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sluttywonwoo · 3 years ago

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the bet || j.ww x reader

Summary: you help your boyfriend’s best friend win a bet against your better judgement

Warnings: swearing, lil bit of jealousy, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

“Hey, can I ask a huge favor?”

You hoisted yourself up from your beach towel onto your elbows and pulled down your sunglasses to glare at the boy in front of you. You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. What could Kim Mingyu possibly want from you?

“What is it?”

He ran a hand through his still-wet hair awkwardly. “Um, the boys and I are about to play a game of volleyball, and we’ve bet some money on it…”

“Okay?”

“And, well, it’s me and Hansol against Wonwoo, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan. Wonwoo’s their best player and I was wondering if you could distract him? So that we have a better chance of winning?”

“Distract him… how?” you asked, not fully understanding.

“You know… whatever it is you do that drives Wonwoo crazy. He’s your boyfriend, I’m sure you know how to wind him up.”

“You mean you want me to get him hard during your game?”

Mingyu nearly choked at that. “Um, I mean pretty much, yeah. Just do something that will throw him off his game.”

“So you want me to help you guys cheat?”

“It’s not technically cheating.”

“I think your definition of cheating is much looser than mine.”

“So is that a no?” he asked.

You thought about it for a second. “Is there anything in it for me?”

“We’ll give you a cut of the winnings.”

You found yourself grinning. “How much did you guys bet?”

“Two hundred if they win, three hundred if we win. Basically whoever’s on the losing team has to cough up a hundred bucks.”

“Jeez, I can’t believe Wonwoo is risking that much on a stupid game.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, it’s his money he can do whatever he wants with it. I just think he’s a dumbass.”

“Not arguing with that.”

“Do you need me to remind you that you’re betting the same amount?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “So you’ll do it? For a hundred?”

“Yeah, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Pleasure doing business.” Mingyu smirked and held out his hand for you to shake. You rolled your eyes at the formality but shook his hand anyway, just as Wonwoo came up to the both of you and clapped Mingyu on the shoulder.

“What are my best mate and my best girl talking about?” he asked, leaning down to kiss you.

“I wanted to go swimming, but Mingyu said you guys are about to play volleyball?” You piped up before Mingyu could say anything. Maybe you should’ve felt guiltier than you did about lying to your boyfriend and for what you were about to do, but hey, a hundred dollars was a hundred dollars . And if everything went according to plan, you’d be getting some good dick too. A win win.

Wonwoo frowned a little bit. “Oh yeah, sorry. Wanna play, love?” he offered. “There’s still some room on Mingyu’s team.”

You made a face. “What about your team? Can’t you make one of your other team members switch?”

He winced. “I love you, y/n, but you’re shit at sports.”

Any trace of remorse left over what you’d agreed to do dissolved in that moment. He fucking deserved what he was about to get.

“The stupid game is that important to you? Asshole,” you scoffed, and put your sunglasses back on before laying back down on the towel.

“Y/n,” Wonwoo whined, and crouched down next to you. “I-”

“Go play your fucking game.”

He stood back up, but lingered for a moment. You could tell he felt bad, but you weren’t having it. “Wanna go swimming after?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Sure, whatever.”

You could tell he’d walked away when the shadow over you disappeared. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you were a little pissed about the comment he’d made. Were you shit at sports? Yes, definitely, but could he have at least pretended to love you enough to be on the same team as you? Also yes. He should’ve known you were going to say no anyway.

While you were still fuming you hadn’t even realized the boys had started the game. Not even a minute in and you were already slacking on your end of the bet. You propped yourself back up for a moment to watch. You could see why Mingyu had asked for your help. Wonwoo and his team were dominating so far, and you couldn’t help but admire how fit your boyfriend looked as he served the ball to the other side of the court. You licked your lips absentmindedly, ready to pull him back to the car right fucking then.

You forced yourself to stop watching the game stood up from your towel, brushed yourself off, and began walking towards the water. You made sure to pull your bikini bottoms as far up your ass as you could in the process just to get Wonwoo’s attention as you walked past the volleyball net. Sure, you’d agreed to go swimming with him after the match, but you’d never promised to wait for him.

As you made your way down to the shore, you noted that not only Wonwoo’s head turned to watch you walk, but all five of the boys cast their attention away from the game and towards you. You glanced behind your shoulder for a second, and caught Mingyu’s smirk. He took advantage of Wonwoo’s lapse in concentration to spike the ball back over to their side and score a point.

You heard some yelling and protestation, but pretended to ignore it and continued to wade into the water.

It was warmer than you thought it would be, and deeper. There was a steep drop a few feet in that you might have tripped over if you weren’t careful. You only ended up staying in the ocean for a few minutes; Wonwoo couldn’t really get distracted by you if your whole body was submerged underwater. You weren’t there to swim around anyway, just to get your bathing suit wet so it would stick to your body.

You’d worn one that didn’t have pads in it so you knew that once you got out of the water the whole beach would be able to see your nipples poking through the fabric. You didn’t have a problem with that. Wonwoo might.

While you were down there you got your hair wet too, just for good measure. Might as well pull out all the stops since a hundred dollars were on the line.

You weren’t sure what the score was by the time you made your way back up to your towel, but you didn’t make an effort to ask. What you did know, though, was that Wonwoo was getting frustrated. Even from where you were you could see that his jaw was clenched and his brows were furrowed.

The opposing team seemed to be doing just fine though, and you stopped to watch them high-five each other after Mingyu scored another point by slamming the ball over the net onto Wonwoo side of the court.

“Damn, nice one, Gyu!” you called out from where you were standing, giving him a big smile and thumbs up. It was sort of dorky, not to mention a cheap shot, but if you knew Wonwoo as well as you thought you did, it’d be the perfect thing to rile him up.

“Thanks, y/n!” he shouted back and winked, ignoring the weird look Hansol gave him. “It’s about time you started rooting for the winning team!”

You struggled not to laugh when you looked back over to the other side of the court and saw all three boys scowling at Mingyu. You didn’t even know why he needed you in the first place, he knew how to push their buttons so well already.

Wonwoo’s fists were clenched now, and he looked this close to tackling his best friend to the ground. The two of you weren’t even flirting with each other, not really, but Wonwoo was the most competitive person you knew and it wasn’t always the best color on him. For you to be cheering for the team that he’s not on, and for that team to be winning- there was no doubt in your mind that he was royally pissed. Not to mention, that you just so happened to be cheering for his attractive best friend who may or may not have mentioned having sex dreams about you once or twice in passing.

It was good, but it wasn’t enough. Soonyoung made some offhand comment about how close the scores were so you knew you needed to keep going. You turned your attention away from the game again and lowered yourself down on your stomach on top of your towel and casually undid the strings of your bikini top to “sunbathe”.

If anyone asked it was so you didn’t get tan lines on your back, it was something that a lot of women did. In reality, however, you didn’t give a shit about tan lines, you just wanted to see how Wonwoo would react.

You pulled out your book to read while you tanned, tuning back into the game every once and a while to see how it was going. You could hear Soonyoung and Seungkwan yelling at Wonwoo to ‘pay attention’ or ‘snap the fuck out of it’ and smiled to yourself, excited for what was to come.

After several more minutes, your bathing suit was almost dry and you were starting to fall asleep on your towel. The volleyball game was taking way longer than you anticipated and you just wanted Mingyu and Hansol to win already. You didn’t have any other ideas to distract your boyfriend so you hoped they could pull it off.

Then, what you would call a fucking miracle happened. You were still nearly dozing off on top of your book when a pink Frisbee landed on the sand right in front of your face.

“Sorry about that!” called the voice of its owner and you squinted to see him jogging over to you. A few of his friends weren’t far behind and they all congregated in a little group in front of your towel. They looked to be about your age, maybe a little older. “Sorry to wake you up,” the ringleader apologized again, but smiled like he wasn’t really that sorry.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, one hand holding your loose bikini to your chest, while the other handed the Frisbee back to smiling guy. “No worries, I didn’t mean to fall asleep anyway.”

“What’s your name?” Ringleader asked. “I’m Jeonghan, and these are some of my fraternity brothers.”

Of course. You should’ve guessed. They were all jacked, tan, and had an air of privilege about them that you couldn’t miss. They were objectively cute, sure, but nothing in comparison to your boyfriend playing volleyball behind you. Not to mention their pack mentality freaked you out a little.

“I’m y/n,” you said and held your free hand out to them to shake, still keeping your other hand on your bikini top so you wouldn’t flash them. “Are you guys on a holiday break or something?”

“Yeah, just trying to make the most out of our last few days.”

“You from around here?” another boy asked, not being subtle at all in the way he was eyeing you.

“No, we just took a little day trip,” you explained and cleared your throat, wondering how long they’d stick around and when Wonwoo was going to come over and dick you down out of jealousy.

“We?” Ringlea- Jeonghan asked, cocking his head to the side. “Are you here with your friends?”

“Her boyfriend, actually,” Wonwoo piped up calmly from behind you. You looked back and saw him standing a few feet behind your towel with his arms crossed. He could be annoying, but fuck if he didn’t have good timing.

“Oh-uh, well I was nice to meet you.” Jeonghan mumbled abruptly and nodded to his friends to get back to their Frisbee game. They were gone before you could even say goodbye back.

“Attracting all sorts of attention today, aren’t you, love?” Wonwoo sneered and knelt down beside you.

His words went straight to the heat between your legs and you turned over onto your back to get a better look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, daring him to challenge you.

“I think you do, y/n,” he continued. The way he whispered your name sent a shiver down your spine. “I mean, you’re practically naked in front of the whole beach right now.”

“I’m wearing a swimsuit.”

“You know what I mean. And all for what? To make me jealous? So I’d fuck you? Because you could’ve just asked, baby.”

You whimpered, but didn’t say anything and leaned up to kiss him, desperately wanting to feel his lips against yours. He leaned in too, but stopped just short of your mouth, pulling back a bit to look into your eyes. “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.”

You moaned softly, wanting nothing more than for him to do exactly that. You weren’t even sure if you could wait to get home at this point, you wanted him inside of you now. He put a hand on each knee and spread your legs apart, whistling in awe at the wet spot on your bathing suit. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment. “I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet.”

“All because of you,” you panted, reaching out for him, but he pulled back.

“You know all of your teasing made me lose the game, right? I couldn’t focus because I was so distracted.” You nodded. “I was so fucking hard the whole match because of what you were doing”

And then your dumbass had to open your big mouth. “So Mingyu told you?”

Wonwoo pulled back, and gave you a confused look, clearly caught off guard. “Told me what?”

“Y/n, that was incredible, you were perfect!” Mingyu exclaimed as he ran up to you and Wonwoo, holding out a hundred dollar bill to you.

You winced as you took it, wishing you hadn’t said anything.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” Wonwoo demanded, even more frustrated than he had been a minute ago. “What were you incredible at?”

“Fucking distracting you, dude. I asked her if she’d be in on the bet with me for a cut of the winnings since you guys had more team members.”

Your boyfriend glared at you. “Is that true?”

“I mean, it’s just a game… and I thought it’d be fun,” you said quietly.

“That’s what you guys were talking about earlier, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, she didn’t need any convincing she was totally down-”

“Mingyu,” you interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose, “please, if you have any mercy for my pussy please shut the fuck up.”

His face went scarlet and he shut his mouth without further comment.

“So that’s it?” Wonwoo asked, obviously not ready to drop the subject yet. “You’re just gonna sell out your own boyfriend that easy?”

“You said you didn’t want to be on a team with me!”

“Don’t turn this around on me! You’re the one who helped them cheat!”

“Oh I don’t know if I’d call it cheating,” Mingyu interjected again.

“Shut up, Mingyu!” you and Wonwoo both shouted.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Mingyu said quietly. “If I had known it was going to be this big of a deal I wouldn’t have asked her. I just thought I was being clever, that it’d be a fun way to beat you guys, but I’m sorry I went too far.”

Wonwoo sighed and ran a hand through his wet curls. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“So… we’re good?” Mingyu asked, holding out a hand to help Wonwoo up.

“Yeah, we’re good. Next time, though, we’re playing fair.”

“Deal.”

“Y/n, you still want to go swimming, love?” Wonwoo asked, turning back to you.

“We’re not- we’re not going home?” Despite everything you were still incredibly horny, and you’d been patiently waiting for Wonwoo to rail you for what felt like hours now.

“Not yet,” he said and helped you to your feet. “Let’s make the most of our beach day.”

“I think the rest of us are going to find an ice cream shop,” Mingyu added. “Winners are buying. Do either of you want anything?”

“No thanks, we’ll hang out here by ourselves for a while.” Wonwoo answered for the both of you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist as you walked down to the water together and you relaxed, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin on yours. Only once you were out of Mingyu’s earshot did he lean down and whisper “your ass is going to be seven shades of red for that little stunt once we get home,” in your ear. Now it was your turn to be distracted.

lmk what you thought; i always appreciate feedback)

wonwoo tags: @wonw00t

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#the bet #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonu x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut

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cripplingaddictions · 4 years ago

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Oikawa x Reader: Support

Summary: When Oikawa’s knee plays up during the final set, it costs his team the game. He’s distraught, but you come down from the stands to put him at ease. You try your best to comfort him, being both his physical and emotional support.

Rating: SFW

Genre: Fluff, angst, comfortttt (my fav)

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is the second thing I’ve written for Oikawa to do with injuries... He’s had free rent in my brain for the last couple of days. Warning: this is unedited, sorry

Echoing cheers filled your ears, the large gatherings of supporters filling the stadium. Everyone’s hearts were in their ears, thumping like the drums many teams’ supporters had brought.

The game had been tight, Seijoh having been pushed into a tight spot. It was the final set, having lost the first and catching up in the second. Both sets had slipped into a Duce, this set one point away.

You were there to support Seijoh, or more specifically, your boyfriend. He’d given you his spare jersey to wear to cheer him on, the large number 1 attracting attention from many of his fangirls. It was situations like these you wished Oikawa wasn’t as flashy, not having to plaster that you were his right across your chest. However, you quickly forgot that you were wearing it, and so did his fans, completely sucked into the game.

Even though you sat so far away, you could see how exhausted both teams seemed. Both of them were so determined to win that you were almost concerned that they would push themselves over the edge.

More specifically, you were worried about Oikawa.

Recently, he had been expressing concern for his knee. You’d try telling him to take it easy once in a while if it was causing him that much trouble, but you knew he wouldn’t listen.

