and Zenitsu's pasts were two-cour, and, these would have worked better with more of a bridge between the first and second cours (Natagumo arc and Infinity Fortress arc). Given Inosuke's personality it works a bit better that he was totally unbothered by an unusual memory or two and then floored by how suddenly important his mother became to him when facing her killer, but some odd recollections of Douma would have really sold that "whoa!! Baby Inosuke resided with an Upper Moon!!" shocker. Still, Inosuke was a baby, it only gets so personal (I would totally accept Douma & Baby Inosuke interactions, though, for absolutely sure, but Douma got a lot of satisfying development in his interactions with Shinobu, Kanao, and the other Upper Moons too). Zenitsu, unlike Inosuke, is someone who ruminates and takes everything personally. Jiichan and Kaigaku both had such an impact on him that it's odd for him to go most of the span of the series only thinking back to them once. It's one thing if Zenitsu chose never to mention Kaigaku to his friends, in fact, such a decision would say a lot about their relationship, but knowing Zenitsu he probably ranted about his mean martial brother at the slightest mention of something that might remind him of Kaigaku. But Zenitsu's feelings toward him were highly complex, and it would have been great to get those thoughts before the betrayal. Besides just being like, "oh no, not Jiichan!" we could have felt that twist of the knife in our backs too; Kaigaku's a character we don't get to appreciate until he's dying and already performed all his bad deeds (but I suppose that's the case for many of the other demons, a la Kimetsu logic).

While seeing more of Kaigaku would had been interesting as a Zenitsu fan, it would had also been an opportunity to bring out more in Himejima's character as well. Kaigaku was very keen on upward mobility in the Corp, he had to have had some familiarity with the current strongest people, and he had to have known who the Rock Pillar was and been like, "oh shit." Getting Kaigaku's perspective on Himejima would have given us a very different "oh dang, we should have been watching out for this crying guy" effect than Inosuke just declaring "dude be strong." (But alas, writing a serialized manga is hard and you fit things in where you can. Hence, Taisho Secrets.)

Mostly, it would had been great to get more Kaigaku for Kaigaku's sake. Channeling his anxieties in the form of emotional self-protection and aggression makes him a striking foil to Zenitsu in more than just their sorely lacking Thunder Breath capabilities. There was an arc there we didn't get to see unfold. He had to have some feelings left over from selfishly allowing that demon massacre to occur at the temple filled with orphans, whom he must have felt at some level he was better than. Having someone he respected see potential in him and treat him as someone special might have given him hope to make a better person out of himself, but if the same care could be given to someone like Zenitsu, then it probably made him feel pretty betrayed too. That drive to make himself be someone special is like a more dangerous look at Shinjuro's drives which drove him to depression, and it would had been so, so, so rich to see Kokushibo see some of himself in Kaigaku too, instead of only being like, "hmm, you're strong, guess I'll spare you."

But to have been in a fight against Upper Moon 1 and held out on his own that long in the first place? Especially someone who was still in training very recently? KAIGAKU WAS A FREAKING BOMBSHELL OF A POWERFUL DEMON SLAYER. He was already on Twelve Moon level when he turned; it must had driven Kaigaku mad to see that Zenitsu was the one running into all the strong demons and Thunderclap-and-Flashing his way up the ranks. Sure, he accepted Kokushibo's proposition because he was terrified. And I love that even someone as assured of his own specialness can succumb to mortal terror (again, interesting Zenitsu foil). But Kaigaku accepted this new role as readily as he accepted demon slaying as his calling; he set right about eating people, lots of people. Which people? We'll never know, but I'd like to think he ate those boys who Zenitsu punched for talking bad about him.

Kaigaku's belief in himself means that whenever he's cornered, he'll discard any previous identity and take on wholeheartedly whatever his new one is. Interesting choice to give him a magatama motif, those are thought to bring out one's innate spiritual power. He's always relied most on himself. Once Kuwajima let him down, he didn't need Kuwajima anymore. Even once he become filled with Muzan's blood (and approval), he wasn't in it for Muzan, he was in it to prove himself superior and talented.

But Kaigaku so, so desperately looks outside of himself for approval anyway. HE'S SUCH A TRAGEDY. And if we had gotten more snippets of him here and there throughout the manga, even just one scene of Zenitsu running into him and getting told off for punching those guys, we would have had the anticipation of him being an inevitable train wreck instead of just "mean guy who was mean to Zenitsu and will probably be mean again in future chapters because he is mean."

No, Kaigaku was mean because he had so many of his own insecurities to wrestle with and he was so bad at that and I wish, I wish, I wish we could have gotten more of Kokushibo being like, "I have the cure for insecurities, just don't be a weak human anymore" (especially because Kokushibo appreciated he could be honest in Muzan's service instead of having to privately wrestle with his jealousy and angst of impending demise, so it would had been great to give Kaigaku a similar outlet). And if Muzan was willing to promote him to Upper Moon 6 so quick off the bat, I wish we could have seen some interaction between them, like Muzan showing up to the site of Kaigaku's first blood bath and praising Kaigaku for his eagerness to get stronger and his potential as a powerful demon. How GOOD that would had sounded to Kaigaku's ears. And dang, oh man, if Himejima could had known, if he could had known ANYTHING about Kaigaku joining the Corp and then showing his true colors, being an untrustworthy little shit because that's all humans usually are, w o w that would had painted more of Himejima's dark side besides just saying a 4-year-old girl was a selfish human (I would totally accept more Himejima cynicism, especially because it's so disconcerting coming from one of the most level-headed characters in this whole manga).

Phew. Anyway. I guess I could go on a rant about a lot of good scenes we could have gotten from many of the characters, but I still stick with Kaigaku as my answer to his because he's the acting agent in a betrayal, and betrayals work best if first see what it is that they're destroying. AAAAUUGHHH I LOVE A GOOD BETRAYAL and this one feels like it was written backwards, I wish it could had been seasoned throughout the text more instead of taking the lid off the shaker and dumping a pile of salt into a few short chapters. KAIGAKU, YOU ARE ONE BIG PILE OF SALT. But also you deserved to have your pain shared, you selfish twit, come back here in some earlier chapters and let us see you try to have a stiff upper lip when people point out your insecurities, you were trying so hard, you big baby, come back here and let us a love you a bit before you zap us with your betrayal.

*angrily throws peaches to conclude the venting Ask reply*

#Kaigaku #KnY Fandom Theories and Meta #because I was forced to read into his character with what little we got #Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayer

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years ago

Text

Anything, For You

This is a continuation of Anything. Please be sure to read that part first if you want some context!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal and Anal), Threesome (Double Penetration), Weed / Alcohol Use, Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Public Foreplay, Public Humiliation, Spanking, Choking, Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader

Words: 12,128

Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader x Guitarist!Kirishima Eijirou

Quirkless, Punk rock band AU

Not specifically written for, but using it for the @bnhabookclub ‘s members bingo event!

Crossed off: Threesome

Bingo Masterlist

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Art in banner by me

Tag list: @lady-bakuhoe , @gallickingun , @unbreakableeiji , @boom-bakugou , @honeytama , @wakaoujisenhime , @ikinabi , @thotpatrolcaptain , @1-800-callmekatsuki , @tomurasprincess , @bratwritings

You nervously tightened your grip on the small clutch in your hands, digging your nails into the faux leather and ignoring the sting of the metal pointed studs against your skin. For a few minutes now, you had just been standing outside of the club Garden, listening to the loud music and watching the flashing neon lights every time the door opened. With each group of people leaving, stumbling out drunk and high off adrenaline from dancing, the same amount were let in from an insanely long line, which even curved around the building to where you couldn’t see. There were so many people waiting to go in, and yet, you knew that you could just bypass this line and go on in.

Why were you so nervous?

It wasn’t the thought that you would be glared or yelled at by the people waiting if you skipped the line. Sure, it might make you a bit embarrassed if they picked at you, but that wasn’t the problem. No, it was who was waiting inside the club and who gave you that exact privilege to just come on in that terrified you.

Bakugou 10:50 pm: come to the club Garden downtown around 1 am. just show your ID at the door and theyll let you in past the line.

Me 10:51 pm: Just me?

Bakugou 10:51 pm: just you, babe. your shitty friends arent invited.

After releasing a trembling breath, you opened your clutch to take a quick look at your phone, giving a small groan at the time that showed 1:02 am. It was time to go in, but you were so damn nervous. How could you not be? Showing up to a strange and very crowded club, to hang out and drink with your favorite people - or, well, person - on this planet? With what happened earlier that night, you knew that any type of debauchery could go down, and the stinging welts on your asscheek were testament to that. But there was going to be way more involved. More people, alcohol, and most likely some type of drugs, for sure. You knew that you’d need to be vigilant, but being in Bakugou’s presence again, you weren’t sure you’d have the willpower to say no to anything that was handed your way.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your hand, startling you enough to make you jump and almost lose your balance on your chunky, boot style platform heels. Looking at the screen, the fire in your cheeks grew hotter, reading the text that Bakugou had just sent you.

Bakugou 1:03 am: where are you at, babygirl? scared?

Me 1:03 am: No, I’m about to come in. There’s… a lot of people.

Bakugou 1:04 am: fuck them and come inside. there’s someone waiting to bring you up.

Releasing a trembling breath, you put your phone back in your clutch and pulled out your ID instead, gathering your courage to walk up to the front door. One of the two bouncers immediately looked down at you with a threatening posture, though his demeanor changed at the sight of your timid presence.

“Skipping the line?”

“I… have VIP permissions. From Bakugou Katsuki… I’m [f/n] [l/n]. He said I should be on a list.”

Taking your ID, the bouncer first checked it over with a flashlight to confirm its authenticity, before picking up a clipboard that was resting on a stool beside him. It only took him a moment before finding your name, smiling and giving a nod. “Yep, there you are. Follow me.” Putting the clipboard down and handing you the ID back, he made his way through the front door, at first holding it open for some people leaving before allowing you through.

Any objections you may have heard from the people in line were immediately drowned out by the music, the heavy beat shaking the ground. It was quite dark in the large industrial style building, with only blacklights and flashing neon skylights illuminating the dancefloor. Though, up one floor, you could see a loft area with mostly regular lighting, though it was dimmed, and you wondered if that’s where you would be going.

Following the bouncer as he made his way past, you used his impressive height and size to push through the crowds, since he was easily able to part the sea of bouncing drunken bodies. He led you to the stairs, as you had expected, and started to make his way up, only giving you a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you were still following. Or to make sure that no one else was coming up, either. You weren’t sure.

As you made your way up, you felt a bit embarrassed that the stairway was mostly exposed, using your free hand to hold your short dress up against your backside to hopefully keep anyone from seeing anything private. You weren’t wearing any hose this time, since the only ones you had brought with you into town for the concert were the fishnets that Bakugou had destroyed earlier. Your only cute pair of underwear had also been destroyed, so right after the concert, you had to hunt some down. All you could find at the only store still open was a pair of cute little lace boy short style panties, which were quite sexy and were decently invisible under your dress. You knew that they would be, since you got them from a damn porn shop. There was nothing else open at midnight, so there was no choice. It still ended up perfect, though. If something else did end up happening, you assumed he would like them. Or you hoped so.

The closer you got to the loft, you realized that it was actually surrounded by glass. The only thing that was solid was the door, which was opened after a loud series of knocks from the bouncer. After a click, another man opened it up, glancing first at your guide before down to you. “She’s invited?”

“Yes. [f/n] [l/n]. Bakugou’s guest.” Stepping aside, the bouncer and what appeared to be a security guard allowed you inside, the door shutting immediately once you passed the threshold. The sudden volume difference of the room startled you a bit, as did the change in lighting, but you were quick to take in your surroundings.

There were multiple couches and chairs scattered about in strategic locations, along with tables that were already piled up with drinks. The room was much smaller than it seemed, with only one other door along the back solid wall, which you assumed was a bathroom. Then, your eyes landed on the men you adored, and your entire body instantly flushed with heat as you noticed all their eyes on you.

“Your clutch, ma’am?”

The security guard pulled you out of your stupor, holding his hand out in front of you. Nervously, you placed it in his hand, watching as he placed it in a bag behind him and zipped it up. Immediately after, he ran some type of long beeping device across the front and back of your body about an inch away, which you assumed was a metal detector. When it didn’t go off, he allowed you to walk further in with a wave of his hand, and you timidly stepped forward while pulling down your dress, clearing your throat a bit in awkwardness.

“Hey there, babygirl.” Bakugou spoke with a sly smirk on his face, holding a glass of dark colored liquor near his lips. “Finally made it. Took you fucking long enough.”

“Sorry…” Making your way towards the couch he was on, you took a moment to look at the other members, trying to control the nervous swirling of your stomach. “Nice to see you all again…”

“You were in our first meet up group, right?” Midoriya smiled at you, placing his hand on the thigh of a curvaceous woman that was placed firmly on his lap. His voice was still quite strained and cracked, worn from the performance. “Kacchan told me he invited someone, but he didn’t tell me who!”

“Because it’s none of your damn business, Deku,” With a snap of his finger as he held his hand out towards you, Bakugou commanded you over to him silently. Not even taking a second to think about it, you approached, taking his hand. He led you with only a gentle pull to stand between his legs, placing both of his hands on your outer thighs. “You look good, babygirl.”

“T-thank you-” You were cut off by the sound of a door closing, along with an annoyed whine.

“Aww, what the fuck?! Even Bakugou was able to get a girl this time, and he never does! I must have really sucked today.” Huffing, Kaminari shuffled his way towards an empty armchair, flopping down to sit with his legs stretched out in front of him, toes pointed towards the ceiling. “Bullshit.”

“You suck all the time, dunceface.”

“I do not! All the girls wanted me at our last gig.”

“Yeah, because both Deku and Kirishima were out of commission after that, so they had no other option. Don’t be such a little bitch, if you want girls, go fucking dance.” Although Bakugou’s snappy demands were directed at his companion, his glazed over crimson eyes never left your body. They scanned over every inch of you quite diligently, as if he were missing you greatly just from these few hours apart. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you let one rest tenderly on his bicep while running the other softly through his bangs, pulling the fair blonde hair loose of the light grip of sweat that stuck it to his skin. You weren’t sure if it was the lighting in the room or maybe his intoxication, but you could have sworn that you could see the tips of his ears flush with your touch.

“But I don’t want to go dance alone!” Kaminari whined, sinking further into the chair. His voice broke your concentration on the man in front of you, looking at the pouting bass player over your shoulder. It was odd, you thought, that there weren’t as many girls in here as you expected. Actually, there was only you and the girl with Midoriya, whose attention was fully on him, hands on his freckled cheeks and playfully squishing them together. Her bobbed brunette hair gave away who she was, as you had seen her in many of his social media postings, but you couldn’t quite remember her name. All you knew was that they were dating and had been friends for a very long time, but that didn’t really matter right now.

Kirishima sighed, resting his arms up over the back of the couch, his hand pulling your attention as it came to rest decently close to Bakugou’s head, though the drummer didn’t protest or seem to even notice. “C’mon, man, don’t be such a downer! I think you need to take another hit and get down there. Take Todoroki with you.”

Kaminari scoffed, looking over at the silent member of their band, who was more focused on his phone and his fancy martini looking drink than anything they were talking about. “What, so he can go stand in the middle of the dancefloor like a weirdo? He doesn’t have any dancing rhythm! He barely moves when we’re performing!”

“Yeah, but girls like him more than you, he’d help you catch their attention.”

“Now you’re all just being assholes!” Huffing, Kaminari sat up and leaned forward, snatching up a small glass pipe and the lighter beside it. “It’s not my fault that no one likes the bass players! I’m not as cool as you!”

“Hey, I’ve offered to play bass sometimes.” Kirishima grinned, reaching over to scratch the side of his nose. “But Bakugou won’t let us switch--”

“Fuck no.” Bakugou interrupted, now glowering at his friends, both of his strong hands resting on your hips firmly. “That’s too much power I’m not willing to give you, dunceface.”

“Rude.” Grumbling under his breath, Kaminari glared down at the pipe as he brought it to his lips, lighting it up and taking a hit. The smell of weed hit your nose immediately as he exhaled, the cloud of smoke leaving his lips slowly as he leaned back in the chair. “Midoriya would.”

“Because he’s a dipshit.”

“You’re so aggressive today! I think you’re the one that needs a hit, bro.”

“Fuck that shit. I’m not looking to fall asleep any time soon.”

“You’re up way past your bedtime, anyway. Grandpa.” Passing the pipe and lighter over to Kirishima as he beckoned for it, Kaminari gave a sly smirk, knowing he could press Bakugou’s buttons while you were in his way. You could feel Bakugou’s grip tighten in irritation and see his brows furrow, but to your surprise, he was quick to calm, giving an annoyed click of his tongue as he used only slight pressure to pull you to the side, gesturing to the couch for you to sit. You did so, now effectively squished between the two men, one taking a hit while the other gulped down what was left of his drink.

If you were honest, you felt quite… awkward. You didn’t really know what to do with yourself and you weren’t sure if talking would be welcomed. You were new to this tight knit group, and even though you admired and adored every single one of them, you almost felt like you didn’t belong there. Were you really worthy of being in their presence like this or being so close to Bakugou as he rested an arm around your shoulders, pulling you up against his side? It felt like a dream, and you were horrified that at any moment, you would wake up to find yourself lonely in your hotel bed.

“Want a hit, sweetheart?”

Your thoughts were disrupted by Kirishima’s pleasant ringing voice, his smile soft and comforting as he held the pipe and lighter towards you. At first, you hid your face a bit behind Bakugou’s forearm, fiddling with your nails. “I’ve never done it before… I probably shouldn’t.”

“Aw c’mon, you should! You’re safe here with us! That’s pretty cool, too, isn’t it? To have you first hit ever with your favorite band.” Kirishima’s eyes left yours for a moment as he glanced up, most likely at Bakugou, though there wasn’t anything malicious that you could see. He was genuinely being very nice about it, and so far, no one had protested. Still, you looked up at Bakugou for approval, a sly smirk crossing his lips when you did so.

“What, babygirl? Looking for permission?”

Feeling heat rush to your cheeks at his domineering tone, you nodded. “Yes. Is it okay?”

“What do you say?” His rough fingers took hold of your chin, tilting your head up as he leaned in, whisky tainted lips brushing against yours. Your heart began to race, chest heaving with steady, heavy breaths as you parted your lips expectantly. But, you were left with nothing until you answered, and you did so without a second thought or worry about what anyone else in the room might think.

“Please, Katsuki.”

A low hum resonated in his chest in satisfaction of your response, pressing his hot lips against yours to reward you for being so obedient. Or, at least, that’s how you understood it. In the few hours that you had been away from him, there hadn’t been a single moment of lucidness where you felt like you had escaped whatever hold he had placed on you. In fact, your wanting to be at his side only grew worse, to hear him praise you and reward you when you were a good girl for him.

His praise. His touch. His attention. All of it was so intoxicating, and you wanted more.

When he set your lips free after just a short moment, it took only a light bump to your chin to have you turn your head to look back at Kirishima, who was waiting patiently. He was still smiling, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eye, as if he had been waiting to see just how obedient you still were. It was gone with a blink, his pleasant and cheerful demeanor taking over as he held the pipe up between his fingers.

“Yeah? Gonna do it, sweetheart?”

“Sure,” You answered meekly, turning a bit more to face him. “Uhm… How do I do it?”

Kirishima was very thorough in his explanation of how to use the pipe, and by the time he was done, you felt confident that you could do it. Though, your confidence didn’t amount to much, as you still ended up with quite the coughing fit after your first hit. Behind the coughing and burning in your throat, you could hear Kaminari gasp out in surprise, though you couldn’t quite focus on him yet through the smoke.

“Holy shit, Kirishima, you should have just prepped it for her, that’s gonna fuck her up!”

Chuckling, Kirishima handed you a cup of water, which you gulped down eagerly. “She’s fine, that wasn’t that bad! A little too aggressive on sucking it in, but you’ll get it down. You okay?” He gave your thigh a few comforting pats, his lingering on your bare skin not quite registering in your mind as you tried to calm the burning in your throat. Thankfully, it was fading decently quick, but it still wasn’t anything like what you had expected.

“I’m okay,” You choke out after a moment, placing both the glass of water and the pipe down on the coffee table in front of you. “You guys make it look so easy!”

“That’s because they’re fucking potheads.” Bakugou pulled you back up against him. “Especially Dunceface over there. Can’t go five minutes without being high.”

“Don’t be telling lies about me, Kacchan.” Kaminari waddled a finger at his friend, and you could tell that he was feeling pretty relaxed compared to a while ago. “It’s more like three minutes.”

“Shut up. Where the fuck’s our bartender? We haven’t gotten new drinks-”

“-Let’s go down, then!” Kaminari hopped up to his feet, clapping his hands together to try and get his friends riled up. “Let’s get some drinks and dance like we’re normal people, no one’s gonna recognize us down there, it’s too dark! This VIP shit gets boring sometimes. Right, Todoroki?” With a bounce in his step, he walked over behind the couch his quiet friend was sitting on, giving him a firm smack on the shoulders. “You’re just over here on your phone! Let’s go dance!”