Now, watching him run backwards and forwards across the court begged for you to stare at his knee, as if the eye contact would miraculously heal it. The white knee brace stood out among the black pads, only an inescapable reminder that wouldn’t let you forget. But, you feared Oikawa had; too caught up in the moment.

Biting your bottom lip, you watched and waited as he set the ball to Iwaizumi for their quick. The blockers were inaccurate, resulting in the ball blasting through to the other side. A sloppy receive caused the ball to shoot off to the side, Seijoh receiving the point. It placed them in Duce.

You began to grow impatient, wondering how long it would go on for. The slight wobble in Oikawa’s run made you think that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if the next two points ended the game, Seijoh’s or not Seijoh’s.

Mattsun served, hoping to keep the momentum going. His serve was received, the opposing libero placing the ball in the perfect place for the setter. After the ball spun into the air, their ace spiked it. Oikawa and Iwaizumi leaped up to block, the ball passing through. Makki received it, putting it in place for Oikawa.

Your heart clenched as he moved to set. His jaggered movements twisted his knee and you could see the wince on Oikawa’s face as the shock of the knee pain kicking in.

He staggered, falling to the ground. Iwaizumi turned to him when he heard a sharp inhale from his setter. The ball bounced on their side of the court, and the whistle blew.

Springing to your feet, you ran to the rail and leaned over it. Oikawa sat on the ground, Iwaizumi kneeling next to him. You watched as Iwaizumi wrapped one of Oikawa’s arms around his neck and led him off the court. Your boyfriend shot a tiny glance in your direction, before turning to watch where his feet were going. The glisten of regret in his eyes made your lip quiver.

The hobble in his walk over to the bench caused you to take off down the stairs closest to the Seijoh cheer squad. Breathing heavily, you sprinted around the gymnasium, hoping that you’d be allowed onto the court. Instead, you didn’t care. You needed to get to Oikawa.

When you reached the place where he stood, shaking his head at his coach. Iwaizumi argued too, his voice loud enough to hear. They wanted him to go to the medical wing, but Oikawa was refusing.

You sighed, walking hurriedly to stand next to Oikawa. He saw you coming, forcing on a fake smile.

“Ah, Y/N-chan!”

Before he could continue, you frowned at him and he closed his mouth. You looked his coach dead in the eyes.

“He can’t go to the medical wing; he can barely walk,” you said sternly, taking Oikawa’s hand in your own, “He’ll sit here with ice.”

You immediately regretted your tone, especially with the way coach judged you. His eyebrows were raised halfway up his forehead, obviously surprised with your assertiveness.

“Y/N-chan’s right, coach,” Oikawa laughed awkwardly, “They take good care of me.”

His coach laughed, “Good to see that he has you and Iwaizumi to keep him in check. Sit him down.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, slipping out from under Oikawa’s arm to let you take him place. The entire time it took you to take him over to the bench, he was smiling and chatting your ear off.

“I think we were playing well, Y/N-chan, don’t ya think? Man, it’s been a tough game. Shame this got in the way.”

You let him spew words, well aware that this was the way that he was covering up his hurt. Both physical and mental pain lingered over him, the tiny tears welling in his eyes the give away to you.

Having him around your shoulder allowed for you to easily manoeuvre him over to the bench. The limp in his step slowed you down slightly. Once you reached the bench, you carefully moved around to let him sit down. Kneeling before him, you let him raise his leg up so that his foot rested on your knee to elevate it slightly. You knew that the manager hurried to collected a bag of ice to place on his knee, so you stayed put.

Oikawa was far enough away from the team to suddenly let his guard down. The smile from his face dropped, as he took the damp towel his coach handed him. He placed it over his head, staring down at his lap. Avoiding your eyes, he clenched his fists and let his tears fall.

“Hey, Toru,” reached up to grab his hand, “Look at me, please.”

You wished you could get closer to him, but his foot resting on your knee prohibited you from moving.

He ignored you, and you sighed. Instead of pressuring him, you detached your hand from his hold. His fingers reached out with the absence of your warmth, but you continued with what you wanted to do.

Delicately, you pulled down his knee brace, shifting it down to his ankle. Air hitting his knee, Oikawa flinched slightly. You felt a little guilty, so you brought your hand back up to grab his. The soft skimming of your thumb over his knuckles soothed him, his small sniffles ceasing slightly.

Right as you were about to talk to him once again, his manager approached you. In his hands were a bag of ice and a fluffy towel. You thanked him and took the objects from him with your free hand.

After wrapping the ice in the towel and balancing it on Oikawa’s knee, you began to speak to him again.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you whispered, almost in an attempt of humour.

The use of his favourite nickname - that usually went to his head - received a little bit of attention. The towel over his head shifted as he looked up at you. His eyes were puffy and red, tear tracks staining his cheeks.

Your heart shattered, so you gestured for him to lean down to you. He did as he was told, the towel shielding his face. You reached out to wipe the tears from his cheeks with your knuckle, cooing at him softly.

“Look at you... you’re so handsome,” you tried to lift his mood in the best way you knew how, “Your tears and this towel are stopping me from seeing your face. I know you’re embarrassed, baby, I know.”

Oikawa shook his head, “I cost us the game because I didn’t listen to you telling me to take it easy. It hurts, Y/N-chan...”

“No, don’t “Y/N-chan” me, Toru,” you knew that being stern is the only way to get through to him, but to take attention away from your tone you held his face in your hands, “I know fully well that whatever I say to you when you step onto the court flies out the window. I only try because I care about you and I know that volleyball means the world to you. Don’t go blaming the game’s outcome on yourself either. Look, they’re still playing.”

You tilted his head so that he could see Yahaba set the ball and Kyotani spike it through the blockers. They scored the point, celebrating how they’re catching up.

Kunimi was the first to notice Oikawa watching, and he narrowed his eyes at him. Soon, Watari looked over, smiling and waving to his captain. Mattsun noticed too, both of them smirking knowingly. Yahaba scoffed, and Iwaizumi flipped Oikawa off.

To this, you narrowed your eyes, and Iwa rose his arms defensively. Nonetheless, your point was made, turning back to Oikawa. His eyes were wide, surprised.

“See, they’re not completely useless without you,” you stroked his cheek, “And they really do love you, no matter what they just did. It sucks, it really does suck that you have to play with an injury. I thought you say that you trust them.”

“I do...” Oikawa included guiltily.

“Good...” you sigh, recollecting your thoughts, “Toru, you’ve proven that you can trust them, but please trust me. I want you to sit out the next game if they win, okay? Your safety is so important to me and no doubtably the rest of the team agrees.”

Oikawa leaned into your touch, nodding and smiling, “Thank you, baby...”

“You are so welcome,” you lifted up the ice to look at his knee, “I hope the only thing you are crying at now is how much your knee hurts, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he laughed slightly, the shakiness of his leg concerning you.

However, the light laughter that left his lips made you smile. The towel slipped off his head, its shadow disappearing off his face. You caught it, placing it on the ground next to you.

“There you are, pretty boy,” you smiled at him, the twinkle returning to his eyes.

Once again, the shaking of his leg concerned you, “I’ll be careful, but I want to elevate your leg more.”

He simply nodded, trusting you as you took hold of his foot. One hand holding the ice and towel, you lifted his leg and spun him so that it rested along the bench. You placed the ice back on his knee, folding the towel that had been on his head tightly. Resting his foot on the towel, you gave him a peck on the forehead. Sitting behind him on the bench you allowed him to rest on you.

Oikawa placed his head on your shoulder, pouting up at you, “Hey, you missed my lips, Y/N-chan~”

Huffing you craned your neck to aim your lips for his own, but they couldn't reach. Instead you landed them on the tip of his nose.

“You missed again...” he whined, and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not my fault I can’t reach,” you grumbled, his head slipping off your shoulder.

This forced you to catch his sweaty head, so you took the opportunity to kiss him properly. However, your lips only brushed his top lip, leaving him unsatisfied.

“Hey, that wasn’t a proper kiss, princess,” he retorted.

“Well, that’s what you get for scaring me,” you smiled, “Now, sit up, you big baby.”

“Aww, did I scare you~” Oikawa teased, sitting up and resting against your side again.

“Shut up.”

The two of you spent the rest of the game watching closely, commenting on each play. Your arm rested over his shoulder the majority of the time, letting him play with your fingers. Sadly, Aoba Johsai lost the game, but you made sure to remind Oikawa that it wasn’t his fault and he believed you.

When you returned home, he thanked you. The way you supported him really put him at ease. He wasn't always comfortable to admit to weakness and needing help, so it meant the world to the both of you when he said it.

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagine #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa comfort

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maybankiara · 4 years ago

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YOU’RE IN MY HEAD

pairing: Footballer!Rafe Cameron x Reader

summary: When he keeps putting you off your position during matches, you decide to take it up with him -- unbeknownst to you, there’s more to Rafe than just wanting to prevent you from being a good football player (and it’s called unresolved sexual tension.)

w/c: 4k

a/n: happy valentine’s day!! @drewstarkey and i have a whole football!obx au (soccer, for you americans) planned that i keep putting off, so here’s a little something loosely inspired by the idea, until that finally arrives. also, in this universe, football is a unisex sport. i’m not a football expert so there may be some inaccuracies. i hope you enjoy both the day and the fic! (and do let me know if this football!fic is what people are interested in.)

masterlist

It’s the half-time of one of the better matches the team has played this season and, of course, Rafe Cameron ruins it by uttering a single sentence: ‘Y/N, you’re swapping positions with Kiara.’

The captain’s orders don’t end here, and he decides to implement some more strategies the team has practiced before, adapting the approach to the heavy-defence strategy that North Carolina is playing tonight. Sarah gives you a sympathetic look and a tap on your hand, but all you can do is shake your head.

This is the third time in a row Rafe has put you on the sidelines, basically. Always swapping with Kiara, whom everybody knows to be a lot fiercer right back than you, or anyone else on the team. Just like you’re better at being in the front, charging for the goal.

When the changes are in place and there’s about five minutes left, Rafe asks if anyone has got questions. Peterkin stays quiet and lets Captain Cameron take over, just like she always does.

You raise your hand, and Rafe calls on you. ‘What the fuck, Rafe? Why are you putting me in the back again?’

His jaw clenches. ‘We need someone firmer on the front.’

‘But you also need a firm defence,’ you argue. ‘You’re not making any sense.’

He stares at you and you hold his gaze, unwavering, feeling his sister stir next to you. On the other end of the locker room, Kiara pulls her jersey down, biting her lip. ‘Y/N’s right—’

‘I know what I’m doing,’ Rafe cuts her off. ‘Now let’s get back on the field.’

You listen to what he says, but not without letting your disagreement with his choice be written all over your face. When you’re headed out, he’s waiting to be the last, and you bump into him as you’re walking out, shoulder to shoulder, torso to torso.

He glares, and you clench your teeth, trailing behind Pope.

Back on the field, time flies. You warm up quickly and it’s back in the game again, only on a different position than where you started. Kiara offers you a sympathetic glance, much like the one Sarah gave you, because everyone is starting to notice that Rafe is treating you differently.

As you run, a little out of the grounds he told you you’d be covering, saving the ball more than a handful of times, you feel his watchful eyes on you. You’re not meant to be playing the right back but you’d rather do your best, even if it means overexerting yourself, just to make sure you don’t lose.

You foul an opposing player and drop to the ground, feeling your ankle get sore; Rafe’s the first to get to your side, helping you up. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

It’s a free kick, but not a yellow, so you say, ‘Whatever it takes.’

‘Don’t go breaking your legs, Y/N.’

You pull your arm out of his hold, sending a glare his way as you go back to your position. You should keep paying attention to the ball, because it’s about to be kicked, but you can’t help but shout, ‘If you let me play what I’m supposed to play, maybe I’ll listen!’

The game picks up. You dive a few more times, Kiara gets a nasty foul that has her off the pitch for about half a minute, Topper gets a cramp, JJ fouls in the front and gets a yellow, John B and Rafe nearly start a scrap when someone gets Sarah to the ground – but you win.

That should be what’s important, you think as the entire team is hugging and celebrating, but your heart isn’t in the right place.

Playing football is far from fun when you keep being treated like a lesser player than someone else.

Time wears on, the team gets changed, and it’s time for a proper celebration, down at the Wreck. Sarah tries getting your spirits up, even Kiara tries telling you that at least you evaded getting fouled like that, Kelce tells you that you saved his ass, but none of it matters – not when Rafe celebrates as if what he’s doing is right.

Seriously. Three matches. It’s fucking ridiculous at this point.

You approach Rafe without hesitation, but still keep your voice hushed, because you’re not exactly trying to ruin everybody’s happiness with your tension. ‘Can we talk?’

He glances at you as he pulls his jersey over his head – your eyes drop to his lean torso, despite the fact you see it on an almost weekly basis.

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he says, and takes his shorts off. ‘You were good today, as a right back.’

‘That’s not my— Jesus, do you need to be half naked right now?’

‘What?’ he asks, almost innocently, but the grin betrays him. ‘I’m getting changed. Why are you getting so worked up?’

‘I’m not—’ You pinch the bridge of your nose, letting out an exasperated huff as he takes off his socks, too, and is now wearing literally just boxers. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

He chuckles, dropping down on the bench. You half-wonder what Topper, sitting next to him, must be thinking – and realise that most of the team is taking selfies and chatting in the other end of the locker room. It’s just you and Rafe.

Good.

He looks up at you from the bench, manspreading with his back leaning on the wall. ‘What do you want?’

‘I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m kind of trying to have a serious conversation with you right now.’

‘Yeah, I got that.’

He’s hot. Okay, he’s hot and the reason why you’re so bothered about him being almost naked is because it’s taking your mind off of what you’re wanting to talk about, and giving a different meaning to you being “worked up”.

So you gather all your courage and bring your eyes up to meet his, trying to exude as much fierceness as you can muster. ‘I need you to let me play on my position. I’ve had enough, you can’t keep doing that if you’re not training me to play Kiara’s.’

‘Easy,’ he says, shrugging. ‘Then we’ll train you.’

Your jaw drops. ‘Are you being fucking serious right now?’

Before he gets to answer, JJ calls from the other end that they need to hurry up, if the team wants to make it to the Wreck at a normal time. It breaks whatever moment you and Rafe were sharing and, telling him the conversation isn’t over, you retreat back to your locker. It takes all you’ve got to not let this affect the celebratory mood, because winning 2 - 0 is pretty damn good, and you should take some credit for that. Even if it wasn’t on your position, for half of the match.

It ends up not being so difficult, actually, to not think about what happened. Once you’re back in Kildare and at the Wreck, food and drinks are flowing, and as long as Rafe is out of your earshot and sight, it’s good. He tends to stay away from you most times, anyway.

(Which, okay, you can admit now sometimes bothers you, you’ve had a few drinks.)

It’s not so difficult, until JJ lounges in the chair next to you, beer can in one hand and a donut in another, asks, ‘What’s up with you and Cap’n?’

‘Don’t even get me started,’ you sigh. ‘I don’t know what crawled up his ass.’

‘Language, Y/N.’

‘Fuck off, Maybank.’

The blond just grins, probably happy to see you slightly irritated – but not at him.

He pushes the chair back from swinging into its normal position, resting his elbows on the table. He leans towards you as if he’s about to tell you a secret – even his eyebrows furrow, the ever-present smile shaping into a frown. ‘Seriously, he keeps pushing you in the back. He’s gotta have a reason for that.’

‘Not that I’d know of,’ you admit. You shrug, lightly, despite the actual weight of the subject. ‘I thought we made a good team in the front. He assisted me, I assisted him… It’s been working well.’

JJ nods, pondering. ‘It was the game against New Jersey, right?’

‘The last time I played without the change?’ You play until JJ nods, then sigh, playing with a broken piece hanging off the wooden table. ‘I didn’t even get to play, since that bitch nearly sprained my ankle.’

‘It’s always your ankle,’ JJ says, chuckling.

His thoughts take him to stories of all the injuries you and the rest of team have gotten so far, drawing a couple of your teammates into the conversation. Rafe slips off your mind for the most part, as you laugh along to the ridiculous number of times Kelce has faceplanted while tackled, or to Pope is retelling how he defended the goal by getting the ball in his nuts, which made him fear for his offspring (it was all fun, and makes for a hilarious story).

It’s only when you glance around the table and catch him in conversation with Topper, or James, or Sarah, and his eyes are trained on you for just a moment before they’re gone – as if he wants you to see him, but wants you to question whether it was an accident. You feel yourself growing stiff; when it happens too many times, your mind flashes back to the locker room – you, trying to talk to him; Rafe, half naked, grinning at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He’s conceited. He’s selfish. He’s attractive, with that prep-boy look around him that falls apart when he’s leading the charge on the pitch – when the wisps of blond frame the sharp lines of his face, and he embodies the look of the leader he’s become.

It just sucks that you don’t quite agree with his leadership, and he doesn’t quite agree with you speaking up about it.

Night wears on, and your teammates flock to their beds, one by one. You’re only staying at the Wreck, the local hotel, for a night – tomorrow’s a new day, a new tournament. It would be smart to go to sleep early. Get the energy you need for tomorrow, because tomorrow’s filled with press conferences, which you don’t tend to enjoy.

It would also be smarter to deal with the captain tomorrow morning, when you’re both sober, instead of the buzz running through your veins right now.

By the time it hits midnight, it’s only you, JJ, Pope, Kiara, Rafe, and Topper. Instead of taking the big table at the wreck, the few of you retreated to a secluded one in the corner of the hotel’s dining room. Topper’s beating everyone at cards, but Kiara’s at his neck, and everyone has downed enough drinks for the night to be called quits soon enough; you are starting to sober up, and can already feel the headache looming.

Inadvertently, you glance at Rafe. He’s holding his cards in one hand, spread evenly, long fingers adorned with rings keeping them in place. Across from you, his eyes don’t meet yours, as they look around the table, through everybody’s poker faces – you notice the angle of his cheekbones, the sharpness of his jawline, the unstyled hair having the slightest bit of a messy wave to it. You hate how much attention you pay to the parting of his lips, and the line of his nose, the curve of his eyes; his Adam’s apple bobbing as he taunts Pope across the table, trying to get him to break the cards.

When he turns as if scalded and his eyes meet yours, you don’t avert your gaze.

It might be the alcohol, but the room is starting to feel a little stuffy, a little warm; you’ve never realised how intense his gaze can be. It’s almost as if it’s unguarded, spiked with the few drinks everyone’s had.

You clear your throat, looking at your cards – you’re definitely not going to be the one winning anytime soon. ‘I think I’ll head to bed, soon.’

If anybody notices the fluttering of your voice, they don’t comment on it. Kiara nods, JJ boos you, and Rafe says: ‘We should all probably head to bed if we want to be ready for tomorrow.’

‘Okay, Cap’n,’ says Topper, resting an arm around the blond’s shoulders. ‘You go get your beauty sleep, me and the boys are going to let you know how it went when you wake up in the morning, princess.’

Kiara clears her throat, drawing the attention to herself before quirking an eyebrow at Topper. ‘What’s making you think you’re getting rid of me?’

There’s a collective of ooh’s, and you think about staying, but it wouldn’t be smart. Rafe’s right, you all would be better getting some sleep, but there’s also the fact that you’re pissed at him and you’re drunk enough for that to be making you seem in a bit of a different light.

(You’re still struggling to breathe, a little bit. Hopefully no one has noticed.)

In the end, you bid everyone goodnight, pay your bill, and head for your room. You’re still not feeling well and there’s a water dispenser in the ground hallway, opposite end of where the stairs to the upper floor are. You think about making a cup of tea, but settle for water – water is good.

Cold water should unhaze your mind.

You stay in the hallway, for a little pit – it’s peaceful here. Hallways have meant something to you ever since your team’s career started to take off two years ago. Wherever you go, rooms and places are different, but hallways are nearly always the same. They’re always just transit spaces, connecting point A with point B; it’s not quite a liminal space, but it’s where you feel like nothing can hurt you.

That is, until you’re about to set your foot on the stairs, and you see Rafe walking out of the toilets.

His eyes settle on you at the same moment and both of you freeze; the hallway is quiet, save for the music reaching it from the dining hall. You can almost hear your heart beating.

‘Thought you were going to bed.’

You raise your glass, which you refilled just before embarking for your room. ‘Had to stop for a bit.’

He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Outside of the locker room, outside of the dining hall, he doesn’t seem like the overconfident Rafe you’ve got so much against. He still is the same – it just doesn’t show that much.

‘I meant what I said earlier,’ he says, slowly, as if the words are hard to push out. ‘I think your should train to be right back.’

If you had half a shot more, you would’ve thrown the water into his face. Now, all you do, is say – ‘You’re an asshole, Cameron.’ – and go up the stairs. For a moment there’s nothing, but then there’s rushed footsteps coming up the stairs, and you feel a hand on your wrist, and his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around instantly. You’re too angry for that – you close your eyes instead, and breathe, before collecting yourself enough to not explode.

He’s still holding your wrist when you turn around, and he’s close enough that you can almost feel the heat radiating off his body; the cologne mixed with the scent of fresh clothes.

‘Please don’t be angry with me.’

You scoff, pulling your hand out of his grip. ‘You’re ruining my life. You know how important this is to me, and you keep— you keep putting me where I don’t belong!’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and he sounds earnest; he sounds the way his face looks – a small frown on his face, lips quivering breathlessly, the wrinkles around his eyes almost pleading with her. ‘I’m just doing what’s best for everybody, Y/N.’

‘I don’t play defence. That’s Kiara’s job, but apparently that’s not good enough for you. You know where I’m good at.’

‘You’re good playing any position.’ He says it quick, as if the words escape from him. He swallows loudly enough that she hears him and takes a step back, shaking his head. ‘Look, you’re one of the best players on the team. That’s why—’

‘Then why don’t you put me where I can be the best?’

‘Y/N, just trust me, okay?’

‘No,’ you say, crossing the distance he created between the two of you until his back’s pressed against the wall, and you’re right in front of him, a finger jabbed into his chest. ‘I want to know why you’re doing this.’

He hesitates; you feel his heart beating faster than you thought possible. ‘We were playing against rough teams. I couldn’t let you get hurt.’

You scoff again, half-laughing as you rub your forehead with the back of your hand. ‘That’s bullshit. Jesus, Rafe, you’re spewing shit.’

‘Look, it’s the truth. I couldn’t take that risk.’

‘But you could take that risk with Kiara.’

‘Yes.’

No hesitation; no wavering. It’s something he must’ve thought through, over and over again, for the answer to be so certain. You’re a little taken aback, and your finger falls from his chest, but the distance is still almost nonexistent.

It’s because I’m good, you tell yourself, that’s why he’s keeping you safe, but it doesn’t ring true. Not when you can smell his cologne and not when his eyes drop to your lips, cheeks flushed.

So you decide to ask why.

He hesitates again, and you feel his shoulder slump as thoughts run through his head. Whatever he settles on, he’s certain, and you can see it. His voice is almost sad when he admits, ‘After the game against New Jersey, I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. I couldn’t lose you on the pitch, because when you weren’t around, it was like I couldn’t get my head straight.’ He pauses, and then: ‘I’m sorry.’

Rafe breathes slowly, carefully, but your heart is racing around your ribcage, threatening to break through. His words echo around your head as you try to make sense of them – make sense of the way he felt like it was more than just a admission of being a good team – make sense of the way he’s looking at you like he’s expecting more than a reaction to the recognition of your worth as a teammate.

There’s a feeling in your chest that you can’t describe. It’s in your throat, in the back of your head, burning through your ears – a thought almost too scary to form, but then it does, and it refuses to leave.

So you swallow the gulp in your throat and ask, ‘Is my being good on the pitch the only reason?’

A beat. ‘No.’

You nod, slowly, as if in a trance. His eyes are gazing into yours with intensity you’ve never felt before – it’s as if he’s asking you to say something, to do something, to show that you understand what he’s saying without saying it.

And you do.

You do.

You nod, and your lips are on his before you get the chance to think this through. His hands are quick to grab your waist as your fingers get tangled in the soft waves of his hair, bodies pressing against one another in a heated rush.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ he mutters, a moment before his lips find your neck, fingers slipping underneath your top, dipping into the skin on your back. You moan, a little too loud, and he laughs against your neck. ‘We really shouldn’t.’

‘Yeah, we shouldn’t,’ you agree, watching him as he pulls his head back to look at you, a dazed smile on his face. ‘My room or yours?’

Rafe’s grin is enough to set your body on fire. ‘Yours is closer.’

He kisses you again, a firm kiss planted on your lips, before taking your hand and letting you lead to your room. The moment the door is locked, your lips are on his neck, clothes are clumsily coming off on your way to the bed, and you only have a second to wonder how long this has been inevitable until his lips hit the right spot, and every thought is as good as gone.

When you wake in the morning, you’re half-surprised to find him curled into your side, head resting on your shoulder and an arm draped over your stomach. He’s still asleep, and you take a moment to think about how calming—how right—it feels to be here, with him. The hotel room is nice, a quiet rose gold, and the light coming through the windows is making it almost ethereal.

It doesn’t feel like a mistake. You’re still a bit angry about being pushed back, but things seem a little different now that you know he wasn’t trying to hinder you, but protect you.

(You still need to tell him that you don’t need protecting; you know what you got yourself into when you decided to play the sport.)

With a smile on your face, you start playing with your head. He wakes within five seconds, with the same dazed look on his face from last night. His eyes find yours and he pauses for a moment, as if he were taking it all in, before his lips find home in yours. Neither of you think about morning breath, or about the fact that you should both probably go for a shower before leaving the hotel, because Rafe snuggles into your shoulder, pressing butterfly kisses to your collarbone, as his hand traces circles around your stomach.

You take it upon yourself to ask, ‘No regrets?’

‘None.’

‘You should have one,’ you tease, and only let him be frightened for a moment. ‘Pushing me into the back.’

He sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. ‘Are we still arguing about that?’

‘We will be, until you let me play offense again.’

‘If it was you instead of Kiara yesterday, it could’ve messed with your leg,’ he says. Before you get to respond, he pushes himself off the bed so he can look at you. ‘I know your ankle is still hurting from New Jersey even if you’re not saying anything.’

You can’t deny the truth.

Rafe kisses your forehead. ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful.’

‘I always am.’

‘More,’ he says, breaking into a smile. ‘I need my partner back.’

‘If you promise to never make decisions for me without consulting me first.’

He squints, as if thinking about it, but you can tell he isn’t. ‘I promise.’

‘Okay, then.’ You wrap your arms around him and pull him down, kissing him softly. ‘I promise to be more careful.’

In the end, it’s like he promised – you go back to playing offense, in the front of every attack, and you and Rafe are back to being the dynamic scoring duo you’ve always been. Except this time this dynamic extends to beyond the field, and you support each other when the football isn’t around. Nobody is surprised by the turn of the events – you’re not entirely sure, but JJ passes Kiara a few bills when you and Rafe break the news to the team, and you think there was bets going around.

Things get back to fine. Things get better. You end up winning the tournament, and Rafe kisses you with the cup in his hand, and the next morning, the headlines are full of your and Rafe’s names more so than your team’s, but that’s fine. You’ve made it.

You’ve got everything you need – you just never thought it’d be no one other than Rafe Cameron, the Captain himself.

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #obx fic #my fic #i even made a wee graphic for it bc i was born but also bc it's not a usual fic #it's a gift <3 #anyway i might be willing to explore football!rafe a bit more in the future if there's interest #no clue if the obx fandom is even alive rn #anyway the left pic is bc that's the rafe i imagine being here #the smoker posh boy kinda type #you know the kind that fleur likes (not that i'm exposing her or anything)

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wildernessuntothemselves · 4 years ago

Text

I Hate Me Now

Word Count: 6k

Genre: Angst, smut

Summary: You and Wonpil used to be lovers, soulmates even, before your priorities in life got in the way. You wanted to do anything to help your family, no matter how morally ambiguous it is, while Wonpil thought that doing the right thing was of the utmost importance, no exceptions. Now, facing off in court years later, all the old wounds gets torn open again and things finally come to a head.

A/N: *long fart noise* this fic had the potential to be something good but I fucked it up and I’m beyond even caring.

Warnings: inconsistent writing if you’ve ever seen one, kinda femdom, unhealthy as per usual, sad little story.