Todoroki took his friend shaking him from side to side like a champ, not looking away from his phone or spilling his drink. “I’ll sit at the bar, but I’m not going to dance.”

“You will after a couple of shots. Midoriya? Ochaco?”

“Let’s go, Deku!” Hopping up off his lap, the brunette took both of Midoriya’s hands, trying to pull him up with meager strength. “Let’s all go!”

With a heavy sigh in defeat, Midoriya stood, as did Todoroki. Though, there was no movement from either of the two men beside you, so you glanced between them curiously. Kirishima seemed interested, while Bakugou looked like he wanted to throw them all off the balcony just to get some peace. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement of being here, the electric energy from Kaminari, or the hit you had taken, but you really wanted to go. You were feeling restless and, if you were honest, kind of bummed out that you were still the only one who hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. You came here to have a good time with these guys. With Bakugou. But how could you talk him into it?

“You losers coming or not?” Kaminari barked before you could say a word, glowering at the three of you still plastered on the couch as he stood by the door, waiting for their security guard to unlock it and step out. “Kacchan, you were complaining about drinks, come down and get some with us!”

“Fuck, fine! If it will shut you up!”

Everything changed pace in a blink of an eye from that moment. Before you knew it, you had taken two shots of… something, and sucked down a drink faster than you thought you would, all while watching the bouncing bodies on the dance floor with Bakugou at your side. Though, he wasn’t just standing next to you. His arm was hooked around your waist like a vice, his powerful and off-putting presence preventing any man with wandering eyes from even considering trying to come up to you. At first, you felt a bit embarrassed that he was so close and so protective, but you also couldn’t help but feel… flattered. And that flattery brought up a new bubbling in your belly.

You were so happy. Again, you didn’t know if it was because of the high or the alcohol, but you were absolutely beyond tickled. It was such a strong sensation, in fact, that you couldn’t help but start to bounce on your feet and sway to the music. Your hips bumped into Bakugou’s as he stood beside you, one arm around your shoulders while the other propped him up on the bar counter. With the bump, he tightened his arm around your neck, pulling you in closer to him and pressing his lips against your ear so you could hear him over the blaring music.

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing!” You responded near his ear as he turned his head to hear you. “I like this song!”

“You call that dancing?” With his insult, he moved his arm around your back and gave you a small push forward towards the dance floor, smirking at the confusion on your face when you looked back at him. Taking your drink from your hands, he finished off the last bit of it before leaving it on the counter behind him, giving your ass a tap to guide you forward. Within moments, you were both swallowed by the giant group of sweating, bouncing bodies, all who had little to no care on who they were touching or where they were moving.

And yet, with Bakugou's arms around your waist from behind, you felt like you were completely enveloped in your own bubble. Just you, him, and the music. What truly snapped your restraint was his deep growl in your ear, tugging your hips tightly back so that your ass was firmly pressed against him.

“Show me how you can really dance, babygirl.”

No one would truly call the way you rubbed your bodies against each other to the rhythm of the music “dancing”, but all your body could comprehend in your intoxicated state. The flashing neon lights, from pitch black to strobing, was almost making you dizzy, and the only thing that seemed to alleviate the disorientation was putting all your focus on Bakugou.

The way you two moved was seamless and in tune, his hands freely roaming your body with no fears of being noticed within the densely packed group. Even if someone did notice, you wouldn’t care. All you cared about was his lips against the skin of your neck, his fingers digging into your plush curves and the hard presence of his cock beneath his pants. Just feeling it against your ass made you remember how good he felt fucking you, the way he filled up every inch of your aching cunt and made you scream for him.

How he made you his.

How you would do anything for him.

How he owned you.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

The voice in your ear was a sweet growl; more of a purr to calm and coax you. It was so comforting that you almost forgot where you were for a moment, until you did as you were told. Instead of a group of dancing bodies in front of you, you were met with a clear view of that brilliant, wide grin sported only by Kirishima. He was in front of you, dancing with you and Bakugou together, his hands also firmly on your body to keep you pinned between the two men.

Your entire body immediately flushed hot, pressing further back against Bakugou to try and get some space between you and the redhead. “K-Kiri-!”

“Don’t you even think about it.” Bakugou growled in your ear, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Let him touch you.”

You didn’t have much time to even consider complying before Bakugou moved you both forward, not allowing you any space or chance to dip out from between them. You were trapped. How long had Kirishima even been there? Whose hands had been touching you this entire time, squeezing your breasts and your hips so eagerly? Had it been both of them? Whose hand was that right now, sliding up your thigh and bringing your dress with it.

What was happening? They couldn’t actually be thinking about touching you here on the dancefloor, could they? In the privacy of the VIP room, maybe, but out here in the middle of all these people? Someone would notice!

You tried to squeak out a plea to stop, but Bakugou’s hand around your throat stopped any little sound from slipping out. Instead, your hips were pulled forward and snug against Kirishima’s, one of his legs between yours so that you were practically sitting on his thigh. But that wasn’t where your hips were directed. Instead, with the beat of the music, Kirishima rutted his hips against you, and you could easily feel the hard presence of his cock against your scantily clothed sex. He was wearing loose black joggers, so there was basically nothing between you, and with both men surrounding you completely and still moving with the music, there was no hope of someone noticing.

Needing to ground yourself, you clutched on to both of Kirishima’s biceps, his hands set firmly on your hips. The digging of your nails into his skin only seemed to spur him on further, becoming rougher with his thrusts, and the more he stroked across your clit, the more you began to lose yourself. It felt so good, even though you knew that it shouldn’t. It was Bakugou all over again, fucking your throat raw as your essence dripped down your thighs, just as it was now. Kirishima was using you for his own gratification, and Bakugou was allowing it. This wasn’t okay.

You clenched your eyes shut tightly as Bakugou’s hands moved to caress your breasts, squeezing them roughly and eagerly pinching your nipples. You heard him groan in your ear, his attention to your nipples increasing as he noticed the little studs in place. “Oh fuck, babygirl, I didn’t know you had piercings here, too. I’m an idiot for not stripping you in the changing room, but I’m not going to make that mistake tonight.”

His teeth sinking into the skin of your neck and another harsh twist made your body jolt, a moan involuntarily slipping through your lips. Before it could get far, it was devoured by Kirishima, who kissed you passionately to silence you.

What should I do? It feels good, but… I didn’t want Kirishima like this!

A rough nibble to your lip forced your mouth open, unable to stop or resist Kirishima's tongue from invading. He tasted like weed and the sour sting of an energy drink still on his lips, but that isn’t what made you want to pull away. Was he… a better kisser than Bakugou? No one could be better than the blonde behind you… at anything! And yet, here Kirishima was, making you completely breathless and absolutely on fire. It wasn’t so brash or dominating, either.

You loved it. A lot.

A moan leaked through the kiss as Bakugou moved his lips to your ear, running his tongue along the shell of it before nibbling harshly at the delicate skin below. “You like his cock rubbing up against you, baby? You like being pinned between us like the little desperate whore you are?”

Kirishima finally released your lips, giving you a chance to take in deep trembling breaths. “Yes, Katsuki! But I— “

“What?”

“I really have to pee!”

Both men paused with your proclamation, watching your face in confusion as you stood there trembling in their grip. You hadn’t been lying, and it was clear as day in your flushed face. You needed to go to the restroom. If you didn’t, you knew there would be an accident all over yourself and the two men that held you.

“You’re serious?” Kirishima spoke loudly enough so you could hear him, and you nodded with urgency. After glancing at Bakugou, he took a step back, awkwardly trying to make his boner mostly invisible behind his joggers. “Okay. I’d rather you not piss all over.”

Bakugou turned your head towards him, his glare immediately making your legs feel weak. “He’ll take you upstairs. I’m going to get more drinks and meet you up there. You better not be using this as an excuse, or I’ll have to punish you.”

“I-it’s not, Katsuki, I promise- mmph!” You were silenced as he kissed your lips roughly, his frustration at having to stop apparent. Then, with a rough tap to your ass, you were urged forward and into Kirishima’s arms. You didn’t get a chance to glance back at Bakugou as you were led through the crowd, Kirishima using his height and size to easily push through and bump people out of the way without too much inconvenience to you. Much to your surprise, he was quite attentive of you, pulling you out of the way of wild swinging arms and keeping a firm grip on you in case you were tripped by stray feet.

By the time you finally reached the stairs, you were completely worn out and feeling like your bladder was about to erupt. Still, you made it up the stairs and into the singular bathroom before you could piss yourself, and as you sat on the toilet, you could truly feel how intoxicated you were. You weren’t sure if your mind was spinning from the alcohol, the weed, or the incredible rush that you had felt on the dancefloor. You could feel, however, that you were incredibly sweaty, your hair sticking to your forehead, cheeks and the back of your neck like it was glued to your skin. Though, the wetness at your cunt and spread across your inner thighs was even worse.

You couldn’t believe that you had gotten so wet and turned on from what they had done to you. Even your pathetic excuse for underwear was completely soaked through, your essence thick and visible on the black fabric. The way they had cornered you like that wasn’t something that should have excited you so much, yet here you were, trembling and dripping wet. And now, you were caught up here in this room with Kirishima. Who knows how long it might take Bakugou to get the drinks, since the bar was incredibly busy and it had taken nearly fifteen minutes to get yours earlier.

With a defeated sigh, you wiped and decided to clean yourself up the best you could, even patting your underwear with toilet paper. In the end, the attempt wasn’t very successful, and you almost wanted to rip them back off the instant you pulled them back up to your hips.

After washing your hands and spending a few minutes fixing your hair and wiping your face and neck of sweat, you left the restroom, finding Kirishima standing near the coffee table with the weed pipe in his hands. He gave you a comforting smile as you approached, taking a hit and blowing the smoke away from you. “Feel better, sweetheart?”

“Yes… Uhm… Why did-”

“Want another hit?” Kirishima interrupted you, as if he knew exactly what you were about to ask and wanted to avoid it while he could. “You’re more relaxed now, you’ll get it this time. It’ll calm your nerves, too. You’re trembling like a leaf, babe.”

“I’m… not sure.”

“You don’t want Bakugou to see you all nervous and uptight, do you?”

The tone of his voice instantly made your stomach twist, able to hear the slightest twinge of a threat mixed in with the worried question. Of course you didn’t want Bakugou to see you like this. You had just been so peppy and energetic down on the dancefloor, he would surely be annoyed if you grew so timid all the sudden. So, without a word, you took the pipe and lighter, doing everything you could to ignore the twist at the corner of his lips.

Letting out a trembling breath, you brought the pipe to your lips, able to inhale, hold, and exhale without any urges to cough outside of a slight clearing of your throat. Chuckling, Kirishima took the pipe and lighter from you, setting them down again. “See! Look at you! A natural.”

“It’s stronger this time.”

“Yeah, I cleaned it out and prepped it again while you were in the restroom.” As he spoke, you made your way over to the front of the room, looking out of the glass and down at the bar, scanning for the blonde you had left behind. It didn’t take you long to see him, sitting on a stool as he awaited the delivery of the drinks. Though, you instantly felt heat rush to your fluttering stomach, surprised to see that he was already staring up at you. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could almost feel the icy daggers of his glare on your skin. In fact, your entire body was tingling, your mind growing dull while your body felt like every inch of you was being lightly pricked with needles. It was as if you could feel everything. Your hair tickling the back of your neck. Your dress tight against your chest. Your hot and wet underwear clung tightly against your folds and your clit.

“Find him?” Kirishima nearly startled you enough to make you jump as he came to stand beside you, looking around curiously at all the activity below. “He sticks out like a sore thumb, doesn’t he? Ah, there! He’s already looking up here, too. He’s so into you, babe.”

“He is…?”

“Oh yeah. And I can see why.” One of his large hands came to rest against your lower back, stepping in a bit closer to you. “You’re so cute and timid. Obedient.” His hand began to travel down along the curve of your ass, the slight sting of your welts from earlier making you tense and nibble at your lower lip. “Sexy. It’s hard to keep my hands off you.”

“Katsuki might… get upset if you do anything when he’s not here.” You clutched at the bottom of your dress, trying to keep it down in the front while Kirishima slowly pulled it up from the back.

“Oh you’re right, he might. Then you’d better not do anything to let him notice, hm? He’s watching us, after all.” His hand began to stroke along your ass, groping and squeezing with a firm grip. “Damn, you have a nice ass.”

A small squeak escaped your lips as two if his fingers slipped between your cheeks, rubbing your sex on the outside of your underwear. “Kiri… I’m… I don’t want to without Katsuki here.”

“You sure about that? ‘Cause your wet pussy is telling me otherwise.” With aggressive movements that made you involuntarily take a step closer to the glass, Kirishima moved his hand into your underwear. Without skipping a beat, his middle and ring fingers slid into your wet cunt with ease, forcing a sweet gasp from your lips. “Oh fuck, you’re tight. It’s no wonder Bakugou’s already obsessed after only fucking you once.”

He began to move his fingers in and out of you, slowly dragging along your inner walls, being sure to keep them curved at just the right angle. Each time he dug them into you, he pressed right into your most sensitive areas, making your entire body tingle and soft moans escape your lips. Though, just as you were about to lean forward and stick your ass out for him, he gave a small hiss in warning.

“Don’t move, sweetheart. You want him to notice?” He quickened his pace, as if he were trying to get you to give yourself away. Resting his body against the glass using one arm to prop himself up, he appeared completely casual. Since he was turned slightly towards you, he could use this angle for better leverage, digging his fingers into you faster and deeper. “But it’s not just him. Everyone down there can see us.”

From down below, you were sure that there wasn’t anything suspicious about the two of you, and keeping that facade was completely up to you. Even so, how sensitive your body felt, and the pleasure was already beginning to make your legs weak, so you had to press your hand against the glass to support yourself. Your panting breaths fogged up the clear surface now that you were so close to it, even able to feel your hard nipples rub against the cold. It was so much stimulation so fast that you weren’t sure how long you were going to be able to hold out.

Whining as you bit down on your bottom lip, you clenched your eyes shut tightly, digging your nails against the glass. “Kiri… please… He’ll notice!”

“I wonder what he’ll do, then.” He began to alternate between fingering you and rubbing your clit, nearly crippling what little hold you had left on yourself. “He’d punish you, for sure, but I wonder how? Maybe he’ll spank that pretty ass until you’re crying. Or edge you over and over. Or not give you anything at all.”

“I… please--” A moan cut you off as you began to feel yourself growing closer and closer to your release, placing both of your hands against the glass, now. “Please, I can’t hold it!”

“Going to cum already? Let’s change it up a bit, then.”

For a split second, you thought that he was going to completely stop as he removed his fingers from your aching and trembling cunt. Instead, you were met with a jolt of shock through your core as both of his fingers moved to your asshole, beginning to press into you without any warning. You couldn’t stop your hips from arching back towards his hand, your upper body and forehead firmly against the glass. “K-Kiri-!”

“Ooh, looks like someone like their ass filled up, hm? What a shame Bakugou didn’t play with you here, that little squeak you just made was adorable.” His fingers slid into you up to his knuckles, bending and flexing them apart to make you moan and wiggle. “That’s it, sweetheart. You like your ass fucked?”

“Y-yes,” you forced your eyes open, looking back down at Bakugou through the dark and flashing neon lights. He was still watching you, but there was something else. With the cover of the dark and his hips turned towards the counter, you could see him palming himself between his legs. Could he tell what was happening? Was he really getting off on it? “Kiri… I think he can tell- ah! Fuck!” Your voice cracked as he began to move his fingers within you, moving at an even quicker and more aggressive pace than he had been before.

“He can? Well fuck, sweetheart, that means so can all the other people down there.” Kirishima moved in closer, pressing his lips against your flushed cheek, his smirk wide and eyes gleaming with enjoyment. “Can you feel their eyes on you? Watching you get off on me fingering your ass like the good little slut you are. You like being watched, don’t you?”

“I… I don’t want them all to see me! But Katsuki is… he’s watching…”

“That’s right. He’s watching while I get to play with you. He’s so jealous he can’t help but watch, just waiting for his chance. You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes… Yes, I like him watching me.” Your body began to rock with his movements, the pleasure building back up rapidly. “Just to know that Katsuki wants me so bad… It makes me so hot!” You couldn’t stop your voice as your hips arched further back, trembling legs spreading a bit. “Please! Please let me cum, Kiri! I want to cum while he watches me!”

“Yeah, babe, cum all over my fingers. That’s it.” The encouraging grumble of his voice in your ear and the increased speed of his fingers within you immediately made you lose it, gasping and moaning against the glass as you struggled to stay up on your feet. The waves of pleasure that crashed over you were so intense, much more than you had ever felt just from a little assplay, but you didn’t care to try to rationalize why.

“What a good girl.” Kirishima pressed his lips against your cheek in a playful kiss, removing his fingers and giving your backend a few light smacks. “How about we sit down for a while, hm? You need to relax a bit before Bakugou gets back up here.”

Pushing yourself up off the glass, you didn’t think about looking for Bakugou again before you followed him over towards the couches on weak legs. You could still feel the remnants of your orgasm pulsing through your body, the slickness that you had wiped away in the bathroom once again coating your thighs and further soaking your underwear. His large, rough fingers had felt so good inside you, and although he had allowed you to cum, you were feeling severely unsatisfied and just all around… needy? Was that the right word to use? You wanted them to touch you, to hold and to praise you. But for now, it seemed as if Kirishima was perfectly content to wait a while, leaving you standing by the couches as he flopped to sit, resting back against the armrest with his legs up casually on the cushions.

Nearly immediately, your dizzy gaze landed on the very obvious form of his cock beneath his joggers, reminding you immediately of what he had done to you on the dancefloor. Now that you could see it, your stomach fluttered with curiosity and interest, making you crave to have his cock in your hands. Walking over casually, you ignored his curious look as you took a moment to take off your shoes, before settling onto the couch between his legs. For the first time, you saw his cheeks flush, obviously having not expected you to suddenly be so handsy as you palmed along the hard length of his cock.

“What’s up, sweetheart? Can’t wait?”

“You’re… bigger than Katsuki?”

Your question was met with a chuckle, Kirishima’s grin breaking his face as he allowed you to touch him. “Don’t let him hear you admit that. Not by much, but yeah, sure. Take a look.”

With his permission, you pulled his pants down just enough to allow his cock to spring free, a shocked squeak nearly escaping your throat at the sight of him. It was true, he wasn’t any longer than Bakugou, but his girth was much more impressive. His flushed tip was pierced just as Bakugou’s had been, but he sported a bar through the underside of the blushing head that you recognized as a prince albert. For a moment, you wondered if all the band members had their dicks pierced, but that thought was quickly pushed to the back of your mind as his cock gave an impatient twitch.

Without much consideration of the consequences, you took it into your hands, beginning to lightly pump and spread his precum around the tip and down his shaft. Kirishima gave a relieved sigh at your touch, resting one arm behind his head so he could relax and watch you. “Ah fuck… that’s it, nice and slow. Why don’t you spit on it a little, huh?”

Leaning forward, you passionately rolled your tongue around his tip, before pulling back a bit and allowing your saliva to flow freely, using your hand to spread it down his length. The groan he gave made a smile creep across your lips as you sat back up from him, using both of your hands to stroke his cock with a firmer grip. “How’s that?”

“Incredible. Fuck, babe… Let me see those pretty tits, huh?”

Since your dress had low cut sleeves to begin with, it was easy for you to slip your arms out of them, before pulling the fabric down to expose your breasts to him. Not wearing a bra, they slipped easily from the tight dress, revealing your hard nipples and cute jeweled piercings. Leaning forward a bit closer to him, you continued to stroke his cock with the soft plushness of your chest around him, watching his face closely for any sign of approval. His usually smug or cheerful expression was hazed over with lust, crimson eyes watching your every move. He looked so cute and innocent, just like the man you had always seen on social media, and you loved that you had reduced him back to being his softer self just with a touch and a flash of your tits.

Scooting your hips back a bit and propping yourself up on your knees, you leaned in and took him fully into your mouth, starting with just a sweet tease to his tip before taking him all the way down to the base. Kirishima immediately groaned and tensed beneath you, his large hand coming down to rest on the back of your head, gathering up your hair to keep it out of the way for you. “Oh fuck, damn it! Look at you, taking my cock so well. Such a good girl-”

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening startled you both and you nearly gagged from the sudden pressure Kirishima put on the back of your head. Unable to move and unable to see, all you could do was listen to the booming voice from behind you while you tried to find some room to breathe with the cock down your throat.

“You horny fuckers couldn’t even wait until I got back?” Bakugou’s voice was followed by the sound of the door slamming shut, along with the click of the lock. “I spend all that fucking time down there getting drinks for us and you decide to fool around without me?!”

“Hey man, I didn’t start this! She wanted to suck my dick herself. Oh shit, sorry, sweetheart!” Kirishima released your head as you whined and wiggled to try and get yourself free, allowing you to come up. Coughing, you glowered up at Kirishima as you placed a hand over your throat, spitting the excess saliva that had gathered in your mouth onto his cock in retaliation.