The neutral, slightly intimidating mask you put on everyday was the one most people were familiar with by now. You rarely showed your real emotions anymore, not since you had lost him. His departure brought on a profound change in your life. There had already been a rift growing between who you wanted to be and who you had to be in order to survive, but when he left he took any remaining idealism left in you with him. It’s funny that the reason he left you was because he couldn’t handle your diverging moral standings, yet it was precisely his departure that cemented the turn you had taken.

Now, with him standing opposite you in the courtroom, fighting for the opposing team, you feel your mask slipping. It was hard seeing him like this. Even though it’s been years already, not having him break into that breathtaking smile of his that was like an ingrained reflex as soon as his eyes would meet yours was disquieting. Now he just frowns and looks away; his big, beautiful eyes that used to be filled to the brim with a sort of dreamy goodness were now empty and tired.

Needless to say, you weren’t on your best game. You could hardly concentrate at all during the trial, and you can bet your ass that your boss knew about your abysmal performance before it even ended. As soon as you were out of the courtroom, he was calling to give you crap about it and condescendingly remarking that if you couldn’t handle such a big case then you should’ve left it to someone who actually knew what he was doing, emphasis on the ‘He’. You assured him that everything was under control and that this wouldn’t happen again. You were just caught off guard, not that you dared tell him that last part. This was a huge case and it could either make or break your career. You couldn’t afford to get distracted by the man you had once thought to be the love of your life, and might still do…

You had to do this for your family. But it seems the man in question intends to put your resolve to the test.

You don’t know how he found you. Perhaps he had followed you out of the courthouse. Did he hear you talking on the phone to your boss? You sure hope not, not when his mere presence was forcing you to face the fact that you never got over him after all, and you didn’t need him to see that. You had hoped that the time and distance would harden your heart and heal the wounds he had inflicted upon it but all it took was one look in his eyes for them to get ripped wide open again.

If nothing else, you wanted to keep your pride. He doesn’t get to break your heart and see you still broken up about it all these years later. So you put on your mask again and smirk at him, “Good work today, Pili.”

His frown deepens at the term of endearment you used to call him when you were together. You suppose you aren’t allowed to use it anymore, which is precisely why you do. “Too bad it won’t do you any good. You always did have a soft spot for the hopeless cases.”

Wonpil puffs his chest out, subconsciously trying to look bigger under your mocking gaze. “Our case isn’t hopeless.”

“Yeah sure, whatever you say, Pili.” You roll your eyes. You should end it there, tell him you have no time for him and leave to go work harder on your case to take him and the people he represents down. But you haven’t made a levelheaded decision since the moment he came back into your life and you just can’t resist adding, “You shouldn’t be wasting your skill on these people. They’re never gonna win. Join my company. I’m sure I can find you a place.”

Wonpil’s face contorts in disgust, “You think I would ever be a part of a company like yours? You kill people!”

“My company doesn’t kill people.” You reply half-heartedly, not really up to defending your employers out of the courtroom.

“Maybe not directly but the chemicals they pollute the environment with has led to the illness and death of countless people. That’s on your hands.”

You’re not surprised that he insists on making you complicit in the actions of the company you’re representing. Wonpil always did have an absolute sense of justice, from the CEO to the janitor, everyone was equally responsible in his eyes.

“Be careful what you accuse people of, Pili. This could get you in real trouble once my company wins the lawsuit. And they will win.” You smile sadly, “They always win.”

You walk closer to him and reach out for his hand tentatively. You’re surprised when he lets you, and you take a moment to just hold it, feeling the familiar, yet almost-forgotten, weight of it in your own hands. When you lace your fingers together, they fit as perfectly as they did years ago, the heat of him permeating through yours like blood through a corpse revived.

You know you couldn’t let yourself get carried away for long. You needed to say what you had to say and then withdraw back into yourself when he inevitably rejects you. Rubbing your thumb over the web of skin between his thumb and index, you take a few moments to steady your breath as you willfully shed years worth of mental defenses to allow him to gaze onto the real you, naked from any pretenses and completely vulnerable against the bottomless darkness you see in his own eyes.

“I’ve missed you so much, you can’t even know. I… I still want you.” You weren’t sure if it was just your voice that was trembling or your entire body—you were holding too tightly onto his hand to be able to tell. “It’s not too late for us. We can still be together. What you’re doing right now is admirable, fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves. You’ve got the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen… but it’s a losing battle. There is no hope for them, but there is for us. We can have a good life together.”

His lips press together into a thin line and he yanks his hand back, almost throwing you forward when you don’t react fast enough to untangle your fingers as he steps away from you, looking disgusted at the mere thought of what you’re suggesting. “If you really think that I’d not only abandon these people but actually work against them then you don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, I know you.” You look down at your now empty hands, muttering tiredly, “I just hoped that you might’ve changed.”

“And I wish you didn’t. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’re nothing like the girl I once fell in love with. You’re a monster.”

You let out a bark of laughter to hide the stabbing pain his words delivered right into the center of your chest, cutting up your tattered heart all over again. “And did you follow me all this way just to say that? Aw, Pili, you shouldn’t have.”

He glares at you, utter contempt displayed on his face.

“I hate you.” He curses out before he leaves, not sparing you a second glance, and for that you were thankful. You could barely stomach the fact that the broken woman who was openly sobbing in the middle of the street in broad daylight was you—you didn’t need him to see that.

___________________________

Just like you hadn’t expected to ever face off with him in a courtroom, you also never expected him to show up at your place only days after your less-than-sweet reunion.

“What are you doing here?” You stand with your arms folded over your chest, feeling resentful that he’s forcing you to deal with the heartache he brought with him into your own residence. “How did you even know where my apartment is?”

“You’ve messed with my damn head.” He accuses, looking deeply agitated as he paces back and forth in your living room.

The audacity of this man! He sought you out first, then he rejected you, and now he barges into your home and claims you are messing with him?

You plant your body in his path to stop his pacing, and ask, putting emphasis on each word, “Why. are. you. here?”

He stares at you for a second, exasperated and contemplating what to say, but each time a sentence starts forming, he bites it back abruptly. Huffing, he runs his hand through his hair haphazardly and tries to get past you to start pacing again.

But you jump into action, your hands shooting out to grab him and hold him in place. You won’t let him play games with you. You won’t be able to handle it.

In the process of holding on to him to try to keep him in place, you had gotten much closer to him in proximity. With your arms almost enveloping him, your heart starts beating erratically. This was the closest you’d been to him in years, and by the looks of it, Wonpil wasn’t completely unfazed by it either.

“What do you want from me, Wonpil?” You ask, suddenly feeling weary as if all the fight has seeped out of your body.

His eyes flit down to your lips as you talk, and they linger there even after you’re done, giving you your answer. Wonpil was never particularly good at hiding his feelings, something he would readily admit to if asked, and you take advantage of it.

You raise your hand to his face carefully as if he’s a frightened animal you don’t want to scare off. When he feels your hand on his cheek, he finally looks you in the eyes again, and you feel a twinge of pity at the helplessness you see in his gaze.

Taking in a deep breath, you ask slowly, “Do you want to kiss me, Wonpil?”

You knew you shouldn’t be doing this; it will only open up your wounds further, but you’ve never gotten to say goodbye to him, and you knew that if you miss this-- probably last-- chance to be with him, you will live to regret it even more.

You’re so lost in your own head that you miss the subtle nod Wonpil gives you and, antsy by your lack of response, he makes the first move, pressing his lips to your own.

It’s an awkward kiss, tight-lipped and uncoordinated as Wonpil is unsure of what he is allowed to do, but feeling the urgency to touch you anyway. His hands are all over you, but not in a good way. They would barely touch a part of you before they moved on to the next, leaving you feeling unsatisfied.

Deciding to take the reins—which was par for the course back during your relationship anyway—you grab his hands and hold them behind his back, making him whine when you break the kiss. “Don’t whine. You don’t have the right to.”

He bites his lip, stifling anymore protests from coming out. Pulling on his arm, you lead him to your bedroom and push him on the bed. He tries to pull you down with him but you shake him off. Again, he starts whining but with a sharp raise of your eyebrow, he pipes down immediately.

Grabbing the hem of your oversized shirt, you cock your head at him. “Do you want me to take this off?”

“Yes, please.” He breathes out before you’re even done talking.

You slide the shirt up your body slowly, teasingly, making sure to give Wonpil a show. With the shirt off, your breasts are entirely exposed for you to play with them and tease Wonpil some more. Pushing them together, messaging them, twisting the nipples lightly, you do everything you know will drive him crazy until he’s biting down hard on his lip so he wouldn’t piss you off, but you could see from the obvious bulge in his pants and the way his right leg was bouncing up and down impatiently that he was getting needy.

You give your breasts one last squeeze before you slide your hands down your abdomen and towards the waistline of your shorts, pushing it down on one side only to pull it back up and do the same thing with the other side.

“Please.”

“Please, what? You want me to take this off too?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought I was a disgusting monster and you can’t even look at me. You have no problem with it now that you want to get your dick wet, huh?”

He averts his eyes, having the audacity to look ashamed and it pisses you the fuck off.

You grab his jaw, making him face you, and hiss down at him. “Either you grow some fucking balls and face the implications of your own desire or you get the fuck out of my sight.”

You needed him to voice out his desire so he’d admit that he’s equally responsible for what is happening. You’re not going to let him paint you as a monster seducing poor, helpless him. He wants this too, and he needs to be held accountable for that.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, entirely too chagrined than he had any right to be.

“That you’re a fucking hypocrite.” You spit, astonished at how disgusted you were with him, while still wanting to be one with him. Your whole relationship is a mess, and you’re convinced that either it was never meant to be, or that the gods themselves are jealous of your love and are trying to hurt you.

“I’m… I’m a hypocrite. There, are you happy?” He challenges, but you just let out a tired sigh, almost having expected him to deny it and put an end to this—to tell you that this is insane and you’re insane, but he validates your insanity and now you can’t back down.

No. None of this makes you happy. You haven’t been happy ever since he left you.

You take your shorts and panties off unceremoniously and straddle him, staying still for a moment to see if he’ll try something, but his hands stay balled to his sides as he awaits your permission to touch you, so you give it to him. “Go ahead. You can touch.”

His hands immediately go to your breasts, touching you in the exact same way you were just touching yourself, and you laugh. “Aw, Pili, you wanted it that bad?”

He frowns in that adorably pouty way he unconsciously does sometimes, and it makes your smile falter, the memory of something you used to have but is just out of your reach now is all too painful.

He forcefully takes you out of your thoughts when his mouth latches onto one of your breasts, placing kisses all over it and sucking on your nipple. You moan out, a hand reaching for his hair and automatically tugging on it the way you know he likes, which only makes him needier, one of his hands eagerly moving down to your pussy, and the moan that leaves him lets you know just how excited he is to find you dripping. Too impatient to wait, his fingers move down to your hole right away. When a finger enters you, he’s the one pulling back with a throaty moan.

You chuckle breathlessly, feeling yourself quivering around his finger. “Does my pussy feel that good, Pili?”

He nods, pumping his finger in and out of you, making you gasp as you start unbuttoning his shirt. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“Tight. Wet. Soft.”

“Hmm, and did you miss it?” You slip his shirt off his shoulders, forcing him to remove his hands from you, but as soon as the shirt is off, his hands are back on you again, one grabbing a handful of your breast and the other two fingers deep in you.“Do you miss how it feels around your cock?”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and you know that he’s imagining it.

“Do you want to feel it again?”

“Yes.” His eyes snap open again, full of silent pleas.

You push him backwards until he’s lying down in the middle of the bed with you straddling him, his cock snug between your wet folds as you slowly rub up and down against it. With your hands holding his arms over his head, he looks up at you, gaze brimming with need as he holds his breath and waits, but you don’t give it to him yet.

“Look at you. You were acting all high and mighty earlier but now you’re willing to do anything to get inside this pussy, huh?” You taunt, rubbing yourself with the tip of his dick.

When he doesn’t say anything, you lean down to bite his collarbone, making him yelp. “Answer me, Pili.”

“Yes, please, give it to me.” He nods emphatically, throwing his head back and crying out as you sink down on him.

As soon as you have him all the way inside of you, you know you are in trouble. God, he fills you up so good. Everywhere his cock touched inside of you burns with pleasure and you can’t even help yourself; you ride him hard and fast, desperate to feel the kind of pleasure you haven’t felt in years. Everything is just different with him, the way he fits inside of you, the needy, almost reverent look on his face, his choked off moans, they all work you up to a frenzy.

“Does it feel good, Pili?”

“Yes. So, so good.”

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about this for years... just lying in bed, fucking your own spit-covered hand and imagining it was me taking you.”

“Yeah, y-yeah…” He sniffles, lower lip trembling as he readily admits to it.

“You’re gonna cry?” You spit out, suddenly enraged, and come to a stop. “Fuck, you’re so pathetic.”

“No! I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Please keep going.”

“No. I won’t let you twist this narrative into you being the victim.” You fall back onto the bed and pull him up over you. “If you want me, take me.”

The muscle in his jaw jumps as he considers his options for a second, and you lay completely still under him, waiting for him to make the decision on his own, half-wishing he’d stop this madness. But he doesn’t.

Grunting, his hands grab your hips as he pushes his length back inside you. It only takes a few unexpectedly sharp thrusts for you to cooperate and wrap your arms and legs around him. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin when you pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, the shaky moan your action elicits causing heat to start gathering in your belly once again. You stare up at him in hunger, admiring how sexy he looks as the pleasure overtakes his features.

“Shit…shit, you feel so good.” Wonpil rasps out, his eyes squeezing shut as his thrusts turn sloppy. “ I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Don’t you dare.” You snap at him, your nails digging red trails down his back, making his hips stutter.

“Please, I can’t hold it.” He shakes his head, desperate to get you to let him cum.

“No.” You hiss, silencing him with a kiss. You swallow his whines as your hands grab his ass and force him to keep fucking you. The more he squirms, the more his hips grind against you, rubbing coarsely against your clit and bringing you oh-so-close to your orgasm.

But—seemingly just a second away from release—Wonpil goes rigid under you, his body freezing up too hard to allow you to move him anymore. His mouth tears away from your own in a loud moan as his dick twitches inside you and fills you up with his hot cum.

You can’t believe it. You were so, so close. Frustration and disappointment fill up the spaces the receding pleasure leaves behind.

“I told you to stop.” You hear him say meekly, and you sigh as you’re left tense and unfulfilled, just like always.

“It’s fine.” You mutter darkly, pushing him off you, and Wonpil’s face falls, shame spreading all over it.

You know your reaction is hurting him. Wonpil hated not pleasing you. He took it as a personal failure if you were even the slightest bit unhappy with his performance. His desire to please and your desire to be pleased are what brought you together in the first place many years ago. But honestly, all you can think about right now is that mind-blowing orgasm you were just robbed of because he couldn’t hold back just a little bit more.

But before the last bit of pleasure inside you recedes from your body, it is forced back in when Wonpil, still half-hard and sheathed inside you, starts moving again, fucking his cum into your sensitive pussy.

“What are you doing?” Your mouth hangs open in shock and pleasure, and you watch him grit his teeth and set a frantic pace. As his cock starts hardening inside of you again, he’s able to fuck you harder and harder, the determined look on his face the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

His moans are loud, and you can’t tell if they’re from pleasure or pain as Wonpil never once lets up his assault, hitting just the right spot that has you seeing white. When his thumb flicks your clit, it is over for you, your hands flying out to grab his face and pull him down into a searing kiss as you cum.

When you pull back from the kiss, signalling the end of your orgasm, Wonpil collapses into a sweaty mess next to you, still clinging to your body by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck as you both catch your breath.

“What’s so funny?” He perks his head up, asking as you start shaking with laughter in his arms. But the more you look at him, the harder you laugh. This is just all so absurd.

Wonpil watches you uneasily. He needs assurance, something that he had always relied on you to provide for him, but you can’t do that this time.

You come down from your laughter fit with a deep sigh. “Get out.”

He’s taken aback at your sudden coldness. This isn’t what he expected, not what he was used to from you, and you almost start laughing again. Is he really that clueless? Did he expect things to be just like they were before after what he’s done?

His eyes flit between yours, searching for a comfort he won’t find in them. “But—but… aren’t we going to talk about this?"

“Talk about what, Wonpil?” You ask in exasperation, “Have you changed your mind about my work?”

“No, but—”

“But you want me to make the sacrifice for you.” You finish his sentence for him. “This is why you’re here, isn’t it? You refuse to give up your job but you expect me to give up mine for you.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” He bristles, sitting up.

“I don’t care about the right thing. All I care about is my family.”

His face hardens at that, and through gritted teeth, he says, “Your family isn’t going to starve if you work at another firm.”

“Quality of life isn’t measured by whether you starve or not. I want them to have a good life.” You don’t know why you even bother anymore, he’s never going to listen. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He tears himself away from you and gets up, angrily putting on his clothes. “Yes because I’m just a poor orphan boy who will never understand what family means. Isn’t that right?”

“Pili… you know I didn’t mean it like that.” You unconsciously reach out for him but he jumps away.

“Yes, you did. You always pitied me for not having a family.” Pain twists Wonpil’s pretty features. “You know, for a while, I actually thought you could be my family.”

“No, Pili. I couldn’t have.” You sigh sadly, the deepening look of hurt on his face cutting you up. “Because you left me. And family never leaves.”

His mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something but doesn't even know what. Collecting himself, Wonpil scoffs and turns towards the door.

“Yeah, like that.” You mutter, collapsing back on the bed as you hear the sound of your front door opening and slamming shut.

___________________________________

You know it is wrong but you can’t stay away from each other. Now that you have had a taste of the forbidden after years of having sworn off each other, you couldn’t find it in you to stop.

You find yourself in each other’s beds again and again, hurling accusations at each other and fucking your emotions out until you’re too tired to do anything but sleep, each time getting more and more exhausted until you stop trying all together, just blocking out everything and focusing on the here and now as if nothing else existed outside of your respective bedrooms.

Your nights have been sleepless ever since he's gotten back into your life, and not just for the obvious reason that he’s the person you thought was the love of all your lives, past or present. No, many nights were spent just staring at each other, no words uttered for fear of disturbing this fragile improbability that brought you back together, or holding each other so gingerly as if you were made of matter and antimatter and your meeting could annihilate not only yourselves but the entire world you’ve built around you.

It’s a bubble and you know it, the translucent shell that surrounds you gleaming all rainbow-like when the light of forgotten dreams hits it just right. It sways and wobbles, signaling its impending explosion any moment now. And yet, you stay curled up around each other as if you can’t see the surface tension on the verge of breaking.

Every once in a while, one of you would lean forward and press their lips against the other’s, and you’d close your eyes and pretend like these past years have been nothing but a bad dream and you’re still college students, young and lost and unsure of everything in the world except for the notion that love is eternal and that you have already found it in each other.

You wonder what you’d look like now to your past selves, having gained all the conviction and knowledge you would’ve never thought you would possess, but having lost the one thing that made any of it worth a damn. You bet your past selves would hold each other and cry at the sight of the broken you holding onto the jagged pieces of your once-sweet notion with bleeding hearts and crushed souls.

Tears trickle down your face, and Wonpil reaches up to wipe them with the backs of his fingers, pressing his lips to yours again when the branching stream reaches even your lips.

Pulling back ever so slightly, he whispers to you and to the dying universe around you, the vibrations of his voice reaching your lips through the tiny distance between you, sounding choked up like he had begun crying too, “I wish we could stay here forever, just forget about everyone and be forgotten by them.”

You sigh and wrap yourself around him, his starry eyes shuttering closed and a soft pout forming on his lips as he drifts off to sleep, just like old times. And you're left alone to wonder... if you could do it all over again, would you have chosen differently?

______________________________

You knew something was off. Despite the time and distance that have whittled down your sense of him, you still knew that something was off. Your body had picked up on so many little things—the way his eyes glossed over when he would force himself to face you, his excessively soft touches that resembled those of a volatile lover silently apologizing for his latest outburst, the lingering looks he gave you as if he was memorizing every little detail of you before you went away—it just took your brain too long to make sense of it all.

Or maybe you just didn't want to believe it. You got too greedy and wanted to live in your fantasy world just a little bit longer, and it cost you everything.

Looking at him now, you think he’s saying something to you but every word is muffled as if you were submerged in water. He gets agitated, shouting something again and again that gets just a little clearer every time as he forces you back to the surface and you register that it’s your own name.

When you blink, your gaze finally focusing on him, he breathes a sigh of relief. “You’re scaring me.”

“I wish I had never met you.” Your sentence is slow and raspy like the ghostly murmur of someone fished out of water.

“Don’t say that.” He whimpers, "I had to do it." He says it like he means it, like he really couldn’t stop himself from betraying you, using you, ruining your life. "You said it yourself, we never would've won. It was the only way. These people depended on me."

"And what about me?" You rasp, tears stinging your eyes. "I loved you."

"And I love you." He tries to hold you but you push him away.

"They fired me.” You inform him monotonously, “They had me blacklisted to make sure I would never find a job in this field again."

Of course they did. What company will want you now that you've shown yourself not to be reliable? You slept with your rival and allowed him to steal crucial documents that could jeopardize the entire case from right under your nose. Your stupid amateur mistake could cost the company millions.

"How am I going to provide for my family now?" You moan, not really asking him.

"You could join us. It's not a big pay but—”

Your hand goes to pull at your hair in frustration, “God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

"I'm sorry.” He holds his head down, sobbing.

"No, you don’t get to cry about ruining my life! You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself! You don’t—” You stop abruptly, unable to breathe. Cradling your head now, you lament, "Oh god, what am I gonna do now?"

"I don't know."

"No, you never know." You say bitterly. "I don’t want to ever see your face again."

His head whips up, "Don't say that..."

“Go.”

"I didn't mean for all of this to happen--"

"Go." You shriek and he flinches back. His lower lips tremble as he tries to hold his tears back to no avail. In a shaky voice, he says, "I'll give you some time to calm down but I'll be back. I'll fix this."

"God, Wonpil," You suck in a shaky breath, "for once in your life, I wish you'd leave it alone."

He jerks his head away, wiping at his tears furiously, "I'll see you later."

_____________________________

You struggle to hold back tears as you wait inside your cramped studio apartment. You don’t know how much longer you can stand to do this— lie to your parents about getting fired and blacklisted, telling them that you quit for moral differences, accepting money from the man who ruined your life just so they wouldn’t find out for a little while longer.

But you couldn’t do anything to help yourself, let alone support your family without Wonpil’s charity. The only jobs you are able to get now are in the service industry and those barely pay your rent and living expenses. You couldn’t even go back to your hometown and your family for fear that they’d figure out the truth, and you just couldn’t let that happen.

You knew your father would insist on getting back to work in order to help support the family. You barely even had him convinced that his condition doesn’t allow him to work and that he needs to rest. If he finds out you not only lost your job but also any hope for a future one in that field, he’d go back to work right away, and that could very possibly kill him.

Your siblings’ future now lies unknown. The eldest of your siblings after you is a senior now, and soon you’ll have to tell her that she isn’t going to college like you promised her she would. She has to abandon her dreams in order to get a job to help provide for the family, and as your other siblings grow older, they too would follow in her footsteps; a family that came from dirt and will die in it, that’s what Wonpil’s ideals have cost you.

After everything you’ve done, after all you’ve gone through, you’re still nothing. It’s funny that Wonpil is fighting for the poor and innocent when he’s the one who has proven to you once and for all that the rich will stay rich and the poor will stay poor and under the feet of the rich.

The case he betrayed you for was a loss in the end. After a long, tedious trial, his clients were forced to settle because they couldn’t afford to pay for a trial that kept getting prolonged, a strategy the rich and powerful employed in order not to lose doomed cases, in the end making the poor people poorer and worse off than they were before. That’s what Wonpil does. He makes people hope and believe that maybe, just maybe the world isn’t as shitty as it seems, only to shatter them completely when he can’t follow through on his beautiful promises. He breaks them because he made them hope.

Hearing the doorbell ring, you get up to answer it, moving mechanically. After you swing the door open, you stand in the way so Wonpil wouldn’t be able to barge in like he tries to sometimes.

He hands you an envelope which you take with a heavy heart. Every envelope you accept is a debt piled on you that you’ll live the rest of your life paying back.

“I’m working three jobs right now but I hope to find something with a better pay soon so I can start paying you back.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.” He rushes to say, but you cut him off. “Yes, I do.”

He sighs and stares at the floor, fiddling with his finger. It annoyed the hell out of you. “Is there something you want?”

His head shoots up, eyes wide at having been caught.

“I—“ He clears his throat after he chokes on the word. “I miss you.”

You hate yourself because of how his words still affect you, how you wish you could fall into his arms and let him comfort you until there are no more tears left in your eyes.

But you won’t cry. You won’t let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. Never again.

“Goodnight, Wonpil.” You say coldly, closing the door in his face before he can say anything else.

______________________________

#wonpil smut #wonpil angst #day6 smut #day6 angst #sub!idol #dom!reader

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jflemings · 4 years ago

Text

baby, we bleed red and gold | f.w

warnings: Possible grammer mistakes

summary: The twins get a whiff of a plan that Draco and his buddies are hatching for the upcoming game and decide to get you involved in their plan to intimidate them. the tables turn and you get in the way of the serpents. Fred follows through with a promise.

authors note: I’ve had this sitting in my drafts unfinished for a couple of weeks now so I’d thought I’d smash it out. Once again another Gryffindor!reader that plays quidditch, I can’t help myself. Next fic will be multi house, promise.

Angelia had been absolutely kicking your asses in practice leading up to the match against Slytherin and to say you guys were prepared was a severe understatment. The atmosphere was unmatched when the lions and serpents went head to head; the age old rivalry sat thick in the air as the butterflies settled in the pit of your stomach and your hands clamped around your broom.

Up and ready to go with Ange first in line leading the pack, the seven of you got ready to kick off. It had been raining all week and the smell of the pitch took over your senses as you took heavy breathes in through your nose in order to calm the zoo in your stomach.

A flaming head of red hair came down to ear level with you on your right side.

“nervous, l/n? don’t be. Freddie and I have got your back, these serpents won’t lay a finger on your pretty little head” George’s tone was assuring but the smirk set on his lips told a different story. You had an overwhelming feeling that the twins were up to no good on this particular Friday night.

“Georgie’s right. No one is gonna get to our precious little y/n as long as we’re around”

you had to look up to make eye contact with the older twin, a grin gracing his pretty face and a simple wink thrown your way sent your heart into a frenzy. The hound in your rib cage couldn’t be ignored and neither could the whitening of your knuckles from holing the broom in your hands far too tight.

George stands up straight to be eye level with his other half

“Heard Malfoy barking orders to his sorry excuse of a team” Fred’s eyebrow quirks and silently beckons his twin to continue.

“Take out the twins he says”

Fred snickers and knocks his twin with his right elbow “like that’s the easiest thing in the world”

“I say we do something about it”

There it is. that’s the plan, take down the opposing team one by one, in whatever way they can.

Your head lifts and your ears perk as an idea comes flying through your head. The brothers are being rowdy and it somehow only grows your confidence and the bright idea cooking up.

“alright. I want in” the mischievous tone drips off your voice and the smirk gracing your lips can't be hidden when two hands mold to either shoulder and the pair are once again at your ear level and absolutely baffled at your statement. Sure, you got in with the twin’s pranks from time to time but you swore off foul play and mischief on the pitch; You were not about to risk the house cup for a laugh. When they don’t speak you continue.

“If the two of you keep Crabbe and Goyle distracted and off my back i’ll knock Pucey and Warrington around a bit to give dear old harry here enough time to catch the snitch” Your eyes were no longer fixated on the back of Angelia’s robes but instead giving side looks to the boys.

Angelia bounces on her feet and notates her neck back and forth before becoming completely still, almost like she’s trying to list the pros and cons of letting the three of you potentially sabotage your finale game.

She takes a deep breath out.

“If you three mess this up for us, you’re all benched for the first quarter of next season and if anyone asks I had zero involvement in this plan of yours”

You share a sly grin with the twins and George stands up straight while twisting his broom in his hands while Fred lingers by your side, you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

His mouth comes closer to your ear “If Pucey and Warrington are giving you too much of a hard time, let me know and I’ll give ‘em a fright, yeah?” His honey brown eyes scan your face with a sincere look while searching for a reassuring answer. You know that even if you had told Fred that you can take care of yourself if it even looked like the boys were giving you a rough time he’d have them off their brooms faster than you would ever realise.

All you can do is nod before Angie let’s the team know it’s kick off time. You all fly to your positions and you give Fred and George a side glance and nod, getting two smirks in return.