“Oh did she?” Bakugou came up behind you, putting the drinks down on the table before taking a hold of your hair and pulling you back so you were looking up at him. “And what about that little show you put on against the windows? Whose idea was that?”

Your face flushed, stomach bubbling nervously as your fears that he could tell were confirmed. And yet, you only grew hotter, biting down onto your bottom lip as you peered up at him though your lashes. For a moment, you considered lying and saying that you had started it all, just to see what he would do, but the ever honest Kirishima spoke up first.

“I couldn’t help it, man. She has a nice ass. But I didn’t tell her to act all obvious, she just couldn’t control herself.”

“That’s because she’s nothing but a slut.” Still using his grip on your hair, Bakugou forced you back down so that your lips were pressed against the wet tip of Kirishima’s cock, not giving you any other choice but to open your mouth and take him in. Again, your head was forced all the way down to his pelvis, your nose pressing against his skin. As you whined, your eyes began to tear up from the pressure and uncomfortable presence deep in your throat, digging your nails into Kirishima’s hips to try and stop him from shifting beneath you.

Struggling to breathe through your nose, you could feel your dress being pushed up around your hips, Bakugou’s free hand gripping your ass and spreading you open with no regard for the stinging welts he had left earlier that night. “Fuck, what the hell are these? Did you expect to get fucked tonight, baby?” His rough fingers stroked along your lace panties, before pulling them down away from your hips and to your thighs. “Look how fucking wet you are, too. Did that moron make you cum?”

When he released your head, you pulled up slowly, gazing up at Kirishima to watch his flushed face and listen to his groans. Once your lips left him, you didn’t bother to spit or clean up the thick saliva and precum that dribbled from your tongue, using it to instead stroke him firmly with both hands. “Yes, Katsuki,” You choked out through your sore throat, arching your hips further up as Bakugou gripped your ass with both hands, spreading you open to watch your twitching cunt. “He made me cum while you watched. While the whole club could see.”

“Did you like that I was watching?” Bakugou ran his thumb in slow circles against your clit. “Did that get you off, you nasty fuck?”

“Mm, yes-” Your pace quickened, almost hypnotized by the way Kirishima reacted to your touch as Bakugou teased you. “I loved it.”

“And how did he make you cum, huh?” The sound of a zipper and shifting clothing was lost behind his voice and the pounding in your ears. As your lips pressed against the tip of Kirishima’s cock to prepare to take him again, a moan interrupted you, your hips arching back up into Bakugou’s touch as two of his fingers slipped into your wet pussy. “Did he finger your slutty cunt?”

“Yes,” Spurred on by the pleasure, you ran your tongue up and down along Kirishima’s throbbing shaft, your free hand pushing his joggers further down out of the way so you could cup and massage his balls. Kirishima gave a grunt, reaching down to dig his fingers into your hair again.

“C’mon, sweetheart, tell him the truth.”

“The truth? Tch, I bet I know what he did.” Removing his fingers from within you, they both slid up to your asshole, sinking in with ease and making your entire body shudder with a moan. “Your ass, huh? I should have fucking known. Fine, then.” Shifting his hips closer, you could feel the presence of his cock between your cheeks when he removed his hand, gripping your hips instead. “Let me fill up this slutty little hole for you.”

Before you could truly ground yourself, the tip of his thick cock slipped into your asshole with just as much ease as his fingers, forcing a sharp gasp from your lips. Biting down onto your bottom lip as he sunk in inch by inch, you buried your face into Kirishima’s pelvis, your entire body trembling. Just as before, his size was more than you had ever taken before in either hole, and he left you feeling full and breathless.

“K-Katsuki--!”

“That’s right, babygirl. Moan my fucking name.” With a rough snap of his hips to start his quick pace, you cried out against Kirishima’s skin, your hand leaving his cock to instead dig your nails into his toned stomach. “How’s my fat cock feel, huh? Stretching your tight asshole-- ah fuck, baby!” As you constricted around him in response to the pleasure and his filthy mouth, he only fucked you faster and harder, his balls slapping against your clit and sending jolts of hot white pleasure through your body.

For a while, you were completely engrossed in the feeling of his cock inside you, until a smack of Kirishima’s cock to your cheek reminded you that he was still here, too. Although it was nearly impossible for you to hold back your voice, you sat up and took his cock into your mouth again, using the pleasure to push yourself harder to please him more aggressively.

“Ah shit! Damn!” Kirishima once again gripped onto your head, but with both hands this time. “Wait, wait! Hold still-” Using his grip on your head, he shifted his legs a bit, using new leverage to begin thrusting his hips up to fuck your mouth at his own pace. Completely at their mercy, you supported yourself with your arms against the couch, your eyes once again tearing up from the rough throat fucking and pleasure abusing your mind. The moans and filthy, lewd wet noises that came from your mouth were uncontrollable, as was the saliva and tears that coated Kirishima’s cock.

It was painful.

It was hot.

It was an absolute dream.

And yet, you wanted more. You wanted these men to completely destroy you, to leave you as nothing but a twitching mess leaking their cum.

“Want to swallow my cum, sweetheart?”

With Kirishima’s question, you found the chance to try and get your way, giving a miniscule shake of your head as you reached up to try and push his hands off you. Bakugou scoffed, not letting up on his pace.

“The fuck? Just cum, don’t ask her-”

“Shut up, man, she’s trying to say something,” Allowing you up off his cock, you took a moment to cough, which was difficult behind your urge to moan and gasp in air.

“I want both of your cocks inside me!” You finally choked out when you had a chance, gazing up at Kirishima with your flushed, teary and begging expression. “Please fill me up with both of your cocks! I need them!” A squeak escaped your lips as Bakugou grabbed you by the arms, pulling you up against his chest as his hand wrapped around your neck.

“Beg harder,” He growled in your ear, one hand gripping your breast as he fucked you harder. For a moment, your mind went blank with the pleasure, unsure of what you had even wanted outside of Bakugou’s dick buried so deep inside of you. The pleasure in your core was near cracking, and as you looked down at Kirishima to see him pumping his own cock at the sight of you being ruined, it only spiked higher.

“I want you to both fuck me! Please! Please, Katsuki, I’m begging you! I-- aah, fuck! Fuck!” Leaning your head back, it wasn’t another second before you came hard, your body tensing in his grip and rocking back against his hips as they also came to a stop from how hard you squeezed around him. Giving a low growl in satisfaction, Bakugou held your body tightly back against him, digging his cock as deep into you as he could get with a light bucking of his hips.

“Oh fuck, babygirl, that’s it. Such a naughty bitch, cumming from being fucked in the ass like that. And you still want more, huh?” Bakugou spoke low in your ear, and although you were beyond high on the release, you found it within yourself to nod.

Smirking against your cheek, Bakugou removed his cock from you. “Fine then.” While you were still trying to regain control of your dizzy mind, he gave you a rough nudge, forcing your weak and trembling body to fall forward onto Kirishima. The redhead caught you by the arms to help you steady yourself, giving an annoyed huff as he guided you up to straddle his hips.

“Watch it, man! She could have crushed my dick, then I’d be outta luck!”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m sick of waiting, if you don’t get a move on, I’m kicking your fucking ass out of here.”

“Boys, boys.” You pushed yourself up on your arms so you were balanced on all fours, smiling down at Kirishima through your lustful haze. “There’s no need to argue.” Reaching down between your bodies, you took hold of Kirishima’s cock, holding it steady as you ran your dripping wet sex along it, teasing your sensitive clit. “I’m here for you both to use me. As much as you want.” Looking back over your shoulder, you caught Bakugou’s glare, though it quickly flicked back down to your hips as you began to lower yourself down onto Kirishima’s cock, letting him slip into your pussy slowly. “You like watching, Katsuki?”

Bakugou scoffed, his face flushing. “You’d better fucking watch it, whore. Don’t forget who owns your stupid ass.”

“But I love it when you watch me,” You let out an airy moan as Kirishima filled you up all the way to the base, not leaving a single inch of you untouched. “Just to know that I turn you on so much without even having to touch you. Even if it’s another man… Even if it’s Kiri’s fat cock inside me. It makes me so happy, Katsuki.” Steading yourself with your hands against Kirishima’s stomach, you began to roll your hips, sighing and cursing softly from the pleasure. “Fuck, so big! Both of your cocks are so big and perfect!”

As Kirishima gripped onto your hips tightly, he was immediately taken over by the euphoria he felt being buried so deep within your wet pussy, using his strength to guide your body to start bouncing on his cock instead. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck, your pussy is so tight!” It wasn’t another few seconds before he couldn’t resist thrusting his hips up into you, holding you steady as he ravaged your wet and clenching cunt at his own pace. He was hard and rough, slamming into you like a man starved, desperate for the pleasure and release he craved. “You’re such a perfect little slut.”

Now forced to lean forward, weak arms propping you up on either side of his body, you allowed him to fuck you as he wished, each slam of his tip against your cervix blurring your vision with white sparks of pleasure. The way his thick cock filled you up and his piercing rubbed against your inner walls was building up your pleasure so rapidly that your body became completely weak, arms collapsing under you until you were laying on his chest. Somehow, you found the mental focus to look over your shoulder, your body flushing hotter at the sight of Bakugou eagerly pumping his own cock, his glare locked on the way that Kirishima was using you.

“Ka- Katsuki,” You choked out through your moans, doing everything you could to keep hold of your mind for just a moment longer. “Please watch me while I cum! Please! A-ah! Kiri, w-wait, I--!” As the redhead grew rougher with you, there wasn’t anything you could do to hold back the pleasure any longer, and your orgasm ripped through your body like a spark of lightning, making your entire body tense and tremble. “Fuck! Fucking hell, that fat cock is so fucking good!”

“Damn right it is, sweetheart.” Kirishima landed a hard smack to your currently unmarked asscheek. “You like being fucked by big cocks?”

“Yes… I’ve never had cocks like this though…” You turned your face more into the skin of his chest, ignoring the sweat and drool. “Both of you… So perfect…”

“We aren’t even done with you yet, sweetheart.” Taking hold of your ass in both hands, Kirishima spread you open, addressing the blond that still sat behind you, who was oddly quiet and patient. “C’mon, man. Let’s give her what she really wants.”

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at the fact that Kirishima was holding your cheeks apart, your pussy still stuffed with his cock and your asshole twitching in anticipation. Looking over your shoulder again, you caught Bakugou’s gaze, the pleading expression in your eyes instantly bringing a wicked and excited smirk to his lips. That initial embarrassment spiked, holding your breath as Bakugou came in closer, taking over the task of holding your ass open.

The tip of his cock, hot and blushing with the need for his own release, teased your tight, unoccupied hole, the feeling of his frenum piercing rolling across your skin bringing a whimper from your throat. You wanted it so much that it was nearly painful to have to wait like this. You felt powerless in the situation, only able to wait for them to decide to begin, and the anticipation was making your stomach flutter and roll. The butterflies escaped your lips with the sound of a small plea, barely audible even by you, but Bakugou was quick to take notice.

“What’s that, babygirl?”

“P-please…” You pushed the word out with your strangled breath, still watching him from over your shoulder. “Please don’t make me keep waiting!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as his thumb rolled over the waiting hole, teasingly dipping it in to the first knuckle. “Mm... Katsuki--” A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he landed a rough spank to your already bruised and abused cheek from earlier that night in the dressing room, the spike of pain making your body tense. Kirishima groaned and wiggled beneath you, his hips bucking lightly impatiently as your core squeezed tightly around him in reaction to the pain.

“Aah fuck! Shit, sweetheart, don’t squeeze so tight like that, it’s hard enough not to fuck your brains out right now.”

“What’s the matter? She’s too tight for ya?” Bakugou landed another hard, full palmed smack to your ass, forcing a sharp moan from your lips and your tensing body bringing Kirishima into another series of squirming. “I’m surprised you’re still in this, you’re usually a two-pump chump!” Then, the instant your body calmed, he shoved his entire length into you in one fell swoop, his hips meeting with the red plushness of your ass. “Fuck… How can she be such a perfect little slut?”

The sudden feeling of being so full knocked all the air out of your lungs, your back arching to try to accommodate them both, digging your nails into the fabric of the couch. Your mind was so overwhelmed with the pressure that you could barely hear Kirishima snapping back at Bakugou for the insult he had given him, only hearing the sound of his voice without comprehending words. They were both buried so deep inside you that you worried you might split apart if they started moving, and with that realization, another came to the front of your dizzy mind.

You’ve never had two dicks inside you at the same time.

Never.

With how excited and desperate you had been for it, the men must have assumed that you had and weren’t going to go easy on you. You wanted to speak, to say anything to tell them the truth, but you found it nearly impossible to pull enough air into your lungs to speak. They were about to absolutely ruin you, and you wondered in that moment if you’d be able to take it, or if you’d beg for mercy with the first thrust.

It was Kirishima who moved first, thrusting his hips upwards slow and shallow, forcing a cry from your throat and your eyes to clench shut, hiding in his chest. “Shh, sweetheart, we got you.” Since Bakugou was holding onto your hips, Kirishima’s hands were free to caress you, one on your side and the other on the back of your head. With his tender touch, however, came longer strokes of his cock inside you, the overwhelming presence pushing tears from behind your closed eyelids. “Just breathe.”

Bakugou, however, was not as merciful. He picked up on Kirishima’s rhythm, pulling himself all the way out to the tip before plunging back into your tense and constricting asshole. Bakugou hissed, digging his fingers into your plush hips, his blunt nails stinging your skin. “Fucking hell, babygirl, you’re just sucking me right in. Damn-!” A groan escaped him as he picked up his pace, your body starting to rock between them as the skin of his pelvis slapped against your red and abused cheeks.

“A-ah, Katsuki-!” You nearly screamed out in shock, though your face was still buried into Kirishima’s chest. “Not so fast! Please!”

“Oh no, babe. You begged for this. We’re giving you exactly what you asked for.”

As if picking up on a cue, Kirishima also increased his pace, until they were both thrusting into you as deep as they could possibly get, hard and fast. Though, with their increased pace came a new feeling washing over you, pushing past the dull, uncomfortable pain. They were filling up every inch of you, caressing you and staying as perfectly in sync as they could, doing everything they could to pleasure you. And that was all you could feel.

The pleasure.

It pulsed through every inch of you like shockwaves, sending it rocketing up your body and down your limbs. There was no other word that you could think of to describe it besides “perfect”, and you knew that there would never be another set of men in your entire life that could make you feel this way. That could use you like this, making you feel so vulnerable yet adored at the same time. No matter the reason, these two men who you loved dearly, wanted you.

And damn, you were happy.

“Fuck, yes-!” You finally choked out, finding a smidgen of strength to allow you to prop yourself up on your elbows. Still, your head hung slack, your tear-filled eyes rolled up and mouth open with unending moans. “Your cocks feel so good inside me!”

“There she is,” Deep groan reverberating in his chest from your encouragement, Bakugou increased his place, giving you another firm slap on the ass. “That’s right, you slut. Now tell me who you belong to.”

“You! You, Katsuki-!”

“-And?”

“-Kiri! I belong to both of you! I’m your little slut, please do whatever you want with me! Just please don’t stop, I want to feel your cum inside me!”

If you were honest, you weren’t sure how long they ravaged you like this. You came again, before your body was just too overly stimulated, and all you could do was lay there against Kirishima’s chest, moaning and trembling constantly. There wasn’t a rational or clear thought in your head, only able to focus on their dicks inside you, and their increasingly loud moans and grunts.

They were getting close.

“Fucking shit-” Bakugou was barely able to get the curse out before his hips began to shutter, his thrusts becoming erratic and shallow until he released inside of you, the hot feeling of his cum pulling you back into full consciousness. You peeked at him over your shoulder the best you could through your wild hair, finding his flushed, sweaty, and satisfied image endearing. You felt so empty with his exit, but you didn’t have much time to focus on that, as Kirishima immediately scooped you up and flipped you both over so you were beneath him.

Smirk on his lips, he bent your legs back up to your chest, his pace and depth only increasing and sending you into another round of incoherent moans.

“That’s it, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty face when I fill you up with my cum.”

Clutching onto his arms tightly, your nails dug into his biceps as your eyes stayed locked on the way his hips moved, almost hypnotized by the sight of his cock slamming in and out of your abused cunt. The veiny girth that was absolutely coated in your slick found no resistance, and with this new visual paired with the feeling of rapid dragging along your clenching walls, you could feel another orgasm peaking fast. “K-Kiri-!”

“Going to cum on my fat cock again, huh? Go on- Ah, oh fuck-!” A hiss escaped through his teeth as you came, your entire body quivering, cunt clenching around him and head leaning back. Your moans hitched and shook uncontrollably, unsure of exactly how loud you were as your mind fogged over with the endless waves of pleasure paired with the new heat that flooded your core with Kirishima’s release. The redhead that pinned you down was rough with his release, his hips rutting against yours with sharp snaps and deep grinding, which only prolonged your release until you were nothing but a limp, trembling mess.

“Look at you. You’re so damn pretty.” Kirishima’s voice barely registered in your mind, as did the clicking sound of a phone taking pictures. “Bakugou, come hold her legs back.”

Your teary gaze landed on Bakugou as he came to stand near your head, taking your calves into his hands and pulling them back so you were further contorted. With the movement, Kirishima removed his cock from within you, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, though the heat of his cum leaking out of you was very noticeable. With a whine as your knees were pressed on either side of your head, you weakly gripped onto Bakugou’s hands, looking up at him with exhausted, innocent curiosity. Fluffy blonde hair stuck to his face that was coated with sweat, Bakugou smirked down at you, glancing over every inch of your body.

“Fuck babygirl, you should see yourself. You’re a mess.”

You swallowed hard against your dry and aching throat, smiling softly as your hand traveled up and down his forearm tenderly. “All… all for you.” The sound of the phone's camera going off finally got your attention and you looked at Kirishima instead, your stomach fluttering nervously at the sight of him snapping pictures of your body. “P-pictures…?”

“I’ve never seen a pussy this pretty, sweetheart. And it’s just dripping with my jizz… Your ass is, too, with your cheeks all fucking red from Bakugou spanking you. You’re a damn masterpiece, baby. I should have recorded this whole thing.” Obviously filming now, Kirishima ran his thumb from your asshole up along your cunt and to your clit, dragging the mess of cum with him. After a few teasing rolls of your clit, he brought his thumb up to your mouth, not even having to say a word before you opened wide to suck the digit clean. “Damn that’s hot.”

“Save that recording shit for later. There will be plenty to shoot back at the hotel. Right, babygirl?” Bakugou released your legs, allowing you to close them and rest them comfortably to the side. Once your mouth was free of Kirishima’s fingers, you licked your lips, eyes locked on your celebrity crush as he gazed down at you expectantly.

Any rational thought that should have peaked in your mind was smothered by a screaming need to stay with him, to do whatever he wanted just so that you could be in his presence for as long as possible. Before you knew it, you were up on trembling knees, turning to face him and timidly clutching on tightly to the front of his shirt. “Yes, Katsuki. Anything you want.”

“That’s right,” Bakugou pulled you in closer, latching his arms around your torso and kissing you with a gentle passion that sent your heart racing. “You’ll do anything for me.”

“And for me.” Kirishima came up to press himself against your back, his hands tightly on your hips as he kissed your cheek playfully. You couldn’t resist a soft giggle from escaping your lips, both of your arms wrapping around Bakugou’s torso tightly.

“Mm, yes! Anything for both of you-”

KNOCK KNOCK

“Hey, are you three done in there yet!? Hurry up! We have girls and more drinks, and I have to piss!”

“The couches better still be clean!”

Kirishima chuckled, releasing you with a final pat to your backside before hopping up and fixing his clothes back into proper place. “Shit, sorry, just a sec!”

Bakugou, however, didn’t bother responding to them, kissing you again tenderly while pulling your dress back down to cover your hips. “I hope you’re ready, babygirl.”

“For what?”

“The afterparty is just getting started. I hope that partying with your favorite band will be everything you ever dreamed of.”

“As long as I get to be close to you, Katsuki, I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

“That’s my good girl.”

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today-only-happens-once · 4 years ago

Text

out of focus

title: out of focus

word count: 3955

summary:

The actions of a Fire Nation admiral during a meeting causes some problems for Sokka. The words of that admiral causes some problems for Zuko. They try to take care of each other.

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?”

Zuko freezes, the rag half-out of the bowl and his other hand still bracing Sokka’s (not quite holding it… far too gentle to be holding it). “What—uh. I, uh.” Zuko stops. Takes a breath. Tries again. He still doesn’t look up at Sokka. “When I was younger, I spoke out at a meeting.”

Warnings: burns (description of), violence, threats of violence, discussion of canonical child abuse, characters curse but no curse words are written, character is non-permanently injured, yelling/arguing, trauma

A/N: me? writing a zukka AtLA fic and posting it an hour short of midnight? Apparently, it’s more likely that you’d think.

Read on AO3

Zuko has the patience of a saint, Sokka thinks to himself.

It’s an unusual thought, he realizes. A year ago, if you’d told Sokka that he’d come to think of the Banished Prince as ‘patient’, he’d probably have thrown his boomerang at you. A year ago, Zuko was one of the most short-tempered people he knew. A year ago, Zuko was the face of the enemy.