Madam Hooch kicks off the game and it’s on. The quaffle is in your hands and Warrington is tailing you while trying to dodge the twins, with little success. Angelina comes into your view and quicker than your body can process, you’re passing the quaffle on and scoring. Lee’s voice comes over the microphone.

“Brilliant set up and goal from l/n and Johnson! Gryffindor takes the lead by 10 points”

Angie looks over her shoulder and gives you a thumbs up before flying off ready to score again. That’s how the game goes for another fifteen minutes, you and angie scoring three times before Harry and Draco get the snitch in their sights. they’re flying down near the house stands and you easily spot Hermione, Ron and Ginny’s voices within the crowd of students.

The sheer excitement and pride you’re feeling puts you in a momentary state of bliss before a beater’s bat is flying your way. You narrowly miss it and spot Marcus Flint sporting a sickening smirk.

“Maybe if your bite matched your bark, your team would actually have a good chance at winning tonight, y/n” Pucey laughed before following flint toward the hoops.

This interaction meant little to nothing to you because everyone on that pitch and in the stands, including Pucey, knew damn well that you could take any one of the quidditch players at hogwarts one on one. But just because you weren’t bothered by the comment didn’t mean that someone else felt the same.

******

Fred knew how to keep his cool during games. After playing with his brothers since he could walk, he quickly figured out that you can’t always take your anger out on people flying on magic broomsticks a good 150 metres in the air.

So when he watched Pucey make a snide remark about you he didn’t know how to handle the overflow of anger crossing through him other than to take a page out of George’s book and attempt (and almost succeed) to knock the slytherin boy off of his broom completely.

The bludger sent flying towards one of the opposing chasers was anything but accidental and it was all George needed to know that it was time to show Malfoy and his team what taking down beaters actually looked like.

Your thoughts were racing when George caught up by your side diverging bludgers away from you

“I told you your pretty little head wasn’t getting touched this game” The younger twin smirked while diverging a bludger. George followed you to the hoops and cheered you now when you scored, once again putting Gryffindor back in the lead.

The game went on and on for another hour and a half; both teams going back and forth with no sign of mercy.

Alicia and Katie were on a roll. Their technique was unmatched when it came to scoring double goals, you were lingering behind incase they needed you as a distraction or for a pass off but when Katie yet again scores for your team it is immediately known that the odds are once again in your favour.

*****

With the quaffle once again in your clutches and the hoops in your direct eyeline nothing was set to get in your way. Pucey was trailing behind you with taunts and smart ass comments trying to throw you off your game.

“C’mon y/n, you think that’s what it’s gonna take ta get rid of me?” You could barley hear him over the wind in your ears until he was right up beside you with Warrington now joining him on your left. You were cornered.

“now now boys, wouldn’t want to get in my way would you? it’s not gonna end well If you keep riding my tail like this” The ever prominent smirk on your face was matched with Lee’s voice playing over the microphone letting the crowd know of the current score.

The two boys stopped mid air after you flew away from them catching up with the twins.

“Malfoy’s idea to shake up the twins a bit. Let’s see if we an give them a scare and get one of their star chasers out of the way” Warrington’s eyes scanned the pitch and found his teammates equally malicious ones.

Adrian hesitated before getting Goyle’s attention. The younger beater flew over to his older teammates whilst simultaneously trying to focus on the important game at hand.

Adrian spoke harshly and hastily “Draco needs more time to catch the snitch. It’s time to do what we talked about.” Goyle understood immediately and got into position.

Unknowing of the plan the opposing team had been coming up with against yourself and your teammates you continued on as you would. Making plays, avoiding bludgers and scoring. Fred and George were doing their best against Goyle and Crabbe but it was becoming obvious that Fred was becoming angry and his plays and hits were getting sloppy. His usual cool, confident demeanour had disappeared and it seemed the Goyle was successfully riling up the older twin.

Your attention was now split between the game and the boy you fancied. Angelina could see this and ordered you and Alicia swap on the pitch, finally sending you off for a much needed break. Alicia had made it onto the pitch fine and was now in a solid position to help Angie and Katie in what would hopefully be the final play.

The wind had begun to pick up since the start of the game, blowing your robes and hair all over the place. You were too slow to notice the bludger flying at a great speed toward you with a weasley twin hot on it’s trail.

A head of flaming red hair came into your view and a string of cursed seemed to follow. Fred was now positioned completely in front of you, his bat held high after a hit.

“Can’t catch the snitch so you get your pathetic excuse of a team to do dirty work? Thats low, Malfoy.” Fred’s voice was booming and the anger basically seethed out of him, turning his face the same colour of his hair.

“Ya know, Malfoy if you didn’t spend so much time playing dirty and actually trained your team maybe you’d have a chance of beating Gryffindor” George cupped his mouth to make his voice echo all over the stands.

Your stomach bubbled with anger when Fred turned around to face you.

“Angelina would have my head on a platter if she knew I encouraged you to get back out there. Have a rest, let the girls take over. Georgie and I have a bone to pick with Malfoy and his minions and we wouldn’t want you getting in the way of that.” His tone was comforting as he lightly took your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before flying off while swinging his bat.

You watched bludgers intensely follow the Slytherin players from the players stands, the feeling of Fred’s hand still settling into your skin. He kept his word the remainder of the game. All the players, especially Warrington and Malfoy, got a fright once Fred left you in the stands and if it wasn’t for harry finally catching the snitch you’re certain he and his twin would’ve put the whole team in the hospital wing for at least a week.

*****

The game had finally ended after almost four hours of play. You were tired but proud of your team and their talent. Fred and George flew down to where you were now standing on the stands and gave you a big, sweaty, exhausted hug.

“You guys were amazing tonight! Slytherin didn’t see what hit them” you lazily joked, a lopsided smile now present on your face. George patted your head affectionately

“Yeah well if it wasn’t for Freddie over here you probably would be in the hospital wing right about now.” George elbowed his brother and gave you both the biggest smile he could muster before mounting his broom to fly to his dorm. “I’m off to have a shower and hit the hay, being the best beater in Hogwarts has it’s toll on a man’s body ya know” a light yawn came from the boy’s mouth before he flew into the stars, the only thing you could see where his robes fluttering behind him.

Fred’s right arm makes it’s way around your shoulders and you lean into his side while wrapping your arm around his waist

“I don’t think you will ever fully understand just how much you mean to me, Freddie” you spoke softly

“y/n you mean everything and more to me.” His tired gaze found it’s way to you “I told you i’d give those nutters a fright, didn’t I? was only returning the favour, really. Couldn’t let them misplace a hair on your head now could I?” He spoke a-matter-a-factly and your other arm wrapped around his middle, with him placing a delicate kiss to the top of your head

“we bleed red and gold, baby. I’m always gonna have your back, on and off the pitch; I’m in it for the long haul” your head tiredly cuddled into his chest

“In it for the long haul, ay? good ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

#fred and george #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley #gryffindor #harry potter #harry potter fic #pegswrites

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years ago

Text

♡ pairing — jumin han x gn!reader

♡ summary — jumin han is running for office. as it turns out, so are you.

♡ tags/warnings — political enemies to lovers, a bit suggestive, some angst, set after saeran’s after ending.

The first time you see Jumin Han is during an interview at a morning news channel. Your whole team is by your side, some of them taking notes while he spoke. Why would a businessman want to be Prime Minister? You don’t know but you don’t really care right now.

You scoff loudly when he starts talking about big data and AI and how they could be used in politics to make decisions.

You had been working since you were young to get where you were right now. You had gone to Law school with a scholarship and were chosen valedictorian. You had worked in politics the last ten years of your life, so to see the rich son of the CEO of one of the biggest companies waltz into the election like he’s supposed to be there just infuriates you.

The campaign is long and hard. You two never meet during interviews but you make sure to address the fact people aren’t numbers that can be predicted and that while big data can be helpful, you need to address the political and social nature and take them into account before making any decisions. You also mention Jumin’s lack of political experience but no matter how many interviews you go to, you see his numbers rising by the minute.

The debate is brutal. Even if you hate him, you have to admire how much his campaign chief worked because he had just the right information at any minute, information he used to win the debate. In a couple of weeks, he also won the election. You send out a congratulatory tweet to your opponent and then call the day off for you and your team, locking yourself in your apartment with a bottle of wine.

The very same night, you receive a phone call from none other than Jumin Han. He mentions how good of a job you did at your campaign and that he actually liked some of the ideas you had presented at the debate (the ones that weren’t opposed to his at least). He invites you to be a part of his team and you say you’ll think it over. The call ends and you take a swig from your wine bottle, wondering if it’s a good idea.

You end up accepting.

He invites you to dinner to go over the details and plans he has and you start realizing maybe he’s more than some entitled rich kid. There’s something that seems to be motivating him, something that sparked his political ambition and you’re determined to find out what it was.

Even though you see him every day at his new prime minister’s office, you end up having dinner with him two or three times a week. At first it’s because he doesn’t really have time to go over certain details with you, but soon enough the conversations start getting more personal.

You confess to growing up with little to no money and having to work your ass off to get a scholarship. He mentions having to resign from his position at C&R to be able to take care of his friends. You start remembering the whole scandal around his company and the previous Prime Minister. He talks briefly about the Choi twins, who you have only heard about from the news and he shows you a picture of them and a girl sitting on a field, big smiles on their faces.

Jumin's expression softens as he remembers the fate of every one of their friends. You learn that the twins and the girl are living in the countryside and are happy, Zen, the actor, is now on Broadway and Yoosung, a younger friend of his, is studying in Paris. Jaehee is the only one who stayed and the person he trusts the most.

There are so many things to learn about Jumin Han. You notice he always wears stripes and that his thirst for knowledge is never ending. His humour is refreshing and you find yourself laughing at his remarks. You see him a lot more relaxed during your dinners than at the office and start to long for the time you get to share a dinner with him.

You start wishing wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance his lingering eyes on your face as you speak during dinner are more than just professional admiration.

A year goes by and you get to meet Chairman Han. He is a perfect gentleman with you and joins you and Jumin for dinner. He asks you if you’re single and not so casually mentions Jumin is as well, and he would love for such a capable and intelligent person as you to be a part of his family. You confirm you are single but make no comment about his son, hoping your burning cheeks don’t give you away.

Later that night, Jumin texts you and apologizes for his father’s behaviour. You call him to dissipate his worries away but you end up talking with him about everything and nothing deep into the night.

The day Jumin confesses his feelings is after an allnighter. You are the only ones in the office, dealing with a lot of paperwork and working on a proposal for a crisis the country is facing. Jumin orders in your favourite snacks and you make coffee for both of you as you keep working. It’s 6 am when you finally finish so you both just sit at his office and watch the sunrise together.

“I’ve really come to care about you a lot more than I planned,” he says and you smile at him.

“Thank you?” you tease.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He says so in such a calming voice you wonder if he’s joking. Your head is turned to him, lips parted in surprise, your eyes big and cheeks flushed.

“Which is probably going to be a huge problem with HR,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. You can’t help but laugh at his comment and he looks back at you, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve fallen in love with you too, Jumin.”

Jumin is surprisingly good at managing a relationship in the workplace. After he makes sure everything is good with HR, he treats you as just another worker while you’re in the office, leaving the kisses and soft touches for the privacy of his penthouse. It’s a little strange for you at first but you adapt and learn to admire him even more than before.

It doesn’t take long before it’s public knowledge (of course Jumin had to mention something about the nature of your relationship during an interview). Photographers follow you around and you see your face in magazines already calling you the first lady. You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that crawls up to your face every time.

Sundays at Jumin’s apartment were a dream come true. Breakfast is made of fresh coffee imported from Colombia, homemade strawberry pancakes from your lover’s hands and you wearing nothing but one of his shirts and your underwear around his penthouse.

You teach him how to dance in the kitchen and even make him look for you around the house in a version of hide-and-seek, only he gets to kiss you every time he finds you. Jumin orders lunch for both of you and watches you ramble about whatever you want, an enamoured look on his face.

You make love on his bed as the sun is setting, golden hour hitting Jumin’s face in such a way you feel you’re falling for him once more. He’s gentle and warm, holding you in such a way you can just know he’s never letting you go.

You know he’s told you before you’re the first person he’s ever been intimate with but if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had trouble believing he had previous experience. The way his fingers trace your skin and take the time to learn every inch of your body, paying attentio to every moan and shudder is heaven-sent.

Jumin is always focused on your pleasure rather than his own and will make it his case for you to come undone for him several times the moment you step a foot inside his bedroom.

Jumin Han’s ideas and work ethics are accepted by the people. They’ve noticed good changes around the country and how transparent he is about everything he does, the data of his plans always open to the public. They also notice your influence on some of the decisions he makes and even if it’s a couple of years away, there are already rumours about a reelection.

You tease Jumin about running again one day during dinner.

“I’ve actually given that some thought,” he admits. “But I’d rather have you run this time with me on the sidelines.”

You kiss him over the table.

Jaehee is a saint and you end up forming a friendship with her as well. You even convince Jumin to give her a week off and she goes to see Zen on Broadway. Zen and Jaehee went for a couple of drinks after the show and you notice the lack of photographs from the bar compared to the amount she had from before the show. Jaehee avoids your questions and then ends the call when you start teasing her about getting laid and if Zen used his wolf ears on bed too.

One of the off days you sleep at your apartment rather than Jumin’s, you find a package waiting for you. It’s a few days old, reminding you how little time you actually spend there. Jumin’s offer for you to move in with him replays on your mind but you wave it off, not wanting to rush anything and potentially ruin the best thing that has happened to you in the last few years.

You take the package to your living room and prepare a cup of coffee before you open it. There’s no name on it but yours and you start to get worried. Before getting more ideas, you open it and see a huge stack of papers. They are all part of an investigation you’ve heard about.

You have no idea why someone would send you information about the last Prime Minister and the RFA.

It’s almost 3 am when you end up revising all the documentation. There’s a missed call and an unopened message from Jumin you didn’t have the heart to answer. Not after all you’ve been reading.

“Can I please speak to you privately?” you say the minute you enter his office the next morning. Your stern voice makes everyone quickly walk away and Jumin raises his eyebrow at you. You lock the door behind you and walk over your boyfriend’s desk.

“You didn’t answer my calls last night,” he mentions but you ignore him, rather taking a seat in front of him.