A lot changes in a year.

Sokka barely stifles a frustrated sigh. The attempt does not seem to go unnoticed by Zuko, who glances at him quickly before the corner of his mouth twitches with something like amusement. The meeting had been going on for hours, and Sokka can’t help but feel that very little progress on the treaty had been made. It wasn’t for lack of trying, Sokka knows, but war leaves messy problems in its wake. He knows that both the literal and metaphorical shrapnel left behind by a century of conflict can’t be swept away in a night or a week or a month.

It doesn’t make these meetings any easier to sit through.

“I want immediate release of all prisoners of war,” an Earth Kingdom ambassador demands.

“I second that,” Sokka hears his father--sitting across the table from him--add, a bit more calmly but no less firm. “I have men in those prisons that haven’t seen their family in a decade.”

“Of course,” Zuko replies at the same time a Fire Nation soldier snaps, “absolutely not.”

Zuko levels a hard look at him. “Admiral, people who were arrested as prisoners of war have no need to remain so after the war has ended.” He looks to Hakoda, then to the Earth Kingdom ambassador. “I’ll draft that mandate tonight and will ensure it’s circulation as soon as possible.”

“This is an outrage!” The slam of a fist against the table makes Sokka’s hand fly to the boomerang strapped to his hip instinctively. The admiral is on his feet.

“Admiral,” Zuko says, his voice steely as he rises from his own chair. The Fire Nation soldier cuts him off.

“Where is the justice for the Fire Nation families whose sons and daughters were slaughtered by those criminals?”

“Admiral--”

“I remember a time when you cared about Fire Nation soldiers! And it’s hard to believe you’ve forgotten, seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror--”

“Enough!” Zuko snaps. “You will watch your tongue or you will be escorted out. You approach insubordination.”

“You are a child,” the admiral sneers. “Though one that ought to know a thing or two about insubordination, given your father’s attempts to brand you with a permanent reminder of its consequences--”

“Warriors!”

“Then again, he always was twice the leader you will never be. Long live the Phoenix King!”

Sokka sees the warning signs—the slight shift of weight, the clench of the man’s fists—and leaps to his feet. “Zuko--!”

“Sokka!”

There’s a blinding light and scorching heat. Sokka feels something slam onto his shoulder and he dives instinctively for cover as the familiar roar of a fireball explodes in front of him. The flames are bright and lick around him, and Sokka throws a hand up to protect his face. He blinks the spots from his vision as he yanks his boomerang out of his belt.

Zuko is standing beside him, his stance ready and his hand outstretched, having evidently dispelled the fireball that had been launched at him. Sokka leaps back up to his feet and hurls the boomerang in his hands towards the Admiral, hitting his hand right as he moves to launch another attack and forcing it to go wide. A burst of flames slam against the wall to the left.

The room is in chaos.

Sokka barely hears the shouts of alarm and curses over the roar of dying flames. He sees his father, already on his feet, diving underneath a bolt of red fire. Across the room, the Earth Kingdom ambassador jerks their hand. There’s a rumble in the ground before it rises and anchors around the Admiral’s feet, holding him in place.

Sokka sees the admiral’s gaze meet his own and narrow. The Fire Nation soldier bares his teeth in a snarl, his fist shooting out. Before Sokka can blink, Zuko steps in front of him, dispelling the flames just as the door ricochets open. Two Kyoshi Warriors flood in and in a series of quick strikes, the admiral drops. Awake, but limp.

Sokka thinks idly that he’s grateful that Ty Lee taught them how to block chi.

“Your father should have killed you that day!” the admiral shouts as he’s dragged through the doors. “He showed mercy on your pathetic, worthless—” the door slamming shut cuts him off.

The silence that follows makes Sokka’s ears ring. He can still feel stale adrenaline coursing through him, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. For a moment, nobody moves. Zuko awkwardly clears his throat.

“Apologies for the, uh, disruption. It shouldn’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Firelord Zuko,” Hakoda assures him, but there’s something odd in his father’s expression when he looks at Zuko that Sokka doesn’t understand.

Zuko says something in response, but Sokka doesn’t catch it. As the adrenaline bleeds out of him, his muscles relaxing, Sokka realizes that his fists are still clenched. Sokka forces them to relax, and hisses as it sends a jolt of hot pain through his left hand. When he looks down, he realizes that the skin on the top of part of his hand near his knuckles is a blistering, angry red.

Sokka’s hiss doesn’t go unnoticed. Zuko looks at him over his shoulder, his brows drawn together in confusion before his eyes fall to Sokka’s hand. Then, they go wide.

Zuko turns back around suddenly to address the room, his back straighter. “We will adjourn the meeting for the afternoon. We will reconvene tomorrow.”

“Firelord Zuko—” an ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe protests, but Hakoda interrupts him.

“I think we could all use a breather, Kovrik. Coming back tomorrow with a clear head is a good decision.”

“Yes… yes, I suppose that’s fair.”

Sokka is finding it increasingly difficult to follow the conversation. His hand hurts, and it’s taking every last drop of his willpower and pride to grit his teeth and swallow back the whimper that wants to push up his throat. It’s not until Zuko’s face is taking up his entire field of vision that Sokka realizes everyone but the two of them and his father have left the room.

“Let me see,” Zuko says quietly, then curses under his breath when he looks at Sokka’s hand. “Where’s Katara when you need her.”

“Do you have anything that can help?” Hakoda asks from behind Zuko.

“Yes, sir,” Zuko replies, his brows still furrowed in concentration. “Though it’s not quite as immediate as waterbending healers. But it should help with the pain, and prevent infection. Follow me.”

Sokka feels Zuko take his elbow and guide him out the door of the meeting room and down the hall. He’s distantly aware that Zuko is moving quickly—not quite a jog, but only barely shy of it—through a network of corridors. His hand feels like it might still be on fire, and Sokka looks down at it again just to be sure that’s not actually the case. He tells himself that he’s endured injuries more painful than this. The broken leg was worse, he thinks, though it does little to actually help with the burning sensation in his hand.

He’s vaguely aware that Zuko says something quickly to two guards that are flanking a set of doors before he rushes in. Sokka looks up and realizes it’s Zuko’s chambers. He’d only been in here a couple of times before, largely while Zuko was still recovering from Azula’s lightning strike in the weeks following the end of the war.

“Wait here,” Zuko tells him before disappearing through another door on the far side of the room.

“You had good reflexes in there,” Sokka hears his father’s low, soothing voice speak up. He’d had almost forgotten he was there. Hakoda moves the chair that had been beside the bed closer to Sokka in a clear direction to sit down.

“Lots of practice,” Sokka replies as he sits. He hisses a little again as his hand flares and grits out a swear behind clenched teeth.

“Easy,” Hakoda says softly. He places a bracing, comforting hand between Sokka’s shoulder blades. It’s grounding, and he’s grateful.

“Wish Katara was here,” Sokka tells him, echoing Zuko’s comment from earlier.

“I know. Unfortunately, I don’t think she’s coming to Caldera for a while. She’s still in Ba Sing Se with Aang.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Her magic water comes in handy though.” Sokka gives his father a tight smile. “Get it? Hand-y?”

Hakoda snorts just as the door opens again. Zuko has his arms full of a large bowl, his hands fisting a few vials and some bandages. There’s something pinched about Zuko’s expression, and the way he doesn’t meet Sokka’s eyes as he kneels in front of him feels odd. The bowl is full of water, Sokka realizes, as he sets it on the ground and begins to empty the vials into it.

“Can I see your hand?” Zuko asks, and the question—for some reason—catches him off guard.

Sokka blinks. “Yeah. Sure.” He grimaces as he places his hand in Zuko’s, but the excessive gentleness surprises him so much that Sokka almost forgets that his hand hurts.

Zuko was many things, but Sokka can’t remember a time—even after he started to get along with the Fire Prince—that he would have described Zuko as gentle. But his grip on Sokka’s hand is careful. Almost excessively so.

Zuko hums in the back of his throat as he inspects the burns. “I don’t think it’ll have permanent damage,” he says quietly. “But I still need to treat it so it doesn’t get infected. It… might hurt, a little. But then it should feel better.”

“No permanent damage. That’s good,” Sokka says. He swallows, and nods. “Okay.”

For a long moment, the only sounds that fills the room is the quiet splash of water in the bowl as Zuko submerges the cloth rag again and wrings it out. Sokka lets his gaze float around the room.

Zuko has left it mostly bare. There’s a portrait of Iroh and a woman that Sokka remembers being the Fire Lady—Zuko’s mother—hanging on the wall near the headboard of the bed. On the dresser beside it is a drawing that Sokka did of the group of them months ago. He sees a pile of papers on the desk across the room. He thinks one of them has Aang’s signature at the bottom, but it’s too far away for him to know for sure.

Bright, painful heat searing his hand slams his attention back to Zuko in front of him and Sokka yelps, yanking his hand away. Zuko grimaces, retracing his own hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding more earnest than Sokka expects. “This part is painful, but it’ll stop hurting in a minute.”

Sokka fights to pull his breathing back under his control. In through his nose, out through his mouth. “Right,” he manages, his voice tight. “Right, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know it hurts.”

Something about that line—and about the fact that Zuko still hasn’t met his eyes since returning from the other room—drags Sokka’s thoughts back to the conversation in the treaty meeting. There were several things that the admiral had said to Zuko that Sokka didn’t quite understand. He could only remember pieces of things said, but they repeat in Sokka’s head like disjointed pieces of a puzzle that he can’t quite make fit together.

seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror… insubordination… your father’s attempts to brand you… consequences…

Sokka’s gaze falls back to Zuko, dutifully bowed in front of him. There had long been pieces about Zuko that Sokka had found puzzling. Things about him that didn’t quite fit together. Sokka considers himself a person pretty good at figuring out how things worked together, and that extended (with less success) to figuring out how parts of people make up the sum of their whole.

Zuko, though… Zuko had always been something of a mystery. But as the words of the admiral ricochet in his mind, there’s a picture beginning to come together that is still just a little too hazy, a little too out of focus, to fill in the spaces that Sokka felt were missing.

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?”

Sokka’s brow furrows as Zuko presses the rag to the back of his hand again. Sokka realizes that his hand has stopped hurting, but he’s too preoccupied with what Zuko said to pay it much mind. “After the stuff at Ba Sing Se? When you went home?”

“No, I, uh.” Zuko clears his throat. “Before that. Before… yeah. Earlier.”

Your father’s attempts to brand you…

“What happened?” Sokka asks. The way Zuko’s shoulders seem to tense doesn’t escape his attention, and there’s a part of him that wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have asked. But it also feels like a question that once asked, is too late to take back.

Zuko pats Sokka’s hand dry with another towel and begins to gingerly wrap a bandage around it. He keeps his gold gaze steady on the work. Sokka keeps his gaze steady on Zuko.

“My uncle allowed me to attend a war meeting where they were talking about some battle strategies to use against an Earth Kingdom battalion. There was a general that wanted our newest fleet to serve as a distraction while we mounted an attack from the rear,” Zuko begins. There’s something off about his voice, though. Something detached and careful. He keeps wrapping the bandage. Around and around and around.

Sokka frowns. “That’s not fair,” he says. “Your newest recruits? They’d be slaughtered by an experienced battalion like that.”

Zuko sighs, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Exactly,” he says in a low voice. “And that’s what I told them. I wasn’t thinking. I just… yelled at him.” Sokka opens his mouth to disagree—it sounds like Zuko was thinking, unlike anybody else at that meeting—but Zuko cuts him off as he secures the end of the bandage to Sokka’s palm. “My father didn’t… take it well. I was challenged to an Agni Kai, and I thought I would be facing the general in it, so I accepted.”

Zuko gathers the bowl and empty vials as he stands, crossing the room to set them on the edge of his desk. Sokka stands up slowly as Zuko does so. The pieces that had been out of focus for so long are starting to come together, and Sokka feels his stomach rolling with a leaden weight against what he can sense is coming.

“No…”

“It wasn’t the general,” Zuko continues, his voice so quiet that Sokka is sure he would have missed it if it hadn’t been dead silence around them. “It was my father.”

“You faced your father in an Agni Kai?”

“Not exactly. I…” Zuko stares down into the bowl of water beside him, his gaze distant. “I couldn’t fight my own father. Instead, I begged him for forgiveness. I was met with a fistful of flames.”

Zuko gestures vaguely at his face, and Sokka’s blood turns to ice.

“He…” Sokka’s throat closes, cutting off the rest of that sentence. All this time being chased by Zuko—all this time being friends with him—and he’d always assumed that the scar was the result of a training accident, or a fight with a firebender he lost. Sokka thinks bitterly and viciously that the second assumption wasn’t far off but his own father—

“I was banished after that,” Zuko says, and his voice is hollow and empty and wrong. And he finally, finally, meets Sokka’s gaze. “I was told to bring the Avatar back and all would be forgiven, or to not come back at all. That was before you and your sister woke Aang up from the iceberg.”

Sokka stands very, very still. He glances down and realizes his hands are trembling. He curls the non-bandaged one into a fist to get the shaking to stop. “How old were you?” he asks, and he doesn’t know why—of everything he could say—that’s the question that tumbles past his lips, but he feels like it matters.

“Thirteen.”

“Thir—” Sokka cuts himself off, scrubbing a hand across his mouth and swallowing hard. “Thirteen. Tui and La, when I was thirteen—”

Sokka breaks off again, his throat closing, his gaze falling to his father. When Sokka was thirteen, his father had left to go fight in the war and told Sokka he couldn’t come along. He’d protected Sokka, and though Sokka had found his way into fighting in the war regardless a few years later, he knows his father had only been trying to keep him safe. The idea of his own father striking him—let alone with a fist full of flames to his face—was incomprehensible.

Hakoda doesn’t look back at Sokka. His gaze is trained on Zuko, and there’s something in his eyes that Sokka doesn’t quite understand. But he’s seen it before. It was the same look Hakoda wears when he hears other water tribe soldiers recount war stories. The late-night ones. The ones where their voices betray the weight on their shoulders and tremble with the generations of nightmares on their backs.

Sokka takes a sudden, faltering step forward, and Zuko instinctively tenses. Sokka freezes. “Zuko…”

Zuko shakes his head. He coughs a little, as if trying to clear his throat. “Anyway. That’s—that’s what the admiral was talking about.”

“You…” Sokka tries again, his voice carrying just the barest hints of hysteria. “You were his kid.”

“Yeah, well.” Zuko’s gaze meets Sokka’s again. “He spent most of my life wishing I wasn’t.”

“Zuko,” Hakoda speaks up, his voice a low, soothing rumble to Sokka’s trembling nerves. “I… hope you understand that you didn’t deserve that.”

“I know, sir,” he replies, sounding steadier than Sokka feels. Sokka feels a little like the ground has shifted beneath his feet as he stares at his friend across the room. Zuko continues, frustratingly calm. “It… I didn’t at first. It took me a long time to understand that it was wrong of my father to do that. But I know now.”

“Where is he?” Sokka demands, flushing with a sudden and intense fury.

Zuko blinks, looking taken aback by the vehemence charged through Sokka’s voice like a steel rod. “Where’s who?”

“Ozai.”

“Sokka, what are you gonna do? Fight him? He already lost.”

“Against Aang, not against—did Aang even know?”

Zuko’s brow furrows and he rubs the back of his neck. “Um. I guess I don’t know. I never told him. I… never told any of you.”

“Yeah—and what’s that about, huh?” Sokka demands. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Sokka,” Hakoda warns, but Sokka’s words are already bubbling up throat and spilling past his lips, hot and bitter and angry.

“What, did you think we wouldn’t care? That it wouldn’t matter?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Zuko waves a hand towards the window that overlooks the courtyard. “My father already lost to the Avatar, Sokka. The war is over. The fighting is over. Aang took his bending. And that—I don’t know about you, but that’s the best, most justified end to his legacy I can think of.”

Sokka is still shaking. He can’t explain why. He knows, logically, that Zuko is right. He’s right. But Sokka can still feel his hands shaking, can still feel his heart hammering in his ribs with the urge to run something through with sword, can still feel the way his eyes sting with tears he won’t let fall. Sokka clenches his jaw and rips his gaze away from Zuko out towards the window, where he can see the sun setting on the horizon and painting the palace courtyard in an orange light.

“Wherever he is, I hope he rots,” Sokka says finally, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough. “He deserves worse.”

Sokka looks back at Zuko, whose gaze is a little wide. He looks… taken aback. Sokka cocks an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you disagree—"

“No,” Zuko replies, shaking his head. “I just… Nothing.” The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in the barest hint of a smile. Sokka doesn’t understand why, just like he doesn’t understand why it uncoils the tight knot of burning anger in his chest.

Sokka takes a deep breath. Wills himself to relax. It helps… a little. There’s a beat, and then Sokka hears his father take a step forward. “Thank you for helping Sokka’s hand, Firelord Zuko.”

Zuko blinks, and Sokka swears his cheeks take a faint pink tint as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. Uh, of course, sir. And… just Zuko is fine.”

Sokka glances over and sees Hakoda smile, inclining his head. “Understood.” He looks to Sokka. “I should draft a letter to Bato tonight to update him on the treaty. Will you be okay without me?”

Sokka rolls his eyes teasingly. “Yeah, dad. I think I can manage.”

Hakoda squeezes his shoulder, nods to Zuko again, and quietly slips out of the room. The silence afterward seems to stretch, and Sokka feels the lingering tension bleeding out of him as he looks at Zuko, who quietly shuffles through the papers on his desk. Sokka watches him for a beat, his gaze lingering a little on the scarred tissue across his face. Sokka swallows.

There are other questions Sokka thinks he could ask. Like why—after doing that—Zuko was still so bent on returning home to his father. But there’s a part of Sokka that thinks he maybe understands.

Spirits know that he understood what it was like to crave the approval of your father.

“Hey,” he says, and Zuko’s gaze snaps over to him. “I… thank you for telling me. I… know that wasn’t easy, and… it means a lot that you trust me with that.”

“It… it wasn’t a question of trust, you know,” Zuko replies quietly, averting his gaze. “Not telling you, I mean. It was just—”

“I know,” Sokka says, and means it. “But I also know what it’s like to have things you don’t necessarily… want to relive. So it means a lot that you told me.”

The corner of Zuko’s mouth twitches again. He takes a deep, slow breath. “Thank you for listening,” he says.

“I like to think I’m a pretty good listener,” Sokka teases, shrugging.

“You are,” Zuko says, with far more sincerity than Sokka felt was warranted for what he’d meant to be a joke. Sokka blinks at him, and Zuko clears his throat, ducking his head a little. “I was thinking of getting some tea. There’s a place just outside the palace. It’s not as good as Uncle’s, but um. Did you want to come?”

“Yeah,” Sokka replies with a small smile. “I could use a cup of tea.”

#avatar the last airbender #zukka #zukka fanfiction #zuko fanfiction #zuko #sokka #not ts #we interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast to give you this fic for an unrelated fandom woops

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littlewinter1917 · 3 years ago

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ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ

𝔸 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℤ𝕠𝕠

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.

Series Masterlist

Words: 8.7k

Pairing: Steve Roger x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Steve make the most out of the last days of summer and decide to visit the local zoo. But as fun and romantic as the activity is, you also have to face the fact that dating a well-known Super Soldier isn't always easy.

Warnings: It's pretty much just pure fluff, with the tiniest sparks of angst. Pet names (mostly Sweetheart & Angel) and some teasing. Maybe an undetected swearword or two.

If there are any warnings, that you think are missing, please don‘t hesitate to reach out and tell me, so I can add them accordingly.

A/N: This is my first time writing and sharing a story, so if you're reading this, I hope you enjoy!

“Sweetheart, are you ready yet?”

Steve calls out from the bedroom, hoping you’ll hear him while you’re getting ready a few doors down in the bathroom.

“Yes! I’m almost done!” you shout back, straightening your t-shirt and taking one last look in the mirror.

The excitement you feel is clearly written on your face, and you can’t help but let out a small squeal at the thought of all the animals you’ll be going to see and pet.

You are so caught up in your little daydream, that you don’t notice Steve’s approaching footsteps or the soft opening of the bathroom door.

With your mind still occupied, you turn around to leave the bathroom, only to be met with the sudden and unsuspected sight of Steve leaning casually against the door frame, smiling down at you lovingly.

“Good God, Steve!” you exclaim startled, clutching your hand to your chest, trying to calm down your now rapid heartbeat. Steve’s adoring gaze quickly turns into a more apologetic one, once he realizes that he accidentally scared you.

“Sorry Angel, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” he concedes, while gently pulling you closer and placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Hm,‘s not your fault.” you whisper against them whilst playing with the soft strands of hair at the back of his neck. Steve just hums at that, before tightening his arms around you and gently kissing your shoulder.

“So, you’re ready to go?” he murmurs against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You only manage to nod in approval, not wanting to disturb the little moment of tenderness that engulfs the two of you. But once Steve starts to draw soft patterns on your back, you can’t help but let out a small sigh of content, snuggling closer to his chest and basking in the feeling of his gentle embrace.

The moment is short-lived though, as Steve decides to break the otherwise comfortable silence. “We should get going soon,” he mumbles, voice low, as he gently untangles himself from you.

Even though you try not to, you let out a soft whine, voicing your displeasure at the loss of his touch, making Steve coo.

“You can get all the cuddles you want Sweetheart, when we’re back from our little trip.” A small huff escapes your lips before you demonstratively hold out your pinky finger to him.

The sight of your stubborn determination makes Steve laugh, and the warmth of its sound fills both the room and your heart, making you smile.

“I pinky promise that you can get all the cuddles you want, Sweetheart.” Steve adoringly whispers, intertwining your little fingers, before pulling you into him again, gently kissing your forehead.

Your hands instinctively grab and hold on to him, trying to get him closer, and your honest display of affection and longing for him makes his heart flutter.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he coos, “I thought you were excited about going to the zoo, hm?”

Oh god, the zoo!

You almost forgot about that completely, and by your wide-eyed reaction, Steve can clearly tell.

“So, you want to keep the penguins waiting, or… ?” he teases, and you playfully slap his side before reluctantly letting go and trying to move past him.

“You know, if you’d rather stay in today and have the zoo-date another time, we can always reschedule.” He says, his eyes searching yours, trying to communicate the same reassurance that his voice transports.

“No.” you chirp. The excitement from earlier is already back in your eyes, and you shake your head to emphasize your stand. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to keep the penguins waiting.” you add.

“Alright, then let’s get our things and get going. There is only so little time, and so many animals to see.”

“And plants!” you add enthusiastically, being almost equally excited about the small botanical garden that’s incorporated in the more tropical segment of the zoo.

“And the plants.” Steve agrees, while following you down the hallway, smiling.

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While you were getting ready earlier, Steve had packed everything you two could possibly need into a big, sturdy backpack.

“I think we have everything.” Steve mumbles, more to himself than to you, while briefly going through its content again. “We have some sunscreen, sunglasses, water bottles and those sandwiches you helped me make, some snacks and fruits, money for the tickets, keys …”

He trails off, looking over the room once more, trying to think of anything he might have forgotten.

When he spots his baseball cap near the entrance, he speaks up again.

“Sweetheart, do you want to take a hat with you? The weather is supposed to get even hotter, and I don’t want you to get a heatstroke or something.”

“I think I’ll be fine, Stevie.” your voice is a little bit mumbled, since you’re currently kneeling on the ground, preoccupied with trying to tie up your sneakers.

“Alright! Well, I’ll be wearing mine, at least at the beginning …”

Steve doesn’t finish his sentence; he doesn’t need to – you already know what he is trying to say.

He’ll be wearing the cap not as a prevention for a possible heatstroke, but for the simple sake of at least some sense of anonymity, trying to lessen the chances of him being recognized.

It’s not like Steve hates the attention he often gets from the public. There are times when he is more than happy to stop for a quick photo or a handshake, but when he is out and about with you by his side, he does desire a certain sense of privacy, and so do you.

When you two first started dating, that was the hardest thing to get used to, and truth be told, you still struggle with it.

Obviously, you’d been aware of Steve’s public persona as Captain America, and the responsibility that the title entailed, long before you even started dating, but the visibility and public scrutiny that came with his occupation, was rather new to you.

Especially once the word got out, that the two of you were dating. Suddenly parts of the public interest that were initially focused on him also shifted on to you.

You used to joke, that if you’d get a dollar every time Steve and you get approached by people in public, you’d easily be able to compete with Tony’s net worth. And while you were obliviously exaggerating and making fun of the situation, Steve could also tell that it was taking somewhat of a toll on you.

To be fair, it wasn’t like you hated those encounters across the board. There were, and still are, a lot of times where Steve’s interactions with the public are nice to watch and take part of.

The number of times, for example, that random children would approach him, starstruck and starry-eyed, are as countless as they are endearing, which is to say, very - and, subsequently, many.

It always makes your heart gleam with a mixture of pride and joy when you get to witness those interactions.

You’re not quite sure if it is because Steve is naturally good with kids, or kids are naturally good with Steve, but each encounter is filled with a warmth and a gentleness, that makes your heart both melt and pop.

And so, you tend to stand there with your heart in a puddle, while Steve talks and engages with the children in such a carefree yet gentle way.

But there are also some encounters, that don’t spark as much joy.

Or none at all, if you’re being honest.

Those are usually the ones whose timing couldn’t be worse. Like getting approached while the two of you are having small romantic dates out in the park or in cozy coffee shops. Even your cute little trips to museums and art galleries once in a while aren’t spared from the casual interference of others.

There’s almost always someone, somewhere, shouting in both a mixture of disbelief and joy:“Is this Captain America?”

And then the heads start to turn, and the murmur starts, and your previous little date idea gets turned into a live meet-and-greet Captain America event.

And it sucks.

It’s not like you want to keep Steve all to yourself; it’s just that you don’t want to share him every single time you two go out in public together. Especially when it’s supposed to be a fun and romantic activity just between the two of you.

And so, because of that, Steve often tries to keep his recognizability somewhat more subtle and limited by wearing his baseball cap and some sunglasses, but there’s only so much that that supposed ‘transformation’ can do.

Tony once kindly offered that the department responsible for the Avengers suits and apparel could probably help, and come up with a more cohesive incognito look, but that didn’t work out too well either. Not for a lack of trying on their part, though.

You two had taken them up on that offer once, and they managed to turn Steve into someone so completely unrecognizable, that you almost walked past him when you’d come to pick him up.

Apart from his clothing, plaid trousers and a simple button-down shirt that emitted more the vibe of a hip history professor, the thing that threw you off the most was the 16 inches-long wig he was wearing. It made him look like Thor’s long-lost twin brother, and you could hardly take his appearance seriously.

When you finally managed to stop laughing, you pulled him into the living quarters of the compound, where the laughing continued, once everybody realized who they were looking at.

The Date to the planetarium that followed went great; not a single person recognized and approached the two of you. The only downside was that the date with Steve didn’t really feel like a date with Steve.

Apart from the reason that Steve’s long-haired wig made you feel like you were out and about with a beefier version of Jesus, rather than your treasured Super Soldier, the wig was also highly unpractical in a more tangible sense. Every time you turned to him and leaned in for a kiss, your hands and jewelry would easily get tangled up in his long strands of synthetic hair.

Neither of you were used to the hairy mess the Avenger’s apparel department provided you with – and it showed.

It did make for a fun date tough.

Steve was highly amused about the amount of double takes you had to do when you were looking for him.

You, on the other hand, had the time off your life once the two of you exited the planetarium, only to be greeted with a pleasant afternoon breeze, that took Steve – and his hair – by surprise. It looked like an unsuspected hair commercial in the making, and you almost tripped down the stairs laughing while trying to take a photo of Steve’s glorious mane in the wind.

All in all, it was a good time, but at the end of it, you both decided that it was neither worth the trouble nor a sustainable solution to your problem. And so, Steve traded his wig for his beloved baseball cap again, even if it heightened the possibility of him being recognized.

You knew that Steve was trying his best to give you some sense of normality in your experience of dating a super-famous Super Soldier, and you appreciated his efforts, even when they didn’t always work out.

Once you and Steve step outside of the Avenger’s Tower, you’re hit with both: The sudden brightness of the sun, and the common busyness and noise of New York City’s bustling streets.

One single ray of sunshine manages to find its way between the tall skyscrapers in front of you, making you squint. Instinctively you raise one hand in an attempt to shield your eyes from its blazing gaze.

Steve, who is already wearing his sunglasses, quickly gets out your pair for you and you gratefully take them. His attentiveness is something you’ll never get tired of; even when he sometimes has the tendency to dote over you, it’s rather endearing.

You make your way down the street. Hand in hand, because the craze of the city can otherwise easily separate the two of you.

Even without the frantic mass of people, that hastily bustles about the avenues, in a city that big, you will always seek out the shelter of your beloved Super Soldier, who still knows this place in a way you probably never will.

So, in an attempt to not get lost, or trampled, or abducted, your hand reaches out for his, and his hand does the same.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Steve navigates himself and you through the city like he’s done it a million times before, and it never fails to amaze you how good his sense of direction is. It’s something you’re obviously lacking, and Steve can’t help but teasingly bring it up every now and then.

This time around though, he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps talking about the little, newly opened Italian restaurant that you two just passed by.

“It looked really cozy and busy – that’s always a good sign, right? Maybe we can check it out this weekend.” Steve offers, while gently swinging your joined hands back and forth.

You hum in agreement, more focused on not getting jostled by the oncoming businessmen and -women.

Gripping his hand tighter, you curl up more into Steve’s side, seeking out the protection and safety of his tall statue.

Once Steve realizes what’s going on, he immediately pulls you close to him, wrapping his arm protectively around your smaller frame and making sure you’re okay.

“I can always give you a piggyback ride.” he offers, and you shake your head, laughing.

As inviting as that proposal sounds, the fear of the potential attention it might garner makes you decline his offer. You’d rather be subjected to the ongoing pushing and shoving of some careless pedestrians, than the unwanted attention and possibility of recognition.

“We’re nearly there, Sweetheart.” Steve gently encourages you, while keeping you as close to him as possible, leading you down the busy streets of New York.

You must have picked a good time to visit the zoo, because the line in front of the ticket booth is almost non-existent.

It doesn’t take long for it to be your turn, and Steve immediately takes charge, getting the tickets. The woman at the counter also hands him some pamphlets with certain attractions, and a small map, which he gratefully takes.

You softly tug on his arm, trying to get his attention, before pointing at the small bags with dry food, that are arranged on a shelf behind the vendor.

“Can we buy some of that food for the animals in the petting zoo?” you ask, eyes bright.

Steve instantly agrees, and the small squeal of joy that escapes your lips is like music to his ears. “There you go, Sweetheart.” he says, as he hands you your ticket and the small paper cone, filled with little pellets of dry food.

“Thanks, Stevie!” The way you beam up at him has his heart doing flips.

God, you’re adorable.

“So, where do you want to go first?” he asks, while looking down at the open map in his hands.

“The petting zoo!” you chime while clapping your hands in delight. You have to suppress the urge to just grab Steve's hand and drag him to the enclosure, so instead you softly bounce on the spot.

Looking up from his map, Steve’s eyes soften once he sees how you’re barely able to contain your excitement. It radiates off of you in a way that’s contagious.

Well, contagious to him anyway.

“Alright.” he approves, and that’s all the agreement you need, before sprinting into action, grabbing Steve’s hand, and tugging him along.

You only come to a brief halt at the doors of the enclosure, while you read the small signs that introduce some of the animals inside of it.

The petting zoo contains mostly goats, bunnies, guinea pigs and some piglets, but there are also two donkeys and one of them is called …

“Steve!” you joyfully exclaim.

“The donkey is named after you!”

The man in question furrows his brow, and you point him to the part on the metal sign, where the donkeys get introduced.

“See, Steve and Sally. Aww, he even looks a little bit like you!” you coo, looking at the small picture they provide next to the profile.

“I don’t quite see it.” Steve says dryly, and you huff.

“He even has similar interests to yours. It says here that he likes sunshine, early morning runs, pets behind his ears and bananas!

Biting your lip to keep yourself from laughing, you innocently look up at Steve, who regards you with a fake scowl.

“You’re being awfully bratty today, Angel.” he chides, yet his words don’t have any bite to them.

“Me? Never!” your fake indignation is riddled with the giggles you’re desperately trying to hold in. That mission fails completely though, once you read the Interesting Fact they provide next to each introduced animal.

“Oh my god, Steve!” you croak out between laughter. “He even tried to eat an American flag once. God, I love him already!”

Before Steve has the chance to reply, you’re dragging him into the enclosure. “Come on, let’s meet my newfound hero!”

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The donkey is just as cute as in the picture, and even friendlier than you imagined. After you introduced yourself and Steve - you couldn’t help yourself from saying “Steve, meet Steve,” while pointing between the tall Super Soldier and the rather small pony-sized creature – you slowly started petting the animal.

The happy brays he lets out make you laugh softly, and your smile only widens once your eyes find Steve’s.

“Don’t you dare say he sounds like me too!” Steve exclaims, and that comment only fuels your giggles.

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” you say, while stroking the fur behind the donkey’s ears. “But you have to admit, he’s adorable!” you coo, before quickly adding: “Not as cute as you, of course, but it’s a close second.”

“Well, that’s certainly comforting to hear.” Steve retorts. “So, you’re not gonna leave me for one of those gray-haired fellas?”

“I already have my gray-haired fella at home, old man,” you counter, before whispering a small “almost.”

Steve still picks it up, and his reaction is instant. His strong hands reach out to you, playfully poking your sides.

“You take that back! You take that back right now!” he urges, laughing, as you try to squirm away from his grasp, the sweet sound of your giggles filling the air. Your antics only come to a halt once you’re breathlessly begging for mercy, and Steve pulls you in for a hug.

“You still have a lot of energy for a 103-year-old.” you whisper.

“Oh Sweetheart, you know, I can be relentless.” he counters, and you hum in agreement.

“You don’t actually look like a donkey.” you try to clarify. “It’s just that the donkey somehow looks like you.”

Before Steve can rekindle his attacks, you’re already apologizing again. “I’m joking! I’m joking!” you exclaim, as soon as you feel the tiniest brush of his fingertips poking your sides.

Hugging him closer once more, you whisper: “I’m sorry. I’m being mean. You’re still the prettiest man on the planet, and you always will be.”

Brushing your hands softly through his hair and gently cupping his cheek, you notice the small red tint that adorns them.

“Aww you’re blushing!” you quietly tease. “I guess I don’t call you pretty enough. I need to tell you that more, I think.” you observe.

His blush only deepens, and you coo again.

He really is the prettiest man alive. And the sweetest, and kindest, and bravest.

As you softly tell him all about your thoughts, his grip around you tightens, and he burrows his face in your neck.

“I love you so much.” you mumble against his shoulder, and even though you can’t see him right now, you know that he’s smiling.

“I love you too.” he whispers back, voice low, before gently kissing your forehead.

His lips lingers there for a moment before he speaks up again.

“I think we need to stop; there’s an older lady, who’s already giving us the stink-eye.”

“Oh, let her stare. If they look at you funny, you just look right back at them funny, that normally does the trick for me.”

“I’m not going to glare down a grandma!” Steve whispers exasperated.

“Well, you might not, but I certainly will, if she's making you uncomfortable.” you announce, and Steve just shakes his head, laughing.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

After moving on from the donkeys, you spend some time with the goats. Even Steve has to admit that they are rather endearing.

“Maybe we should bring Bucky with us next time. You know how he still gushes about the goats he had in Wakanda. I’m sure he’d enjoy some time here.” you suggest, while feeding a small brown doeling.

She softly munches the food right out of the palm of your hand, and the feeling of her rough tongue on your skin makes you giggle.

“If we would bring Buck, that’s going to be your liability, because I’m pretty sure he would never leave the goat enclosure again.” Steve observes.

“Can’t really blame him. I might have my donkey at home, but those goats certainly have character.” you tease.

Instead of answering, Steve decides to just throw some pellets your way.

“Hey!” you whine playfully, before making a counter strike. When you don’t hit your target, Steve just grins at you cheekily.

It’s that boyish smile you love so much, and it fills your heart with a joy that’s carefree and content. It feels just like the soft sunrays that are currently caressing your skin: Warm, light, and golden.

Your thoughts are only interrupted once another pellet flies your way, barely missing your face.

“Hey!” you exclaim once more, laughing, yet Steve’s eyes turn instantly apologetic when he realizes he almost struck your pretty face. You quickly reassure him that it’s alright, before walking over to the rabbits and guinea pigs, patiently sitting down next to them.

Rather than just grabbing one, you wait for one of the timid rodents to approach you instead. A small – and presumably younger – bunny seems curious enough, as he hops your way, and you manage to coax him with some food and a very gentle voice. His fluffy fur is in an off-white color with gray specks and his floppy ears twitch every now and then.

“Hey little friend.” you whisper once his wiggly nose brushes your open palm. It takes some more coaxing before he starts eating out of it, and you beam at that development.

Steve watches the interaction with a soft, adoring gaze.

God, Wanda was right. He really is head over heels for you.

But then again, how could he not be.

There’s a gentleness and kindness in the way you approach the world, and the fact that you’ve chosen him out of all people to trust the most, fills his heart with an endless amount of pride and happiness, that’s hard to put into words.

You’ve come into his life like a whirlwind, turning everything upside down and taking over his heart by storm.

Without your knowing, you made all of his previous priorities flip, until you were the only and most important thing on his mind. You still are, of course, and Steve is sure that this is something that will never change.

You’re the one.

The one who’s voice and laughter he’ll never grow tired of hearing.

The one who he comes home to after a rough mission, taking up the biggest space in his bed and in his heart – and he wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

You’re the most precious thing on the planet, and he’d burn it all down if he had to, just to keep you safe.

“Steve!” you softly call out to him, and his focus shifts back on you.

The small bunny is now sitting contently in your lap, while you’re sporting the proudest look.

“His fur is so soft!” you quietly mouth to him, and he smiles before making his way to you, gently kneeling down by your side. “Here! Feel!” you chirp, as you carefully guide his hands towards the small bunny.

“Do you think we could get some of those?” you carefully ask.

“Of course.” Steve agrees without really thinking - he doesn’t need to. If you want it, you’ll get it; no questions asked. He’ll even fight Tony on it if he has to, or anyone else for that matter.

“Really?” you beam.

“I pinky promise, Sweetheart.” he whispers before kissing the top of your head and standing back up. You follow suit, after carefully moving the bunny from your lap.

“Let’s just visit the piglets, and then we can move on to the bigger animals!” you proclaim, while reaching for Steve’s hand again, gently tugging him towards the small, baby pink piggies.

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Once you’ve finished cooing over the small piglets while simultaneously feeding and petting them, you and Steve make your way back towards the regular path of the zoo.

Steve had just gotten out his map again, trying to visualize the vicinity, when you spot the panda enclosure.

Nice!

“Steve, do we have to consider the map? Can’t we just walk around and go wherever our curiosity takes us?” you ask.

“You mean, wherever your curiosity takes you.” Steve teases and you let out a small huff while folding your arms over your chest, defensively.

“Not true.” you whine, before adding: “I can’t help it if I’m younger and pick up more things, you know.”

“Uh-huh” Steve hums. “And patience is a virtue that …”

“I’ve never met once in my life.” you finish the sentence for him.

“That is not the quote I was going for, but it certainly rings true too.” Steve agrees, before folding his map up again. “Alright, so where’s your curiosity leading you to, this time.” he concedes with a warm smile and your eyes light up at that.

“Easy, this way!” you say, before grabbing his hand, dragging him along once more.

“Steve, look!” you exclaim, while excitedly pointing at the wild cat enclosure. There’s a tiger that’s currently taking a bath, and it completely seizes your attention.

At the risk of sounding like a total lovesick fool, Steve has to admit that he’s way more encaptured by your endearing reactions to everything, than the actual attractions and animals themselves.

You two already visited the panda and bear enclosure, looked at some monkeys, zebras, hippos, and foxes, and now you’re leading him towards the area with the wildcats.

Lynx, lions, pumas, cheetahs, and some tigers are what’s initially advertised; still, he’s barely able to focus on that.

With your hands closely intertwined, and your soft voice that calls out to him, his attention has a hard time staying away from you.

You’re especially excited by the cheetahs, and you enthusiastically tell him all the facts you know about them.

How they’re incredibly fast and powerful, yet often also anxious and shy. You tell him how some of the cheetahs living in captivity often need emotional support dogs, to help them cope with their high levels of stress.

They’re the true scaredy cat-cats.

After your ramblings about the wildcats, you start gushing over their emotional support dogs. “They must be so proud!” you tell him. “Imagine being a dog, who ends up working with those cheetahs. How badass it that? Like a mouse who’s a therapist for a housecat, or a sparrow that takes care of an alligator…”

Steve smiles at your excitement, while listening attentively to everything you’re saying.

How did he ever get this lucky?

But as your speech slowly comes to an end, another sound appears. It’s faint, but Steve’s Super Soldier hearing still picks it up. He’s heard it enough times to be able to identify it – It’s the sound of your tummy rumbling.

“Sweetheart, are you hungry?” he questions, and you look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Dammit, I had hoped you didn’t catch that.” you mumble embarrassed, and Steve laughs.

“How about we look for a more quiet space, where we can eat some of our sandwiches and snacks.” he proposes, and you agree.

This time, Steve takes your hand, leading the way.

After some searching, the two of you managed to find a little bench, shaded by a rather sturdy oak. The tree doesn’t just shield you from the blazing sun, but also from the curious gaze of others.

It’s a romantic little space, as you look out onto a small park area, not too far off from the peacock enclosure. You’d stopped there briefly, fascinated by their colorful display of shimmering feathers, before moving on.

And now, you're sitting here, next to Steve, eating your little sandwich and sharing some small snacks. It's calm and peacefully quiet, apart from some faint bird-chirping and the remote sound of children’s laughter, carried over to you by a soft summer breeze.

“This was such a lovely idea, Steve.” you comment quietly once you’ve finished your sandwich.

The man in question smiles at that. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Angel.”