“I want you to be honest with me, Jumin.” The lack of a term of endearment makes him squint his eyes. “I want you to be honest out of respect for the amount of time we’ve been working together and out of the love you say you have for me.”

“I am not a liar.”

“Did you really use your money and influence to get Jihyun Kim out of jail?”

Jumin and you stare at each other in silence, both of your faces hiding the turmoil of emotions behind.

“Rika is at a mental hospital,” you continue. “And you paid for Jihyun Kim’s lawyers and he got released in just a couple of weeks. His status or location is now unknown. So I’m asking: Jumin, did you get Jihyun Kim out of jail after he participated in a cult and helped Rika kidnap and torture people, including the Choi twins?”

Jumin crossed his legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Jihyun has been my friend since we were children—”

“I asked you a question.”

“How did you get all that information? Saejoon Choi’s testimony was private to the public.”

“You seem to have more enemies than you thought.”

“But who would—”

“Answer me!” you interrupt me, raising your voice. You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “Just answer, Jumin,” you plead.

His eyes look down and then back to your eyes. You think you must have really been in love with him to think there was a possibility the papers that were sent to you were forged.

“Yes,” he sentences.

"I trusted you. I thought you wanted to make things right, to make people accountable. You said so during your campaign, you said so to me,” you confront him, your heart breaking in a million pieces. “I looked up to you. I respected you. Looks like you're just like every other silver spoon."

Jumin stays in silence as he watches you leave the office. When Jaehee comes back, he realizes he’s been looking at the door the past couple of hours. She confirms you’ve left the building and also handed out your resignation letter. She doesn’t dare to ask what happened and he makes a point not to address the situation either.

You never ask for your stuff back. There’s a couple of books you had been reading, your slippers and a rose gold robe he had given you for cold days. He puts them all in a box and sends you the package.

He is not surprised when you return it, along with the documentation that was sent to you.

The next time he sees you is during an interview on the morning news. He’s sitting along with his team, watching you announce your campaign for the next term. The lady in front of you asks why did you decide to leave his team.

You give her one of your political smiles (Jumin has learnt to recognize every one of them) and shake your head softly.

“I don’t think it’s okay for me to disclose that,” you answer.

Jumin wonders if that means you still love him.

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #mysme jumin #mm jumin #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc

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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

Note

Another thing about how rwby views trauma survivors reacting to their abuse or unfortunate background is that it frames the solution to healing is by serving in armed forces. Weiss and Blake joined Beacon to escape their abuser. Ren and Nora joined Beacon after the loss of their families. Winter joined the military to escape Jacques and I'm assuming will become the new Atlas general after Ironwood's death. The Huntsmen Academies are all framed as these safe havens (literally with Mistral) for anyone who can carry a weapon, meanwhile anyone who can't or doesn't want to join, or joins a group outside of the institution is depicted as bad.

To say that this is all muddied would be a huge understatement because even if we put aside the complicated message of, "Overcome your abuse by learning to punch back," at this point the combined huntsmen-military is no longer presented as a means of escape. Rather, between the rewriting of Winter's history – she has apparently been manipulated by Ironwood this whole time rather than choosing the military as a means of escaping her abuser – as well as the military aligned huntsmen – FNKI aren't heroes like RWBYJNOR anymore, willingly protecting their home, they're children who have been forced into this conflict – there's now this major divide between fighters-on-their-own and fighters-as-part-of-the-institution. We could even read this as extending to the huntsmen academies themselves, given that one has fallen, one was destroyed, and the other lost its figurehead. They used to be presented as havens for struggling individuals... now, not so much. The plot's message is not that heroes win by banding together through established structures that were designed to help those coming from bad circumstances (note how aware Ozpin is of these backstories: Qrow's bandit tribe, Blake's White Fang history, looking into Ruby's defense of the store, etc.), but rather you win by rag-tag individuals making decisions based on friendship.

Yet simultaneously, that divide is by no means neat and tidy (since plenty of stories have that latter message). As we've discussed elsewhere, RWBYJNOR is ingrained in these structures despite the story rejecting them. They got their initial training at Beacon (how many fans have argued that they learned enough there? That they're basically full-fledged huntsmen already? So, that school was pretty important, yeah?). They worked with Ironwood for months. They're using the prestige of their licenses to get people to listen to them. They're hijacking military equipment to give the world orders to prepare for an attack. Ruby became a general in all but title in that moment, in the same way that Weiss became the Remnant equivalent of a cop when she tried to arrest her father. Volumes 6-8 suddenly wanted to send an anti-military message without considering the context of their story (what does a military mean in a world where unambiguously evil monsters attack, as opposed to a world where these "monsters" are minorities?) and they failed to separate the heroes from the structures they so passionately reject. You cannot have the group stand in opposition to Ironwood and everything he represents while also encouraging the audience to oohh and ahhh at Jaune whipping out his huntsmen license to lead a group of civilians to safety. The supposed cruelty of the former and supposed heroism of the latter are meant to exist simultaneously, despite the contradiction. We went from the message that huntsmen academies, including Atlas', are a haven from abuse, poverty, etc. but now, suddenly, certain types of escapes are no longer morally sound. So just ignore how many of the heroes took the "wrong" path.

And then on top of all of that we have Rhodes. RWBY is pushing the individualism message hard nowadays – that a group of friends is better than a general and his soldiers just ignore that Ruby is their leader and they all follow her orders – yet it's Rhodes' individuality that is criticized in Cinder's flashback. He, as a single person, tries to take on the complex situation of helping an abused child and he failed. The fandom's reaction to his efforts is pretty telling because most kept falling back on structural solutions: "Why didn't he just call CPS? Why didn't he get her admitted early like Ruby? Why didn't he approach some superior to fix all this?" Most fans seemed to grudgingly acknowledge that kidnapping Cinder and raising this traumatized kid on the road while hunting grimm was... not the best idea, so they turned to the very things they've rejected in Ruby's part of the story: laws that people have to follow, schools with an hierarchy that can serve as support, someone above you whose orders you follow and whose seniority can help you in a tough situation. In Cinder's flashback people wanted Remnant to have structural solutions because, clearly, leaving one flawed man to fix this situation on his own didn't turn out so well. They (and the writers) just don't want Ruby to have to obey those same structures because Ruby is the title hero they've grown to love over eight years. We feel like we know Ruby and we assume that if Ruby is in charge she'd totally make the best decision. But Rhodes? He's a stranger, someone we see for less than ten minutes, so his flaws are far easier to home in on. Few are willing to acknowledge that Ruby is Rhodes on a much larger scale, trying things because she wants to help, but ultimately doing far more harm because she's incredibly inexperienced and is just running on her own, individual ideas, not any of the structures in place that are meant to deal with such crises. Rhodes' "Idk what else to do, so I guess I'll teach a tortured kid how to defend herself and hope for the best" is Ruby's "Idk what else to do, so I guess I'll drop Atlas on Mantle, leave with the Relics, move everyone to Vacuo, and hope for the best." The primary difference is that while Rhodes is punished through his death and the narrative makes it clear that this was the wrong choice (Cinder murders everyone and becomes a villain), whereas Ruby's screwups are continually framed as heroic. And that's because the show can't make up its mind about this structural vs. individual approach. Do huntsmen need to be held responsible for their actions, or do they need complete freedom to do the right thing with the belief that anything that goes wrong was completely out of their hands (Yangs' take)? Well, that depends entirely on which huntsmen we're talking about. RWBY's idea that some people are intrinsically good and others intrinsically bad means that the writing – and the fandom – can demand rogue huntsmen be held accountable while simultaneously cheering the group running away from arrest; curse Clover for following orders while simultaneously gushing over how loyal the group is to Ruby; condemn lies that Ozpin gives while simultaneously justifying the ones Ruby gives, etc. RWBY has no clear message, just the insistence that whatever our heroes does is good. The path they've taken, learning to fight to escape horrific situation is a good thing. The path Rhodes laid out, teaching Cinder to fight to escape a horrific situation, is a bad thing. It comes down to the characters, not the situation.

Finally, yeah, there's a complete lack of acknowledgment that either option – structural or individual – alienates those who don't know how to fight. This is seen most clearly in Whitley who asks why he'd want to be a huntsmen when he can afford an army, yet when armies are painted as unquestionably bad, the story won't admit that this leaves Whitley stranded. He had no way to escape his abuse like Winter and Weiss did. He had no way to defend himself when Weiss shoved a weapon in his face. The story never had to grapple with where it's left characters who can't fight and who shouldn't make the evil choice of relying on soldiers because Whitley unexpectedly got on Weiss' good side and gained her protection. It doesn't matter anymore because Whitley is a Good Guy now who the group will take care of. But if he'd continued to disagree? Gone to his room instead of calling Klein? If, in the future, he does something that annoys his sisters and they decide to ignore him like they did before? Well, Whitley is screwed. In a world besieged by grimm – with attacks growing with each volume – he wanted to rely on an army to help solve these problems. But then that was said to be wrong, the general died, and the army, far as we can tell, was left behind to die as well. So what's left? Rely on the huntsmen. Just hope that there are enough (there aren't), that you get a good one (not a Lionheart, or a Raven, or a Cardin, or a Dudley, or...), and that the good ones care enough to bother protecting you. Even if the story hadn't gone out of its way to show how terribly flawed individual huntsmen are – from Lionheart's devastating betrayal to Qrow teaming up with Tyrian – from a practical perspective it's just not enough. Volume 8 showed without a doubt that in a war like this, one built on a witch's ability to summon endless grimm, an army is necessary. Salem would have been into Atlas in a second without those soldiers holding her forces back. Yang, Jaune, and Ren wouldn't have gotten to the whale without that army. Yet the story never acknowledges this, instead pretending like the few individuals we see – the limited numbers the characters keep admitting are horrendously limited – could have somehow saved the day without that assistance. Everything we're seeing nowadays – which characters can use these institutions to escape abuse, which can lie to help the war, which should rely on structures as opposed to their own ideas and physical power – is a mess of inconsistent, often contradictory messages.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas #abuse tw

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progressivedreamings · 4 years ago

Note

Roommates au for Kiribaku

It ended up being longer than I assumed but I hope you’ll like it!

"Yo!"

It's 5:48 AM on a Tuesday, and Kirishima is waving with an energetic grin at his doorstep, with a big red suitcase right next to him.

"What the fuck?" Bakugou reacts expectedly, glaring daggers into his best friends face while the offending redhead does not deter at all, walking past him into his house.

"What the fuck?" Bakugou repeats again, with less venom but more shock, as he watches the other drag his suitcase into the middle of his living room and yawn. The door closes itself.

Kirishima Eijirou, Red Riot, a hero who sits number 7 at the Hero Charts. Surprisingly the only hero in the charts who works in Kansai, even though he's not from there.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Despite his angry appearance, Bakugou doesn't have any actual power behind his words, already surrendered to whatever Kirishima had decided before showing up here.

Kirishima explains that he's in Tokyo for a long term job, one that they needed his defensive skills. He adds a bit shyly that he doesn't think he can be that much help, and if they wanted defence, there are other heroes who could do just as much if not more.

Bakugou grunts. Number 7, and yet he still laughs as he speaks such non-fucking-sense. "That doesn't answer my question." He decides to say instead - he'll beat it into Kirishima's head later that he's one of the best out there. "Why are you /here/?" He asks again instead.

Kirishima laughs embarrassedly. Bakugou feels his chest tighten. He had forgotten how bright Kirishima was.

"I don't have another place to go so I thought I'd crash at yours. It's fine, right?"

Of-fucking-course it's fine, even if Bakugou initially seemed against the idea, it's not like he didn't miss Kirishima. It's been two years since the other moved to Osaka after the Osaka-Incident, an appearance of a villain gang that the Kansai heroes had a tough time restraining. Red Riot volunteered himself to help, as "There are already many top heroes in Tokyo. I want to be where I'm needed."

It actually inspired more heroes to work in smaller cities, at the same time, villain activity increased in those places. Something about balance, Bakugou guessed. Still, he hated that it took away his best friend from him, not that he ever said anything about it.

And now, said best friend stood not that far away from him, stretching his back and already making himself at home. "So, where's my room? I'm beat."

Just like that, they begin to live together, already used to each other's routines from their dorm days.

Bakugou wakes up at 7 am, has the bathroom to himself until 8 am while Kirishima is still asleep enjoying his dreamland. He wakes up around the same time the door bangs close.

9 AM Kirishima wakes up with the sound of Bakugou leaving home, in the kitchen, there's already breakfast waiting for him.

They begin to send more texts to each other. "What time will you be home?" "I'll eat out tonight." "I'm shopping, need anything?"

Kirishima comes home early and takes over the cleaning duties. He can't cook well, so the first few attempts of him taking over the dinner are met with a highly unimpressed gaze.

Kirishima blushes and mutters "We can order pizza or something." Bakugou bites into his tasteless katsu-curry (how do you make curry with no taste). "It's fine, let's eat."

Bakugou, on the other hand, makes food like a 5-star restaurant. Kirishima always asks for seconds and looks like he's in heaven.

More often than not, Bakugou finds himself staring at Kirishima those times. He has a soft smile on his lips, his eyes curved gently and a low appreciating hum that makes Bakugou's heart beat faster. He won't ever admit it, but he wants to see that expression more often.

Happiness looks good on Kirishima.

There are times where one of them come home with injuries.

A secret understanding between them helps create a new routine that mends them physically and mentally, a silent agreement for what the other needs.

Kirishima needs validation. That he did his best. That he'll be fine. He needs Bakugou to be softer around the edges, so that's what he does. "I saw on the news. They're fucking lucky you were there." Bakugou says nonchalantly, but Kirishima knows the feeling behind those words and feels warmth embrace his broken heart and begin to heal slowly.

Bakugou, on the other hand, needs confirmation. He needs to know everything is fine, that he managed to protect and save. He needs to see that nothing changed. Kirishima welcomes him home and becomes his anchor with eased practice. Puts on a movie and lets Bakugou stare at him the whole time, so the other can make sure Kirishima is safe.

They both dance around the fact that they need each other the most.

Bakugou goes to bed early, even on nights where Kirishima asks him to join when they go out with the "Bakusquad". For good old times, he says, and Bakugou rejects.

He thinks with him there, the 'old friends' won't be as comfortable. After all, all he does is yell and get angry and insult. His only redeeming quality lately is that he's a fucking good hero. One of the best, even if he's only number two.

So Kirishima calls them over instead. Texts Bakugou: "I called the squad over so make sure we have enough food for 6, thanks!"