You hum in agreement, before popping some fresh berries into your mouth.

The satisfied sigh you let out is making Steve laugh. “Are those berries that good?” he questions playfully.

“No, but the view right now is to die for.” you say, while locking eyes with him.

“Hm, I guess you’re right. This little park area certainly has some flair.” Steve agrees, and if it wasn’t for the blueberries in your hand, you’d face-palm right now.

“I’m not taking about the park, Steve.” you clarify, while giving him a pointed look, and he blushes.

“Oh, I see … “ he mumbles, red-tinted embarrassment tainting his cheeks and migrating up to his ears. Who knew a Super Soldier could get that flustered – and look so endearing while doing it.

You weren’t lying though – even with Steve just sitting there, wearing a light gray t-shirt and some washed-out jeans, he looks like a god; Completely out of this world.

And it’s not just his sturdy arms and muscles.

It’s in the way his kind eyes light up, framed by those rich eyelashes.

It’s in the way he looks at you; looks at the world with such benevolence, such compassion, even after everything he’s been through.

Maybe it’s also in the way that those small rays of sunlight, currently shining through the tree crown, illuminate his skin, giving him a golden glow.

But whatever the reason may be, he certainly looks good. Especially, when he’s blushing like that, you think, smiling.

Once you two finished your small lunch, you’re eager to get back to the animals.

The giraffes and elephants are next, followed by the penguins and some wombats.

You and Steve have also established a small game by now.

One of you steps up to the informational sign of the enclosure first and reads it, before letting the other person guess what the Interesting Fact about the animal is.

It’s currently Steve’s turn at guessing, as you two are standing in front of the flamingo area.

“Okay!” you chime, as you turn away from the metal sign, focusing back on Steve. Your eyes are sparkling with excitement, letting Steve know that this fact is going to be good.

“So, flamingos are known for their pink color and dorky looks, but there is something else that makes this animal quite badass. What could that possibly be?” you challenge Steve gleefully.

He ponders your question for a moment, looking over at the pink birds. “Hm, maybe they can stand on one leg for over 24 hours.” he contemplates.

“Is that your final answer?” you question, and the playful glimmer in your eyes lets him already know that he’s wrong.

Still, he stays with his entry and nods.

“Well, that is incorrect!” you announce. “Or at least, that’s not the fact they have written down.” you clarify.

“Okay, I’ll give you three options instead, and only one of them is the correct one.” you offer.

“So, once more, what makes the flamingo so badass? Is it a) they all have pink belts in karate; b) they can drink boiling water; or is it c) they can hold their breath for half an hour when diving for food.” you question, expectantly looking at Steve, who’s scratching his head, laughing.

“Well, it’s either b or c, but they both sound so unbelievable, I might as well go with answer a.” He jokes.

“Sir, I need an answer from you now, the time is running up.” you playfully chide and it’s making him laugh even more.

“Alright, show host, you can log in answer b for me.”

“B? Are you sure?” Steve just nods, and it makes your smile grow wider.

“Well, contestant, you won’t believe me when I say this, but your answer is …. ding, ding, ding – correct!” you exclaim excited, while wrapping your arms around his neck

“Wait, really?” Steve looks at you, dumbfounded. “Uh-huh. Flamingos can apparently drink boiling water.” you reiterate, before pulling him closer.

“Congratulations, soldier, you’ve won the main price!” you whisper against his lips before softly kissing him, and the sweet action makes Steve smile into the kiss, as his heart melts in the blazing sun.

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Moving from enclosure to enclosure, your little game continues. There are wolves, deer, beavers, and burrowing owls, and each stop at the gates is filled with your playful antics and shared laughter.

You only come to a short pause, once you notice a small ice cream parlor in the distance, and it doesn’t take much convincing to get Steve to go there with you.

Actually, it doesn’t take any convincing at all.

The shop is small and features only a select number of ice cream flavors. You order 3 scoops each, before happily making your way over to the American bison enclosure.

The area is less crowded and actually quite peaceful. The scenery of the meadow with the occasional grazing bull emitting a sense of tranquility.

While sharing your ice cream, you two watch these seemingly serene creatures, who are just standing there, munching on grass, and lazily gazing at the landscape around them.

There’s a timelessness to them, you think. The way they just stand there, unbothered, like they’ve seen it all.

And maybe they have.

Steve gently pulls you out of your thoughts, when he offers you his last bit of cherry ice cream, holding out his cone to you. You gratefully take him up on his offer, while simultaneously holding your cone out for him.

Sharing is caring after all.

Once your ice cream is done, you and Steve continue sitting there, just talking until Steve suddenly leans closer.

He gently brushes some lingering ice-cream stains from the corner of your mouth with his thumb before licking it off. He keeps his eyes locked on you, and the action leaves your cheeks feeling heated, and your heartrate in a frenzy.

“Two can play this game, Angel.” Steve whispers, giving you a knowing smile.

You let out a small whine, before burrowing your face in his chest, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Steve just coos at your flustered state.

“Steve, stop. You’re giving me heart palpitations,” you mumble into his chest.

“No can do, Sweetheart. It’s only fair that you get a taste of your own medicine.”

You bite back your reply to that; otherwise, you two might end up doing something entirely different.

Unaware of the questionable thoughts in your head; Steve changes the topic, reminding you of the activities you still have planned.

“Do you want to go to the meerkat and prairie dog enclosure, now? Their feeding should start soon.”

You’re still curled up into his chest, basking in the feeling of his strong embrace, and the gentle smell of his cologne. “Can we just stay here a little longer.” you request, voice mumbled, and soft.

Steve lets out a small laugh, that makes his chest rumble and vibrate. “Of course, if that’s what you prefer. You just sounded so excited earlier when you heard about the public feeding.” Steve tries to clarify, making sure that’s what you really want.

Steve’s right. When he told you about the attraction earlier, you could barely contain your excitement at the idea of watching the small animals nibble on some food. But in that very moment, you didn’t really think things through.

It was only sometime later, when your excitement had cooled down a bit, that you realized that this endeavor might not be the best idea.

There’s obviously going to be a crowd watching the spectacle, and those are something to avoid when you’re with your beloved Super Soldier. The chances of getting recognized there, are just a bit too high, yet you’re hesitant to tell those thoughts to Steve.

You don’t want him to feel bad, and you know that he’ll try to convince you that it’s no big deal. You already feel selfish for feeling so protective of your relationship, and the fear that he might think you’re overreacting lingers in your mind, even though he has never given you a reason to do so.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? You’re being awfully quiet right now.” Steve pries. He can tell something is wrong; he just knows you too damn well.

“Nothing!” you chirp, but the sound is off. It’s too high and anxious.

“Angel.” his tone is stern.

Steve doesn’t often use his Captain America voice with you, but when he does, it works every time.

Just like now.

Playing with the fabric of his gray t-shirt and looking anywhere but his eyes, you quietly mumble: “There’s going to be lots of people, Steve. Lots of people to recognize you…”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he knows what you’re getting at, and it makes his heart twist in guilt.

“You know, we can still …”

“No, Steve,” you interrupt him. “We can’t, and I don’t want to. This day has been nothing, but a dream come true. We haven’t been approached once, and I’d like to keep it that way. If I have to sacrifice a meerkat feeding for that, I’ll happily do it.” You state, and Steve sighs.

“I’m sorry, Angel.” he whispers, voice low and tainted with regret. “Maybe you could go there by yourself, while I stay somewhere in the background?” he offers, but you just shake your head.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’d rather see all the other animals with you, then one meerkat feeding without you.”

He smiles at that, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m still sorry about this.” he mutters, guilt clear in his voice. You sigh. That’s exactly what you were trying to avoid.

“Steve,” you whisper, gently cupping his cheek, making him look at you. “This isn’t your fault. Stop feeling sorry about something that you have no control over, whatsoever. If anything, I’m sorry for being so sensitive about this.” you state.

“No, you have every right to be!” Steve defends, and the conviction in his eyes makes some of your worry ease away.

“Well, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty about that, neither are you.” you assert matter-of-factly, and this time the smile that adorns Steve’s face reaches his bright blue eyes.

“Alright, deal.” he affirms, before taking your hand, sweeping you up from your seat. “Let’s continue. There’s still a lot to explore.”

You’re about to walk into the reptile house when you spot one more open enclosure.

“Oh my God Steve, look!” you call out, while pointing at one of the llamas. “Aww, he looks just like Kuzco!” you observe, and it makes Steve frown in confusion.

“Sweetheart, that’s a rude thing to say about someone.” he softly chides, and you give him a puzzled look.

“What? Are you telling me you don’t know who Kuzco is?” you ask, dumbfounded, and Steve just shakes his head.

“Is he a work friend of yours? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned someone with that name?" he questions, brows still furrowed in confusion.

“Steve!” you laugh, “have you not seen The Emperor’s New Groove?”

“No, I don’t think I have.” he confesses, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Oh my God! I thought Tony introduced you to the best works of this century’s cinema.”

“Yes, but I don’t remember a movie named like that.”

“This is outrageous. I can’t believe you’ve never seen this masterpiece! We’ll have to change that once we’re home!” you proclaim playfully, before taking his hand and walking towards the reptile house.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Stepping into the building, you’re immediately greeted by a sudden temperature drop.

The rooms are a lot darker and cooler then the outside premise, and you can’t help but shiver as goosebumps form on your skin.

Instinctively, you pull Steve closer, grabbing his hand tighter.

The animals that follow vary from adorable to absolutely frightening. The small turtles and geckos make you coo, but the bigger lizards and snakes already sport a more intimidating look.

There are boas, pythons, and mambas, and you have to remind yourself that you’re protected by both the Plexiglas as well as your trusted Super Soldier.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Once you’ve finished exploring every room, you make your way to the small botanical garden. Its atmosphere stands in stark contrast to that of the dark reptile house.

There are colorful flowers and bright green plants and palm trees.

There’s light coming through the ceiling, illuminating the stone path before you, and the temperature is warmer and a little bit more humid.

After walking through the vicinity, hand in hand, the two of you spot a small, secluded bench. It’s placed next to a little pond, and a small bush of plumerias.

Sitting down, you sigh in content as you breathe in the sweet smell of the little white and yellow flowers. Steve gets out some left-over fruits, and you share a second, small meal. You can hear the soft splatter of water in the background, and it’s as relaxing as can be.

Looking at the man in front of you adoringly, your expression falters when you see the small furrow etched between his brows. He’s thinking about something, and it’s not a pleasant thought.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, having learned the small signs of worry that sometimes cloud the face of your beautiful man.

Steve just sighs, before pulling you closer. So close, you might as well just sit in his lap.

“Was just thinking.” he mumbles, voice low, and still preoccupied with whatever’s going through his mind right now. “About?” you inquire, and the silence that follows makes you sigh in return.

“Steve, we talked about this. Don’t shut me out.” you whisper, knowing that your beloved soldier still has a tendency to keep his worries hidden from your view, trying not to burden you with it.

“I was thinking about the meerkat-thing.” he says, and you groan.

“No, hear me out, Sweetheart,” he continues. “You deserve the world, you truly do, and it pains me to know that everywhere we go, you have to sacrifice something, just because you’re with me. The meerkat-thing is just one of the many examples that reiterate that.”

“Okay,” you assess slowly, “what are you trying to say?” you carefully ask.

“I don’t know.” he whispers.

“I just keep thinking that you have to sacrifice so much, just in order to be with me. I wish I could give you more than that. I wish I could take you out on dates without us having to worry about being recognized, approached and disturbed.”

He looks at you with such turmoil and pain in his eyes, it makes your heart clench and curl up into a ball and cry.

“Oh, Stevie.” you murmur, before gently cupping his face and straddling his lap.

“Steve honey, listen. This whole getting-approached-by-strangers-thing sucks; I’m not gonna lie about that, but do you know what would suck a million times more? Not having you in my life! I could live without going out on anymore dates for the rest of my days, but do you know what I cannot live without? You!” you declare passionately, while looking into Steve’s eyes, which are somewhat glossy.

“Sweetheart.” he mumbles, voice thick with emotions, and you just pull him closer, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck.

“I love you, Steve. I love you even when we’re surrounded by what feels like hundreds of people, who all want a piece of you, and take over our dates.”

You feel a light wetness at the nape of your neck, and you gently brush your hand through Steve’s hair. Blinking away your own tears, you make a soft shushing sound, trying to calm him down.

“I love you. Don’t ever doubt me on that!” you whisper softly, and you feel Steve nod against your skin before whispering a small, timid “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I love you, and as long as you love me back, that’s all I need. That’s enough for me.” you try to clarify, before gently adding: “I know you feel a close kinship and obligation towards people, and you’re too polite to call them out when they approach us at the worst possible timing, but you’re allowed to tell some people off. The shield might be public property, Steve, but you aren’t. You’re allowed to have boundaries too.”

Your kind words fill Steve with a warm, fuzzy feeling, and it spreads on his face in the form of a soft smile. The love he feels for you keeps blooming and expanding, like the fragrant flowers growing all around you.

He’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to put it into words just how much you mean to him exactly, but he knows that he’ll try his damn best to show you every single day.

He hopes that that’s enough, hopes that it’s good enough for you. Losing you would be worse than dying, he’s sure of that. But all he manages to mumble out is a soft: “I love you so much.”

His words and voice are filled with such honesty, such devotion and conviction, you fear your heart might pound straight out of your chest, and into his lap.

“I know,” you whisper. “I love you just as much!”

He hums in content, and the silence that follows is the most comfortable silence you’ve ever experienced.

The two of you stay there, curled up in each other’s embrace, basking in one of the best feelings ever. Loving and feeling loved.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

You’re not sure how much time has passed, when Steve speaks up again, but the sun is slowly starting to set, and it fills the garden with a golden glow.

“You’re ready to go home, Sweetheart?” he questions softly, voice full of affection.

No. You just want to stay in his loving embrace forever, but instead of articulating that, you let out a small whine, while shaking your head demonstratively.

The laugh that rumbles out of Steve’s chest is warm and hearty, and he softly smiles down at you.

“Come on.” he coaxes.

There’s something he’s sure he can beckon you with.

“I think they have a small souvenir shop near the exit with lots of stuffed animals.” he offers, and it makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and excited.

Gotcha. Steve thinks, a satisfied smile on his lips. The promise of stuffed animals works every time.

You slowly untangle yourself from him, before standing up and taking his hand.

“What are you waiting for, old man.” You playfully provoke him while he’s adjusting his backpack.

“Careful Sweetheart, or I might accidentally lose you in the middle of New York.” he says, yet you know it’s an empty threat. He would never even dream of doing something like that, not in a million years.

“Don’t underestimate the grasp I have on you.” you joke, referring to the way you’d normally cling to his arm and hand, but Steve thinks about how true those words are in a broader sense.

How you have the strongest possible grasp on his heart, in the gentlest way.

Unaware of his adoring thoughts, you drag him to the exit of the botanical garden, and he watches you with the warmest smile.

Once you step out of the garden your eyes instantly find, and fixate on the small souvenir shop, walking straight towards it.

The place is spacious and there are a couple of kids running around, shoving stuffed animals in their parents faces. The selection of stuffies is broad, but you already know what you want.

Steve thinks you’ll be going over to the cheetahs, yet he finds himself surprised, when he watches you walk towards… the donkeys?

He observes you carefully picking up a medium-sized stuffie and clutching it tightly to your chest, a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Stevie! Look!” you exclaim, as you turn your attention to him, holding the stuffie up proudly.

Little did you know, he was already looking at you the whole time.

Eyes soft and smile warm.

“Sweetheart, are you sure? Don’t you want something more… exciting?” he questions, as he points to the array of wild cats and panda bears.

“Nope!” you chirp, the look of content on your face clear as day.

He always wants to see you like this - happy, content, satisfied.

“Wait, Stevie! You should get one too!” you exclaim when you see him slowly make his way toward the checkout.

“The donkey will remind me of you when you’re gone on missions, but you need a stuffie that reminds you of me, too!”

“Sweetheart, you’re in the back of my mind 24/7. I don’t need a …”

“Not the point.” you interrupt him.

“You occupy my mind almost all the time as well, but it’s nice to have something tangible to remind you and to keep close sometimes.”

“Alright.” Steve concedes, before looking at the countless shelves of stuffed animals.

Which one should he even pick?

He thinks back to your interactions earlier, thinks about how soft you looked, with that small bunny comfortably sitting in your lap.

He thinks about how excited you were, when you told him everything you knew about cheetahs, eyes sparkling bright.

He thinks about how softly you’d kissed him at the flamingo enclosure, and how serene you looked while you were watching the American bisons - a dreamy look on your face, and ice cream in hand.

God, is picking your own stuffie always that hard?

His eyes continue to wander along the shelves when he spots it.

There’s a medium-sized cheetah stuffie wearing sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt with little plumerias printed on it.

That’s you.

Cool, adorable, and with a questionable fashion sense.

Thinking back at how you were holding him close in the botanical garden, the sight of the small flowers instantly fills him with the memories of your comforting words and touch.

That’s the one.

Steve makes his way over to the stuffed animal, and it’s even softer than he’d imagined.

“Oh! It’s adorable!” you coo when you see his choice, and Steve smiles.

That’s the one.

He thinks, as he watches you.

The one, who has complete reign over his heart.

You made yourself quite at home in there, filled it with your sweet laughter and your little smiles, the softness of your touch and the kindness in your eyes.

He keeps all these memories of you safely tugged away, underneath his rib cage, in that little treasure chest he calls his heart.

You’re both, his most prized possession, and the strong protector that watches over it all.

The guardian angel of his heart.

“Steve!” you call out to him, from the checkout.

“They say they have a 10 % senior discount for people over 60! Come over here, and figure this out, please!”

It makes him laugh, and there’s only one thought in his mind:

God, how he adores you.

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

Ahhh, that's it! Thanks you so much for reading!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers

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castthy-nightedcolour · 3 years ago

Text

One- Shot: A Different Side (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the post as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Crowley, a very annoying mouse

Warnings and Tags: snakes, animal death/ harm, swearing, uh oh we have a pest control problem, snake crowley, comfort , are they aren’t they

Summary: mouse traps, a skip full of rubbish and a broken down bus. not exactly your dream day, but your favourite demonic entity has a trick up his sleeve and behind his glasses to help you.

Word Count: 2778

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/81050182

If there was one word to describe your mood, that word would be vile. Tiny little irritants throughout the day had built to a simmering anger:

-Firstly, your bus into town had broken down about ten minutes away from your stop, meaning that you were forced to trek your way to the shops.

-Secondly, your trip to said shops wasn’t for any kind of retail therapy, but was instead to buy mouse traps. Your usually serene flat had been taken over by a little grey rodent who despite any humane efforts, was refusing to leave. You weren’t usually one for violence towards any living thing, but the little shit was out staying its welcome and had most recently been seen taking a bite out of a loaf of bread.

-When you did eventually get into town, it seemed to be the day for the world’s slowest walkers to take to the streets. Everyone was moving at about two steps per minute and you, being naturally speedy, were constantly waiting for gaps on the pavement to overtake. When you did manage to do this, there would be a whole new couple walking side by side, plodding along at a snail’s pace. You weren’t getting anywhere quick.

All in all, not your finest hour. This all came to a head on Oxford Street, or as you liked to call it, hell.

Your brain felt as though it were made of jelly, your temperature was rising, and someone stopped right in the middle of the street to check their phone. Slamming right into the back of them, you immediately let out something resembling a howl before running to your side off down Old Cavendish Street, somewhere slightly quieter. You leaned against the nearest wall, hot anger bubbling within you for what at the time, seemed like a life or death scenario of you getting out of town with the mousetraps, but in retrospect was just the culmination of various shitty things.

The last thing which you wanted to hear was any sign that you were being perceived, but a teenage boy riding past you on a bike shouting an obnoxious ‘WAHEYYYY’ at you was enough to tip you over the edge. You bashed your head back on the wall, feeling acid tears of anger falling, pedalled down your face by your short temper. Then, another shout came towards you from across the street.

‘Y/N? Is that you?’

You were ready to push yourself off the wall to lunge at this person until your brain caught up with recognition. Tilting your head forwards, your suspicions were confirmed when you saw floppy, ginger hair bouncing over the street atop a leather-clad frame. The sunglasses perched on his nose brought you a feeling somewhere between relief and fear.

You and Crowley had a relationship which can only be described as ‘are they? Aren’t they?’

You sure as hell couldn’t tell if he had any romantic feelings for you, and he gave off vibes so mixed that they were jumbled by this point. People always commented on the electricity between the two of you whenever you were together, but you tried not to get your hopes up and usually just put this down to his magnetising nature.

He’d told you about himself, and you thought that he must have trusted you somewhat to be able to disclose that he was a demon to you.

Then again, maybe he was just overly confident.

In the state you were currently in, you couldn’t decide whether to run into his arms to scream, or run as quickly away from him as was physically possible.

Your body chose neither and just stood there, open mouthed and gawking as the tears continued to fall with no effort from your eyelids. Crowley examined you, peering over the top of his sunglasses to try and decipher the scene before him.

‘Don’t tell me someone’s upset you, because I will find them for you, Y/N’ he started, rearing himself up as he spoke. You jumped in.

‘No, no. Not upset. I swear. Just… pissed off. Massively, massively pissed off. Short fuse today, y’see.’

‘Oh. Well, I know all about that. I’m quick to anger at any given moment but then again, ‘s in my nature. What exactly are you doing down here?’

You looked to your side at the gigantic skip full of building waste, then down to your feet where someone’s puke sat. You looked back up to the demon.

‘It was a quick escape, one that was made before I slapped someone in the face.’

Crowley looked slightly taken aback, not expecting any expression of violence from you considering your usually placid nature.

‘Ooookay. Well, I won’t ask for details but, here.’ He leaned over slightly and brushed away some of the tears which were still running down your face. You could swear that you both stopped breathing for a moment as he touched you but then again, you weren’t in a fit state for rational thinking.

‘Thank you,’ you breathed out. ‘I’m all good, I promise. Just need to breathe.’ You gave a reassuring smile to the demon and noticed him looking down to your hand, holding a flimsy plastic bag containing the mouse traps.

‘What you got there? Looks interesting.’ He said, tilting his head to try and get a closer look. You brought the bag up to your chest.

‘Oh, mouse traps. There’s a little shit thinking that he owns my flat who’s probably currently in my bread bin. Thought I’d stop the problem while I could, considering there’s that saying about seeing mice. Y’know, for every mouse you see, there’s always another one somewhere. Can’t wait to clean that up!’ Your words had somewhat of a bite, being spat like venom.

‘Woah. You really are pissed, aren’t you?’ Crowley responded, half smirking. For some reason, this set you off again.

‘Yes. Yes, actually I am. Because y’know what? This day has been fucking horrific! I genuinely don’t think that I’ve had two consecutive minutes of peace since the second I woke up. I can’t relax because of the mouse, then there was the bus, and the walking, and the pain in my feet, and the twat who decided to check his phone in the middle of Oxford Street. Sorry, who the hell does that? I just feel like I’ve been left out of any plans that the universe had to let people go about their day without a care in the world. So yes, I’m fuming.’ You gave a huff before realising that you were now crying again. Crowley stood slightly dumbstruck, shifting his weight between his feet. You glanced off to the side, watching the shoppers propel themselves down Oxford Street.

The demon then spoke, his voice low and sincere.

‘Can I give you a lift?’

—

After what felt like a windswept journey in the Bentley, Crowley screeched to a halt outside your flat. Jolting forwards slightly, the plastic bag containing the mouse traps crinkled between your legs.

You’d calmed down quite significantly, but now felt a combination of complete embarrassment that you’d had such an outburst in front of the being that you completely adored, and absolute excitement that he’d even offered you a lift. This wasn’t helped when you heard him say,

‘Let me walk you upstairs. Check that you’re okay.’

You felt fizzy, and as the two of you trudged up to your flat, you felt as though you could lift off any second. As you unlocked your front door, Crowley leaned on the doorframe, peering in to the hallway as you threw your bag on the floor. You suddenly regretted this as when the bag hit the floor, there was a scuttle from under your bedroom door, and the little mouse took one giant sprint off towards the kitchen. You screamed in shock as the little bastard took itself away, and Crowley grabbed onto your arm. This made you jump for a second time.

‘Woah woah there, calm down. It’s just a little mouse, we’ll sort this,’ Crowley sweetly spoke, lulling your heart back to a slightly normal rate. You looked down to his arm resting on yours and couldn’t help but smile slightly.

Crowley had a look on his face which would have read from ten miles away as one with a scheme brewing.

‘Look Y/N, I’m going to do something here which I don’t do very often, and all I’m asking is that you don’t freak out,’ the demon announced.

You couldn’t help but make a sarcastic joke.

‘What’s that then, the housework?’ Smirking, you looked up at Crowley who glared at you through his sunglasses.

‘Fine, you don’t need my help!’ He huffed, obviously taking the piss but you couldn’t help but tease him back into good spirits.

‘No no, sorry Crowley. What have you got for me?’

‘Snake.’

You stood there for a second, trying to make any sense of what he just said and burning up slightly as you wondered if this was perhaps his way of flirting.

‘A… a snake? You have a snake?’

‘Yes. Well, no. Well… yes. Look it’s complicated, can I just show you?’

Uh oh. Maybe this was him flirting.

You thought for a second before hearing an almighty crash from the kitchen, and from down the hallway you saw an entire loaf of bread fall to the ground, followed by a small army of mice. Again, you let out a scream as Crowley slammed the door shut behind the both of you.

‘How fucking many are there now?!’ You exclaimed, turning to face Crowley who was now quickly shifting between his feet. He suddenly grabbed your shoulders.

‘Look Y/N, tell me quick, do you have a phobia?’

‘Of mice? I think that’s pretty evident Crow-‘

‘No, of snakes. Are you scared of snakes?’

‘What is it with you and these snakes?’ You laughed. The demon then stood dead still and stared right at you.

‘Stay still. Don’t freak out please. I promise this will help.’

Before you knew it, Crowley’s hands had disappeared off your shoulders and he seemed to disappear entirely from before you. Confused, you looked down at the floor.

What you saw took your breath away for what felt like forever.

Rows and rows of black scales suddenly lined your hallway, flowing from side to side as the form made its way towards the kitchen. This didn’t take long, considering the snake’s body seemed to run on forever, there must have been at least 10 metres of the creature occupying your apartment.

You’d never really considered Crowley’s powers before. While you were aware that he was a demon, this thought didn’t control your every interaction with him. He was just Crowley- your friend Crowley- your possibly more than a friend Crowley- your Crowley. Shapeshifting had never been part of the picture.

But it was so, so beautiful.

Moving.

And snakes were never your favourite but this was just something else.

Squeals of mouse terror came from the kitchen as a massive shadow rose up throughout the whole apartment. Crowley was sitting up on his body, his head pointed towards any mouse that he could detect and a razor sharp stare in his luminescent eyes.

Your favourite part of this whole scenario was laying on the floor in front of you- Crowley’s sunglasses, sans Crowley for the first time ever. You smiled as you bent down to pick them up, your feet planted to the spot due to the inherently overwhelming nature of what was happening. You ran your fingers over the frames feeling the heat that was stored in them.

There was something so human about the lingering warmth to the metal, but that thing that made it so distinctively Crowley was the fact that the heat never seemed to fade.

The floor seemed to move as the scales once again shifted, with Crowley turning round to come back towards you. Cold fear seized your entire body, despite the oddly comforting and protective energy of this gigantic creature. His yellow eyes were right in front of your face before you’d even managed to properly react to him moving towards you.

You blinked and the Crowley that you knew and … ahem… was standing in front you, a live mouse swinging from his hand by the tail.

‘Consider those rodents dispatched.’

The mouse in his hand was thrashing wildly from side to side and while you hated the little shits, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for it. You went to protest but no words came out of your mouth.

You’d just witnessed something- something that couldn’t exactly be described as a miracle but to you- maybe?

Crowley noticed the panic in your eyes directed towards the mouse and realised what he needed to do. The mouse disappeared in another of your blinks.

There were so many pressing questions on your mind, but you only managed to actually articulate one of them.

‘Please tell me you didn’t eat those mice, Crowley?’ Your tone was somewhere between intrigue and massive concern.

The demon scoffed, ‘I prefer oysters normally, Y/N. No, I didn’t eat them. I can assure you though, they won’t be back any time soon.’

Palpable silence hung between the two of you. You naturally seemed to hold out Crowley’s sunglasses to him, staring directly into the eyes which served as a reminder of his other form as you did so.

Crowley went to slowly take the glasses off you, but in a snap decision, you snatched them back. Crowley wasn’t exactly thrilled by this.

‘Hey, don’t play games with those. They’re my-‘

He didn’t stand a chance of finishing his sentence before you jumped in, with your subconscious mind taking a grasp on your mouth. Maybe this was a trick of Crowley’s, but at least some of it came from your heart.

‘Do it again. Turn back.’

The two of you stared at each other as a smirk took over the demon’s face.

‘Really? It seemed to terrify you, dearest.’

The cockiness in his voice only persuaded you to carry on pushing.

‘Not at all! No no, it was just... well it was a shock at first. Obviously. Like who the hell else can do that? But no, not terror. It’s intrigue. I swear.’

You made sure to assert yourself in your voice as your brain convinced you that you would never rest again unless Crowley turned back into a snake. It was almost like the sheer shock had morphed into utter obsession in a matter of seconds.

And maybe you just adored every part of Crowley and him being vulnerable in showing a new side to you? Well...

Again, you blinked and he was gone for a moment, before the black reptile rose up to meet your gaze. He hadn’t continued to question you.

The presence was unexplainable, physically so big in the space but even just the idea of him just seemed to fill up every corner of the place. Moving the sunglasses into your right hand, you tentatively raised up your left.

‘Can... may I? Can I touch?’ You softly asked, mimicking a petting action in the air. Somehow, Crowley let you know that it was okay, pulling your hand towards him with some kind of magnetising energy.

Your fingers lightly brushed the scales on his head and you took a breath so deep you almost triggered hiccups. The texture was confusing, it almost seemed like it was shifting forms by the second- smooth then rough, hard then feather soft, but still always cool as marble. You fully rested your hand down as you glanced along the entire body, once again filling up the entire hallway.

‘Crowley, this is beautiful. I mean that.’ You whispered, transfixed on what you were seeing.

Then, the unimaginable happened. Your hand which had ended up resting on the snake’s head suddenly felt warm.

Was... was he blushing? You decided to test the water slightly more.

‘I didn’t even imagine that anything could be so magnificent but, well. Here you are. So gorgeous.’

Sure enough, another flush felt through your hand.

‘Crowley, are you blushing?’ You giggled. The heat on his face then took another rise, this time enough to hurt you slightly. You drew your hand away instinctually, but with a smile still on your face.

This was now a day worth noting. The day that started with a mouse in a bread bin and some unfortunately placed anger, and ended as the day that you made a snake blush.

And of course, he made you blush too.

A new side of Crowley. One that you couldn’t help but adore.

#good omens one shot #good omens #good omens x reader #crowley x reader #snake crowley #good omens fanfic #reader insert

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years ago

Text

Short Stack

Okay, so I recently started a series called Saving Her Sanity, and I had only gotten one part posted. But the more I reread it, the more I really hated the way I’d written it. So I’m postponing that and starting a different series. It’s gonna be a real rollercoaster ride of emotions, so buckle up.

Pro Hero! KiriBaku x ProHero! Fem! Reader

**18+ Fic**

Warnings: Angst, fluff, habitual self-harm, dissociation, swearing from obvious sources, alcohol. Coming up in later parts: smexy times, biting kink, double penetration, unprotected sex, more angst, traumatic past (but not super detailed cuz I can’t handle that shit my heart hurts already)

Word Count: 6.9k

Author’s Note: Alright folks, the reader is a fucking savage and stronger than the fucking hulk cause why the fuck not? Tbh body type isn’t discussed, the only thing is that she’s short af and the angry pomeranian and redhead boulder are freaking giants. Also, everyone’s in their mid-late twenties here.

Part 2 - Part 3

Enjoy the read!

You dove out of the way of chunks of concrete, barely making it behind the corner of the alleyway. You took off sprinting, hopefully drawing the villain away from civilian activity. Thankfully he chased after you, onto an abandoned street, out in the open where you had the upper hand. Twirling around, you materialized a scythe and swung it straight at the enormous arm coming at you, nearly chopping off the villain’s fist completely.

He stopped in his tracks and howled in pain, giving you the opening you needed. You charged him and dropped to the ground, taking his legs out as you slid under him. A chain materialized in place of the scythe and you wrapped it around his ankles and his undamaged hand, hog tying him in place. You’d only been fighting the villain for about five minutes, and backup wasn’t going to be there for at least another two, so you put a quirk cancelling cuff on him and began to wrap his bleeding wrist to keep him from bleeding out.

As you waited for backup, you sat down and leaned against the villain, who’d passed out from blood loss, and tended to your own wounds from the encounter. Backup arrived, but it wasn’t what you expected. Instead of police, stomping toward you was none other than the number two hero Ground Zero. His vermillion eyes glanced between you and the villain that was quite literally twice your size, and the expression on his face looked ever so slightly confused at the scene he was witnessing.

He stopped at your feet, glaring down at you for a few seconds, looked back at the villain, then back at you, and when he opened his mouth to speak the most absurd thing you’d ever heard came from his lips.

“How the hell did you do that?”

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, slightly irritated at the implication behind the question. Without a word, you stood up and dusted the dirt off your butt. You walked a few yards away, pulled out your phone and dialed the police, making sure they came with a vehicle that could fit the huge villain. When you turned back around to face Ground Zero, you didn’t expect him to be so close to you. He leaned down so you were face to face, narrowing his eyes at you and letting out what sounded like a growl. “I don’t like being ignored, dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes and glared right back at him. “Well I don’t like to be undermined, Ground Zero. I may be small but I can handle myself in a fight.” And it was true. You were very small, at a whopping 5 feet tall (152 cm). His eye twitched and jaw clenched, and you could almost see the steam coming from his ears. Before he could retort, you saw something being launched from behind him. You swung your leg under him and pinned him to the ground just in time to dodge a manhole cover as it whizzed above your heads.

Without hesitation you launched toward the second villain that appeared and quickly had him immobilized and cuffed on the ground next to the first. You turned back to the number two hero, who was still on the ground watching you with wide eyes. You walked over and held your hand out to him, offering to help him up. To your surprise he actually grabbed your hand and let you pull him to stand. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead looking at it, bewildered.

“Can I have my hand back?” you looked at him blankly. He blinked a few times before releasing his grip. Soon the police arrived to take the villains, and once they left, you began to walk back to the agency since your patrol had ended a little while ago. Ground Zero ran after you and grabbed you by the wrist, turning you around to face him.

“What’s your name?” You raised an eyebrow at the man. “My hero name is Inventory. Now If you don’t mind, I’ve got paperwork to fill out.” He let go of your arm and walked alongside you. You knew why he was walking with you, seeing as you worked as a hero at his agency. As you walked into the building he turned to you with a quizzical look. Without even glancing in his direction you gave a small sigh. “Why am I not surprised that you don’t even know I work under you?”

He seemed slightly shocked. He made it a point to know who was working for him. After all, he couldn’t have anybody screwing up his agency’s reputation. Somehow, though, you’d managed to slip under his radar. Though considering your stature, hero rank, and the fact that you hadn’t made a single mistake since your debut, he figured he’d just brushed you off.

After you filled out all your paperwork, you changed out of your hero costume and into workout clothes and hit the agency’s gym. Like you always did, you went straight to the separate room reserved for sparring, expecting to have to go back out and find a partner. Today, though, you didn’t. As you entered the room, there was a certain angry blonde and a very muscular red-haired man sitting against the wall.

“Well if it isn’t short stack” Ground Zero called out to you. Well that’s one way to get you mad. You tilted your head sharply to one side, then the other, your neck popping loudly as you took a deep breath to calm your anger. “Hello, Ground Zero. I didn’t expect you to be in here. I’ll just leave you to it then.” The irritation seeped into your voice as you turned around to leave the room.

Of course, the jackass had to go and say something else. “What? You too scared to spar against me? Am I too big for you to handle?” God damn it. You both knew you had taken down much larger opponents than him, and you knew it wasn’t very smart to fight your boss, but at this point you were pissed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose.

He stood up and began stalking towards you, his heavy footsteps ringing in your ears. You dropped your duffel and whirled around, walking to him and meeting him in the middle of the room. At least sparring was only hand-to-hand combat, because you knew he’d easily overpower you if he could use his quirk. But you trained almost exclusively in hand-to-hand, because your quirk wasn’t combat related.

As you dropped into your fighting stance, he narrowed his eyes at you, clearly confused at the odd stance you were in. In all your years of training, you had developed your very own fighting style. He quickly shrugged off his confusion and put his arms up in front of his face, ready for whatever you were about to throw at him. The two of you stood there, waiting for the other to make the first move. As predicted, his patience ran out and you easily ducked and dodged the first few quick jabs he threw.

He kept throwing punches, each one a little more intense, and you could see he was getting irritated from how you were dodging every single one. Soon enough he was lunging at you with each punch he threw, his anger getting the best of him. Five minutes of him punching and you dodging had him fuming. You hadn’t even thrown a single punch. Still, it was a game of cat and mouse with you dodging everything he threw.

The whole time he’d been aiming at your face and shoulders, keeping his strikes high. But suddenly he launched at you and his right fist aimed straight for your stomach. Got him. You planted your right foot and spun counter-clockwise, grabbed his wrist with your left hand, grabbed his shoulder with your right, and used his own momentum to fling him over your head. He landed on his back with a thud, all the air pushed out of his lungs from the impact.

You knew he’d have to take a few seconds to get up from that, and that meant you won the match in a single move. You stood over his head, smirking down at him. He glared up at you with eyes wide as saucers, wheezing from the throw, and the redhead cackled from his spot against the wall. You kneeled down and hunched over, your noses inches apart, and said, “Still think you’re too big for me to handle?”

Staring down at him, you stood again and walked over to the redhead. “Hi, I’m (y/l/n) (y/n), hero name Inventory.” You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake. He took it and introduced himself as Kirishima Eijirou, a.k.a. Red Riot. You walked back over to Ground Zero and once again held your hand out to help him up. This time, he slapped your hand away and got up himself. “The name’s Bakugou Katsuki,” he said, scowling at you.

Kirishima got up and came over, “Come on Bakugou, don’t be a jerk just cause you lost. Sorry about that (y/l/n), he’s just prideful.” You chuckled lightly, waving it off, “It’s fine. I’ve heard ALL about Ground Zero’s friendly personality and peppy attitude. Anyway, It’s been fun, but I should get going.” Kirishima stopped you before you could walk away. “Hey, (y/l/n), we were gonna go out for drinks after this, you wanna join us?” You looked over to Bakugou, who didn’t give any input, choosing instead to glare at the corner. “Sure I’ll meet you outside in ten.”

You picked up your duffel and went back to the locker room to change into your civilian clothes. The bar was only a couple blocks away, so you all left your stuff in your cars and walked over. Bakugou didn’t say anything the whole way there, still wallowing in his humiliating defeat. You, being the smartass you are, decided to poke the bear.

“Stop sulking Bakugou, I haven’t lost a sparring match since high school. Besides, if we were to use our quirks you’d most likely win the match. You don’t gotta be all depressed about it.” His head snapped toward you and his hands popped and crackled at his sides. It was probably meant to scare you, but you only put your hands up in mock surrender.

When you got to the bar you all ordered your drinks and sat down at a booth. Kirishima looked at you and started asking questions. “So, (y/l/n), if you’re so sure you’d lose to Bakugou’s quirk, what’s yours?” You answered him like you answered everyone else who’d asked you the same question. “Basically, it’s like an inventory in a video game, hence the hero name. I can “store” things in a pocket of space and materialize them whenever I need them,” then you held out your hand and materialized your car keys and cell phone.

His eyes went wide and he started gushing about how cool and convenient that is. Meanwhile, Bakugou just rolled his eyes and mumbled “showoff” under his breath. Kirishima elbowed him and told him to behave, making you giggle at the dynamic of the two. Despite being at a bar, the only one that drank any alcohol was Kirishima. What really shocked you was that he was a terrible lightweight, and getting him to walk back to the agency was proving extremely difficult, because he was leaning nearly all his weight on you and Bakugou didn’t bother to help.

In fact, Bakugou was busy snickering at the sight of you trying to keep Kirishima from stumbling out onto the road and taking you with him. You’d be lying if you said Kirishima wasn’t heavy, but years of weight training and hero work pays off cause you could easily squat over 200 lbs even if you were tiny. So about a block from the agency, you’d had enough of trying to keep Kirishima from falling over and you just stopped walking.

Kirishima was too out of it to notice. But Bakugou turned and started teasing you for not being able to handle the weight. You just rolled your eyes at him. Before Bakugou could move and take him off your hands, you took a deep breath, and hauled Kirishima onto your shoulders in a fireman carry. Bakugou’s jaw dropped, and he froze in place, just staring at the scene in front of him. That both annoyed you and made you extremely proud, cause you just impressed the number two hero. You were sure the scene was at least a little funny, a giant hanging off your tiny frame, but you ignored it.

Once you had Kirishima secured on your shoulders, you started the trek to the agency. Again, Bakugou was completely silent, but you could tell it wasn’t because he was sulking. Once you were back at the agency, Bakugo led you to his car and got Kirishima settled in the back seat while you stretched out your arms, popping your shoulders and neck. You were about to say bye and head back to your car when Bakugou stopped you.

“Thanks for carrying him. It was impressive. Unexpected,” he said, not making eye contact, “And the match earlier…You did good. I haven’t been beat that bad in a while.” It almost looked like he was blushing, but it was so subtle you couldn’t tell. You smiled softly at the compliments. “Thanks, Bakugou. I had fun. I’ll be going now.” You turned to walk to your car, but he stopped you again. “Oi, short stack!” You froze at the name, and turned around with a sickly sweet smile on your face, “Yes, Bakugou?” “What’s your number?” It was your turn to be shocked. But you got over it and recited your number to him as he punched it into his phone.

When you got home it was just after midnight, so you got ready for bed and lay down to sleep. The next few days passed relatively quickly, occasionally running into Kirishima or Bakugou. There wasn’t any villain activity in the area, and your gym time was productive. You got a couple of people to spar with you when you needed it, and spent any extra time weight training.

The next day you were off, just like every day you had off, you went straight to the agency and hit the gym. You spent a solid hour at the punching bag and went to go spar again. This time there were five others in the room, which was extremely rare. Normally the room was empty. Two pairs were already going at it, so you asked the fifth if she wanted to spar.

You’d already worked up a sweat at the punching bag, but you needed the spar, so instead of finishing quickly you made sure to take a couple punches and throw a few before ending the match. You kept the same partner for a few matches, winning each one, and soon the others were watching as you won two more rounds.

The partner you’d been sparring with tapped out to get water, and someone else quickly took her place. You immediately jumped into another match. And then another. And another. Soon they tapped out as well, and by then there were a few more people filing into the room to watch. It confused you, because you’d never seen more than ten people in the padded room, but you ignored it and began another match with yet another partner.

After another few rounds, your new partner tapped out, and you decided it was time to get some water. But it wasn’t until you stepped back out into the center of the room that you realised nobody else was starting a match. Nobody else was sparring with anybody, all their eyes locked on you. As you looked around the room, you noticed it was getting crowded with people, all your previous opponents had already left, and a new opponent stepped out to challenge you.

Now this was strange. Even with your opponent getting into his fighting stance, you looked around the room, confused as to why there were so many people. You dodged a jab, snapping your attention back to your opponent. Well that was a dirty move. At his next swing you ducked under his arm, lunged to his side and swept his legs out from underneath him, ending the match before he could even blink. Playing dirty gets you knocked the fuck out as far as sparring goes for you.

The crowd that had gathered cheered at the quick takedown, and yet another opponent stepped out. You lost track of time, sparring dozens of different opponents, never losing a single match. If you began to tire all you did was end the match quickly to regain energy. After you went to refill your water for what must have been the 20th time, you checked the clock. It was already noon. You’d been sparring for five hours.

When you went back into the room, another opponent waited in the middle. You apologized and said you had to leave, and the crowd dispersed within minutes. You showered and changed, and as you left the locker room you got a text from a number you didn’t recognize.

Oi short stack, what are you doing right now?

Correction, you knew EXACTLY who this was.

You:

Just got out of the gym. Why?

Bakugou:

Where?

You:

At the agency

Why?

You didn’t get a reply, but you didn’t need one, cause Bakugou was waiting for you outside the building, sitting in his car, with Kirishima in the passenger seat. “You haven’t had lunch yet right?” Bakugou asked. You shook your head no. Kirishima spoke this time, “Great! Let’s go eat, I’m starving!” Bakugou rolled his eyes and told you to get in, and you chuckled as you got into the back seat.

During the ride Kirishima asked about your day, and you told him about the strange occurrence while you sparred, with a crowd forming to watch and people popping out of nowhere to challenge your winning streak. “Wow (y/l/n)! You still haven’t lost? I should spar with you and see if I can win!” You giggled at that and agreed to spar with him next time. And you kept reiterating how strange it was that there’d be so many people in the room at once, when normally there’s only a handful at a time.

They both questioned it but soon shrugged it off as Bakugou parked the car in front of the sushi restaurant. Lunch was a whirlwind of Kirishima asking you questions, you asking them questions, and Bakugou bickering at Kirishima when he ignored Bakugou entirely. It was fun seeing the two so close. Eventually the conversation rounded back to your sparring matches earlier.

“So how long were you there? If a crowd formed you had to have been at it for a while.” Kirishima asked, trying to figure out how long you’d fought people. You answered sheepishly, a bit embarrassed that you’d lost track of time so easily, “Well...when I checked the clock it’d been about five hours.” Both of them froze, staring at you with wide eyes. Your face burned and you took a sip of your water. Bakugou was the first to talk. “You’re a fucking beast.” Kirishima’s expression went from shock to concern. “Are you ok? Like, how are you not passed out right now?”

You assured him you were fine, and explained how much time you spent in the gym nearly every day, even after patrol. Your gym time only seemed to surprise them more, and after they told you about their gym schedule, you realised just how much time you spent in the gym, and the more you thought about it, the more you realised how lonely you were.

Kirishima seemed to catch on to your stress and smoothly changed the subject. After lunch, Bakugou drove you back to the agency, and Kirishima asked if you wanted to go to their place for drinks. “Sure, as long as I don’t have to carry you again,” you laughed. Kirishima turned and looked at you, his cheeks nearly as red as his hair. “Wait...you carried me?”.

Bakugou barked out a laugh. “Yeah shitty hair, she threw you over her shoulders and hauled your wasted ass back to the car.” Kirishima’s face somehow burned brighter and apologized profusely, but you waved it off. “Nah, it’s fine! Besides, if Bakugou wasn’t being such an ass I wouldn’t have had to carry you. I just got sick of trying to keep you standing upright while he snickered at me being short.” Bakugo scoffed. “Well you’re definitely not tall.” “I don’t need to be to kick your sorry ass.”

At that Bakugou went silent and Kirishima exploded in a fit of laughter. “Put a sock in it shitty hair! And you!” Bakugou glared at you in the rearview mirror, “I’m gonna beat your stubby ass next time!” You looked at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Ground Zero?” He growled at the mention of his hero name. “Yeah short stack, it’s a fucking challenge.”

Soon the car parked in the parking garage, and you all went up to their shared apartment. It was spacious, and very modern. Bakugou pointed out the bathroom and went to the kitchen to grab three bottles of beer. The three of you settled into the living room and the conversation went just like lunch did. Most of the questions were directed at you, and you answered honestly.

The questions were generic and friendly, what you like to do in your spare time (besides going to the gym), your favorite foods, colors, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves. After the first round of questioning you’d only got through one bottle of beer. “Hey, what other kinds of alcohol you got?” you questioned Bakugou. He got up and listed his menu from the kitchen. You asked him for a glass of the cream liquor, and he returned with a glass filled with the liquid.

After hours of aimless conversation and a few more glasses, you found yourself slowing as the alcohol permeated your system. That was your signal to ask for a snack and water, and you stopped your intake of alcohol. Bakugou caught on to your self cut-off. “You don’t need to limit yourself. We’ve got a spare room if you need to stay the night, and if you need to call in tomorrow the agency has plenty of people to take over your patrol.” His statement shocked you, and you looked at him like he was crazy.

He spoke again, “If you’re cautious about sharing a place with two guys, Kiri’s nearly wasted already, he can’t do shit, and if I were stupid enough to do anything I’m sure you’d kick my ass before I got within a foot of you. As for tomorrow, both of us are off, and like I said, the agency is not short-staffed. And i’ve got meds if you’re worried about a hangover, and I don’t mind lending you clothes if you need them.”

You were stunned. Completely and utterly bewildered. But he made good points, so you decided to take up his offer to spend the night. “You know what, I’ll stay. But I'm gonna slow down with the alcohol, because hangovers are a bitch to deal with even with painkillers.” And with that, the three of you continued talking. Soon Kirishima passed out and Bakugou hauled him into his room. Surprisingly enough, when he came back out he actually engaged the conversation.

He asked about your fighting style, how you developed it, how long you trained. Most of his questioning was about your physical strength and tenacity, nothing personal. But then he asked why you spent so much of your time in the gym instead of with friends. And you answered honestly and bluntly, probably mostly because of the alcohol. “To be honest, I’m not much of a social butterfly. I don’t really have friends, because I don’t ‘make friends’ with people. In fact, you could call me antisocial. I don’t really like talking to people. I don’t speak unless spoken to or unless speaking is necessary.”

And he only dove deeper. “Why not? The world too scary from down there?” he teased. You laughed darkly at the comment, choosing to drain your glass of alcohol in favor of answering the implied question. He looked at you and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“You avoided the question.”

“Well it wasn’t really a question, just a jab at my height again”

“Yeah, and you didn’t jab back.”

You huff, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Just drop it Bakugou.”

“I won’t drop it. Not until you give me some kind of answer.”

“Are you always this insensitive or is it just the alcohol?”

“Spill it (y/l/n).”

“Ugh fine! But I’m not giving you any details.” You crack your knuckles, take a deep breath, and a long drink of water before you talk again. “I used to like making friends. But all the friends I made turned out to be liars and fakes. I was used. A lot. After a while I finally had enough, so I stopped approaching people. I decided if people want to be in my life they can approach me. I got good at reading people, and I shut them out fast if they weren’t good for me.” You sighed, praying that was enough to sate Bakugou’s drunken curiosity. It wasn’t.

“And if people approached you with the intention of using you? If you read them wrong?” he pried. Screw it. You already spilled this much right? Might as well get it out. “I got really good at pretty bad things. I don’t usually read wrong, because I’m suspicious of everyone that walks into my life.” Internally, you prayed that was enough for him. “What kinds of bad things?” Well that’s unfortunate.

“Things like eavesdropping. Spying. Hiding. Manipulation. Lying. Deceit. Long story short, I have trust issues. It’s easier to keep people at arm’s distance than make friends that could hurt you.” At that, Bakugou goes quiet, his eyes studying your face. And you stare back at him, waiting for the judgement that comes with opening up to people. Waiting for the ‘maybe you should openup more’ and ‘just give people a chance’. But his answer is unexpected. His face softens ever so slightly as his eyes lock onto yours, his voice low, soft and somewhat comforting. “Sounds rough.” You look away, trying to keep your breathing steady, not giving tears the chance to fall, “I’m gonna turn in. Good night, Bakugou.”

Moving quickly, you disappear into the spare room and curl up into the bed sheets. Why the hell are you crying? You’d talked about this before. So why now, of all times, are you suddenly sobbing into your hoodie, clinging to it like your lifeline? You try your best to keep quiet, hoping the only other person awake doesn’t hear you. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you hear the door handle turn, and you freeze, closing your eyes and steadying your breath, going completely silent in mock-sleep. It was a technique you’d perfected long ago, turning off your emotionsin order to avoid confrontation.

You hear heavy footsteps, knowing who it is that just stepped in. He was the only other one still awake. You feel the bed behind you dip, and strong arms curl around you and turn your body, burying your face into Bakugou’s solid chest. His deep voice rumbles softly in your ear. “I know you’re not sleeping shorty. I listened through the door and heard you crying. Just let it out.” And before you can stop them, the tears you’d willed to disappear begin to pour down your face. So you sob into his chest, his arms tightening around you as your entire body shakes.

Soon you’re drifting into sleep, your body giving in to exhaustion. You’re in a deep sleep, and Bakugou stays there, holding you, until the last hiccups subside. He leans away to look down at you, and brushes strands of hair away from your face. “How long has it been since you’ve cried, princess? How long since you bottled up those emotions inside you?” He questions your sleeping figure. He presses a soft kiss into your forehead, gets up and tucks you under the blanket before silently leaving the room and going to bed.

When you wake up, your eyelids are heavy and swollen, making it hard to open them. You tenderly massage them open, remembering the reason they’re so puffy and sore. Despite the discomfort of your eyes, you feel refreshed and light, a weight lifted off your chest that you didn’t know was there in the first place. No, it was more like it’s been there for so long you’d gotten used to the pressure. Slowly, you sit up and blink away sleep.

You check the clock and it’s 8 am, a couple hours later than you normally get up. At the foot of your bed is a set of folded clothes. You quickly change out of the clothes you slept in, and into the t-shirt and sweatpants that you assumed were Bakugou’s. As expected, they’re giant on you, but they’re comfortable, and they smell like Bakug-- NO. Stop. You shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it came and go out to see if either of the guys are up.

You quickly get your answer when you see Kirishima lounging -- freaking SHIRTLESS -- on the couch. Talk about eye candy, damn. Like sure, his hero costume doesn’t exactly hide anything, but it’s different when he’s laying across a couch in nothing but gray sweatpants. Again, you clear the thoughts before they screw you over, and greet him. “Hey (y/l/n) how’d you sleep?” “Pretty good, thanks. I’m surprised you’re up so early Kiri.” He laughs at the observation, “Yeah. Bakugou got me up a little while ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep.” Yeah, that makes sense. You nod and make your way into the kitchen, and as expected, Bakugo is there.

“Good morning Bakugou,” you greet him. “Morning shorty. How’d you sleep?” You answer with the same reply you gave Kirishima a few seconds ago. You lowered your voice a little and leaned slightly toward him, “Thank you, by the way. For last night. I really needed that.” He just nods, focusing his attention to the fridge to find breakfast. Satisfied with that, you turn and head back to the couch and chill with Kirishima until Bakugou calls you to the table to eat.

You ask them what they do on their days off, and today the plan was just to stay in and lounge around the house, not doing much of anything and just relaxing. So, that’s what you did. As the hours passed, you found yourself liking the company of the two men, despite their imposing size. You didn’t feel small with them. But the question lingering at the back of your mind was why? Why were you so comfortable around them?

Thoughts buzzed around in your head like a hurricane, mixing with the doubt that they were in any way comfortable with you, and the fear that they were only using you for what men always seem to want. Soon you were telling yourself all the bad scenarios that would end in them leaving you all alone again. You didn’t even know them all that well, but you had become attached and were already bracing yourself for the inevitable loss of the two. The memory of crying to Bakugou last night swirled into your mind and wouldn’t disappear.

You were spiraling into a panic like you always did when people got close. But it was hidden, suppressed, contained. Whenever you panicked it never showed, the only telltale sign being your sudden need to scratch the soft flesh on the inside of your elbow. You hadn’t scratched in so long that any previous wounds had completely healed over, the only evidence left were small patches of discoloration, only evident if you stare long enough. That was about to change as your nails dug furiously while you stared off into space.

Kirishima was the first to snap you out of your spiral, grabbing your wrists and shaking you out, calling your name frantically. Your senses began to drift back, and the next thing you noticed was the sting on your forearms and the light stain of blood on your nails and fingertips. Your eyes drifted from your wrist up to your inner elbow, and you winced at the sight of blood seeping out of the shredded welts. It looked like it should have hurt more than it did.

“Bakugou! Get the first aid kit from the bathroom! (y/l/n)’s bleeding!” Kirishima called out to him. You heard quick heavy stomps and a curse from the blonde before he came over to examine your arms. He looked at you, and you looked back at him, still dazed from your inner turmoil. He knew from that look you were out of it. Instead he questioned the redhead to ask what had happened while he was in the kitchen figuring out what to make for lunch.

“I don’t know! I was watching tv and when I turned to ask her something she was staring off into space and scratching at her arms! She was bleeding before I even turned and I grabbed her before it could get worse.” Bakugou clenched his jaw and went to get a wet washcloth to clean up the blood. You were watching this all unfold before you, still not quite attached to reality. When he returned, he put the cloth on his lap and grabbed your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with calloused thumbs. He called your voice, attempting to ground you, and didn’t stop until you finally took a few quick breaths and blinked, answering him with a small ‘sorry’.

He grabbed your wrists, which Kirishima had already released, and spoke to you in a hushed tone, but still strong and intense. “(y/l/n) I need you to listen to me. Are you allergic to anything? Anything at all?” It took a few moments for you to regain your mental balance, but you shook your head. “No. Nothing.” He let out a soft breath and with that he began to clean and dress your arms, wiping away blood and cleaning your fingers and nails in silent concentration.

By the time the entire ordeal was over, the different sensations from the sting of the alcohol wipes to the cool ointment and the soft gauze had grounded you completely. As Bakugou went to put the first aid kit away, Kirishima reached out and gripped your shoulders, looking over your face and into your eyes with tender concern. “You okay little pebble?” He moved his large hands so they rested at the sides of your neck, his thumbs gently brushing at your jaw.

You blush lightly at the endearing nickname and the new sensation of his hands. Leaning slightly into one of his palms, you nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t really wanna talk about it, but I’ll be just fine. I just got distracted.” He looked at you with a face that said he didn’t believe your excuse, but he’d drop the subject because you asked him to. Letting his hand release you, he gives you a toothy, mischievous grin. He leans in closer to you and nearly whispers, like he was about to reveal the world’s biggest scandal.

“That was the most gentle I’ve ever seen Bakugou. Thanks for bringing that side out of him,” he says, flashing another smile. You giggle a little at the thought of the explosive male being gentle, not quite believing it if you hadn’t been subject to it. Then you remembered why he’d been there, tending to the wounds you’d subconsciously inflicted on yourself. Your eyebrows knitted together lightly, remembering the spiral and being shaken out of it by a panicked Kirishima. When Bakugou came back, you grabbed one of their hands in each of yours.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you say softly. After a few moments of silence, you decided you owed them an explanation of some kind. “And thank you for catching me. The scratching is a nervous habit when I’m stressed. I thought I got rid of it, but obviously I haven’t. It’s been a long time since it happened last, and it was triggered by my own drifting thoughts. It’s purely subconscious and I don’t realize what I’m doing until the pain becomes too unbearable and snaps me back to reality.”

By the end of your explanation, the two were looking at you with concern and understanding. Kirishima gently smiled, and Bakugou’s features relaxed, when you squeezed their hands appreciatively. The comfortable silence was suddenly broken by a low growl. You laughed at the comedic timing of your stomach and glanced at the clock. It was just after 12:30, and Bakugou got up to go make lunch. After eating you asked to wash your clothes, and asked to use the shower. Kirishima got you a spare towel and plastic wrap to cover your newly dressed forearms. Five minutes under the hot water and you were already feeling suffocated. The steam clouded your lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You knew you had a problem with hot water. You always have. Jacuzzis were never relaxing for you, and you loved the cool water of the ocean the deeper you dove toward inky blackness. You turned the handle in the shower, letting the water turn cold. Your body shivered slightly from the sudden temperature change, but quickly relaxed as the cold water washed away all the stress from a few hours ago.

When you had finished up you went to go relax on the couch again, settling into the space between the two. Now with your mind clear, you began to wonder something that you probably should have wondered a while ago. How tall were they, really? They stood over a foot taller than you, so they had to be at least 6 feet tall. You looked from one to the other, your head swiveling back and forth, before you decided to just ask them.

Bakugou barked out a deep laugh, “Why you wanna know shorty? Finally realizing how scary we look from down there?” You rolled your eyes at him, but he answered anyway. “I’m 6 foot 4 (193 cm).” Kirishima looked down at you and beamed, “I’m 6 foot 6 (198 cm).” Bakugou scoffed, and you giggled at the blonde getting upset over height. Suddenly you bounced up from the couch and turned to the two, barely containing the thought that suddenly popped into your mind. Out of the two, the redhead seemed like the more likely to carry out your request, so you turned to Kirishima with wide excited eyes and a lopsided grin like a kid in a candy store.

“Can you carry me?!” you blurted out a little too loud. Kirishima blushed hard, and then you realized how ridiculous the request sounded and rushed to explain. “Sorry! That sounded weird right? I just wanna know what life looks like from that high up! I’m only 5 feet tall so…” you rambled a little before Kirishima laughed and stood up. “Sure little pebble.” He turned you around and squatted down, put his left arm around your waist and right arm against your thighs just above your knees and told you to lean back and sit on his arm.

Once you were seated snugly, your back pressed against his chest, he stood up and you gasped a little from the new angle. The floor looked so far away, and you knew that if Kirishima decided to hold you by your armpits your feet would dangle a foot from the floor. Bakugou looked up at you from the couch and scoffed. “Alright shitty hair, put her down before you drop her and she breaks her legs from the fall.” Your hilariously rebellious brain took that as a challenge. You smirked at Bakugou, his eyes daring you to do exactly what you were thinking. But before you could move he looked at the redhead behind you, and the arm around your waist tightened as he reached to grab his right bicep. He slightly activated his quirk, locking you in place.

“Aw, c’mon! You’re no fun! I’ve jumped from buildings before and landed perfectly fine!” You whined as you squirmed in Kirishima’s arms. Both of them laughed at your struggle, and once again, your brain instantly settled on ‘challenge accepted’. You quickly surveyed your surroundings, going about the best way to escape Red Riot without damaging any of the heroes’ property.

Before either of them could react, you materialized quirk-cancelling handcuffs and clasped one side around Kirishima's left wrist. The instant it went into effect, you brought your foot up and back down into the redhead’s stomach just hard enough for his grip on you to loosen up. When his right arm dropped to grab his abdomen, you slipped down along his body, grabbed the free cuff on your way down and snapped it around the leg of the coffee table, Kirishima landing flat on his ass with an ‘oof’.

Once again, Bakugou just stared in shock. You crossed your arms and smirked at him, “What was that about dropping me, Bakugou?” He was silent. Kirishima chuckled from his spot on the ground. “Damn, you’re a sneaky one little pebble.” You turned back around and took a deep bow. You materialized the cuff’s key and released him, storing them back in your quirk’s storage space. Finally recovering from his shock, Bakugou looked at the time and said, “Alright, short stack. Let’s go spar.” You turned to him and spoke what your brain had thought only moments before. “Challenge accepted.”

#kiribaku x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima bnha #bakugou bnha

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