It's a text so Bakugou's curse words as a reply aren't as effective.

Still, when they arrive, there's enough food for 6 and a dejected-looking explosive murder god.

Despite all his worries, the others are just as friendly as they were in high-school, teasing him for his grumpiness. Kaminari scolds Bakugou for never calling him. "Don't make us miss you, man. At least answer my calls from time to time."

They all know Bakugou yells when he's embarrassed so his expected "Shut up idiot face!" doesn't faze anyone. Kirishima looks at Bakugou warmly.

Bakugou catches his gaze and feels his heart skip a beat.

Why he looked at him so softly, like he's seeing through him (he probably is), like he appreciates him (he probably does). Bakugou doesn't think he deserves Kirishima, but he'll take it selfishly anyway.

The others brought alcohol, because what's better than drinking and reminiscing on a weekend with old friends- especially now that Kirishima is back with them.

That's smart, getting drunk.

The previous sentence was sarcasm, because the more Bakugou drinks, the more he finds he can't control his gaze away from the red-haired menace.

Who by the way looked brighter and brighter the more he looked at him, with an attractive blush on his cheeks. His eyes had a certain spark in them that Bakugou knew which meant Kirishima was having fun. His smile and laughter loud.

The alcohol made it much harder to chain down the route his thoughts inclined to go. His heart acted individually, opposed to all the self rules he's inflicted on himself.

'Ah,' Bakugou thought. 'I want to kiss him.'

Their eyes met. In the background, Sero is arguing with Kaminari while Jirou is filming their pseudo fight about which retro hero would be number one if they were working at their best now.

Ashido is loud, but Bakugou can't make out what she's yelling about. Something about 'Deku can win against them anyway!'. It's probably a good thing he's not paying any attention.

Kirishima looks surprised for a second but then flashes him /that/ smile. Which makes Bakugou sick to his stomach, because that's his best friend.

If he knew what Bakugou was thinking, he'd probably want to move out immediately, wouldn't he?

And so Bakugou learns to keep his feelings secret, while it grows within his walls of self-protection. Kirishima, oblivious to Bakugou's inner turmoil, continues to be himself, supportive and kind.

Until...

"What the fuck are you doing, shitty hair?" "Oh! I think I found a good apartment near the agency."

There's good news and bad news. Good news is that Kirishima decides to move back to Tokyo. The villain gang in Osaka is already defeated. There is actually a hero team rising in the charts that he can depend on to take care of Kansai instead. He will go back if necessary but after these few months in Tokyo, he's assigned a much more important role, and the issue doesn't seem like it will go away soon.

The bad news is that because he's thinking of permanently moving back, "I don't want to impose any longer! I'm sure you want your old lifestyle back!"

The idiot couldn't be more wrong, but it's not like Bakugou can confess to it.

Still, it doesn't stop him from angrily leaving the house by exclaiming he has work to do. "Do whatever the fuck you want."

The week Kirishima is house hunting, he's also facing many backlashes from Bakugou, and he can't figure out why the hell his best friend is so angry.

And he should, right? He's his best friend. Even if they weren't near each other for these past two years, they managed to pick up from where they left, see through each other's lies and pain. Kirishima couldn't ask anyone for any advice because he should know Bakugou the best. He should be able to understand why Bakugou is suddenly so angry with him to the point that he hardly speaks at dinner anymore.

Then strange things begin to happen. Every house he manages to somewhat find, calls him back to say they received a better offer, or they changed their mind. Suddenly he can't find a place to move into.

Kaminari has a friend who's renting out his apartment, so he offers to help Kirishima out. "That'll be great, thanks!"

That night he talks to Bakugou, "I think I finally found a place." He laughs. Bakugou frowns deeper.

Ah, this is bad. He can't hold it back anymore.

"Do you want to leave that much?" He asks angrily as if he's blaming Kirishima, and perhaps he is. It's definitely his fault that his heart aches in ways that he's never felt pain.

"Katsuki... Do you... not want me to leave?" Kirishima finally sees through the mask of indifference. Bakugou hates the expression on his face, can tell his friend is already understanding more than Bakugou was willing to let him know.

"Took you long enough to figure it out, you fucking idiot," he yells instead, voice just as explosive as his quirk.

And there's the question waiting to be asked, at the tip of Kirishima's tongue. Because he'd want to know, wouldn't he? Why wouldn't Bakugou want Kirishima out, even if they were best friends, he'd want his freedom back, wouldn't he? Shouldn't he?

There's silence and neither of them wants to break it. Bakugou because he knows he'll say too much if he opens his mouth. Kirishima because he knows Bakugou will close up if he's the first one to speak. And out of the two of them, one had much less patience than the other.

So he breaks.

"Because I fucking need you here."

Need.

"Because I'm fucking lonely when you're not here."

Want.

"Because even if it's impossible for you to feel the same way, I..."

He, what?

Bakugou is red with fury, embarrassment and something deeper that Kirishima can't put a finger on. His heartbeat is loud in his ears that every other noise other than Bakugou's is irrelevant.

"Feel what way?" Kirishima asks, demanding, his hands shaking. There's that light in his eyes again, hopeful and determined. Bakugou can't take his eyes away.

The silence stretches. Bakugou's anger slowly dies out the longer he meets Kirishima's gaze. Finally, they are honest with each other.

"I'm not going to fucking confess."

"You can kiss me though, right?"

Another grunt and Bakugou pulls Kirishima in, the spark in his hand meeting the instinctively hardening skin on his neck. Another type of explosion that Bakugou never knew takes over the fluttering in his chest, taking over his heart as their lips meet. Forceful, demanding, daring.

"You're not fucking going anywhere."

It's not like the living room didn't already have figurines of Crimson Riot, a punching bag, the bathroom already dominated by both their presence. The guest room already decorated by all Kirishima's furniture. It was already 'their' house, in every small place Kirishima left his impact on.

"In that case, I'll leave the rent to you." Kirishima jokes breathlessly after their kiss - as manly as kisses go, he had to give the first prize to Bakugou- the blonde knew how to kiss. Then again he was biased.

"No fucking way, in fact, you're paying half the bills from now on."

With a smirk, he waves to Kirishima, turning his back on him to go to the kitchen to clean the dishes or something.

"Eeeeehhhhhh." Kirishima whines, but there's a soft smile on his face.

After all, he's always known he loved Bakugou. And if it took them more than 7 years to come here, 2 of which they were separated... He'd just have to make up for all the lost years where Bakugou had to get in contact with his own feelings.

It will be worth the wait.

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polar534 · 4 years ago

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Hockey AU

Hi! I wrote an AU... that's not really an AU. Just a bunch of things and scenarios I think would happen in the future for Lumity revolving around one central idea:

Amity in a hockey jersey. (The Feral Brain though that started it all)

Sooooooooooo. Here we go. This first post is mostly about the Hockey Portion of the AU but like I said, it's ended up being alot of different scenarios. It is equally a (short term) future AU as it is a sport AU. I do eventually plan on making all of this into a chapter by chapter fic on Ao3, but if this gets some good reception I'll keep posting updates on here. I've already got multiple scenarios summarized and 4 fully written chapters.

ok but enough of that. Here goes:

Facts and World Building:

- This is about a year and half after the events of the show. (The girls be about 15-16)

- These girls are just dating. There's no drama. They are incredibly happy together. Which they deserve.

- Amity and Luz are living in the human world with Camilla.

- They spend weekends with Eda at the palace.

- Lilith and Eda are currently trying to restructure the entire Boiling Isles coven system. They have overthrown and taken down Belos and the Clawethorn sisters were named to lead in his stead. To the majority of The Owl Fam's surprise.

- Luz and Amity help them in their free time going around and helping everyone adjust and heal from the tyrants rule.

- The portal remains in the castle under protection. The Owl Fam and friends of The Owl Fam are welcome to use it, but any others must go through Luz. (Eda's decree)

- They attend Hexside during the day and homeschool themselves on human subjects before they go to bed.

Hockey Overview:

- Firstly. Amity's team is called the Otter's. She specifically chose that team because she knew the name would make Luz happy.

- Secondly. The entire team adores Luz. She's at almost every practice and is there for every game. So although she's useless on the ice, she is just considered a member of the team.

- Thirdly. Amity is extremely careful to stay within the rules of the game, but she doesn't hold back. Her role on the team is mostly defense. Her job (which she mostly assigned herself) is to keep the path clear for her teammate with the puck. If that means absolutely bodying anyone who comes near, then she does just that. (I mean, let's be honest she played heavy support in the grudgeby match we saw her participate in.) Amity has to really struggle with keeping her competitive/perfectionist side under control and not wrestling the puck away from the strikers every chance she sees an opening that others don't. It's a left over from her time playing Grudgeby.

- Fourthly and most importantly: Amity has tried to teach Luz to skate. Many times. Luz cannot skate. Luz cannot even operate on ice. If she is on the ice, she is clinging to Amity.

Summary/Timeline Thingy (under a read more cut because... oh my god I have a problem):

At first when Luz starts going (purely because she wants to support Amity), she's pretty silent. Just working on either school work, her glyphs or making a meal plan for both Eda and her mother because both are too busy/crazy to seem to take care of themselves. The team doesn't mind, and finds it pretty sweet actually. Especially when Luz will randomly look up and compliment one of them on a shot. Or how the girl seems to just stop mid-work to stare transfixed as the new blood is practicing.

Now that's just cute. Nobody can deny that.

Or that the newbie completely changes demeanor from stone cold and calculating to absolutely flustered and soft as soon as her girlfriend slides clumsily onto the ice to greet her at breaks and after practice.

Also. Cute.

All that slowly changes though because Luz is like... SUPER excited about Amity being on a sports team. Especially Hockey. She stays mostly quiet during practice because this is Amity's thing and she wants to respect that, but as soon as they get off the rink together Luz is excitedly discussing new plays and strategies or the best ways to hit the other players so they stay down longer. It's Amity's favorite way to wind down after practice. She's usually too tired to keep up with Luz's energy but she listens and relaxes into just how excited her girlfriend is.

Amity always takes into account her girlfriend's post practice discussions and will often put them into play at the next practice or game. It's extremely noticeable. Despite being new to the sport, and frankly seemingly still surprised by alot of "normal" customs and rules, Amity is getting really good. Not only is she skilled and strong but she's also catching on to strategies and plays that even the coach doesn't seem to always get. (Rec league because official coaches and team games sound boring honestly)

She starts to get approached by her teammates, asking her for advice or tips. While she can answer some of them, she normally just yells up at Luz (sitting on the bleachers) out of nowhere asking for her opinon, to which Luz somehow always has an immediate response prepared. Most often not even looking up from whatever she was doing to answer it.

Whenever someone asks her about they know so much about sports. Amity usually shrugs and just replies, "We're a team." Sometimes with a quip about how Luz makes them watch too many movies or something about Azura. That's when the team starts approaching Luz equally about stuff, and insist she start sitting on the sidelines with the team rather then the bleachers. Whenever they ask Luz why her and Amity know so much, Luz just gets a huge shit eating grin and waves her hands in front of her face as she says: "It's magic~".

Since keeping Amity's witchiness a secret is one of their biggest priorities, this always makes Amity really nervous. Not to mention she knows Luz is also referring to their relationship as magic which makes her get immediately flustered as well.

Its a win-win for Noceda. She gets to have fun with a secret only they know, and gush about Amity at the same time.

Soon enough, while Luz never actually goes out onto the ice, she's just a part of the team. Amity gets voted team captain, much to the current team captain's relief and while Amity keeps a monitor as to how her team is doing on the ice, Luz keeps a monitor as to how their plays are doing from the sidelines. They work together to switch members out at perfect moments and the Otter's go from a very basic team to being one of the top teams of the area.

Random Facts (read: I have no category for this stuff but it's important):

- Luz will often steal Amity's jersey, because its really baggy and comfortable and because it's Amity's. Amity has a STRUGGLE every time it happens. 1. It's way too cute. And 2. "Luz, I need that." "You going to come and take it Blight?"

- Regardless of how bad she is on the ice, Luz is really good with the hockey stick and surprisingly accurate with her shots. Her and Amity will often practice together in a field, and, when they're sure no one's watching/visiting Eda, they'll add their own magical twist to the game and have a 1v1 witches hockey duel.

- Luz loves it when Amity checks the shit out of players on the ice. She is one of THOSE hockey fans. And her girlfriend is brutal.

- King and Amity have a really good relationship in Hockey AU. They are both vent buddies. While Amity is in much healthier place and doesn't put as much pressure on herself anymore, she still gets easily frustrated. King, being the little dude he is, is also easily frustrated. Every week they get together for a vent session in which they chill out and watch a stupid movie in the background and complain about it to get the night going. It always ends up that they pause the movie before it's over because they're too busy going off about other things bothering them.

- Lilith and Eda share mentoring roles for both girls. It's not an, Eda for purely Luz and Lilith for purely Amity situation.

- Camilla is incredibly proud of her two girls and is incredibly supportive as well... but she can no longer go to any games or practices. The first time Amity got hard checked by an opposing player during a game, Camilla nearly stopped the entire match demanding she go down and look her over and make sure she didn't have any injuries. When Luz and Amity approached her that night, after she was asked to leave the game, she was grateful for the excuse. "You know I love and support you both, but I cannot watch... that. With good conscious. You'll just have to make sure you come to me if you're actually hurt. Ok?" She'll still come to Amity's big games, despite her anxiety.

- Amity has a scar from an injury she received in her first season's Semi-Final game. (I have ALOT of notes on this... it is one of the 'scenarios' I listed at the top.)

#toh #the owl house #lumity #toh au #the owl house au #Hockey AU #still figuring out tags #all the apologies #will post more if people like it

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duhragonball · 4 years ago

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Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 51-56

This is the “Seras Coming of Age” part of Hellsing, but the chapters are all one-off titles: “Last Mission”, “Get Away”, “Yaksa”, “The Man I Love”, “Ogre Battle”, and “Angelous,”

Last time, Zorin Blitz’s company invaded the Hellsing HQ, and Seras managed to kill them all except for Zorin herself, and then she used her psychic whammy, forcing Seras to relive some traumatic moment. We saw one of the Wild Geese get this same treatment, and he briefly saw his dead daughter before Zorin killed him. As for Seras, she relives the deaths of her parents. Years ago, two guys barged into their home and shot them. The circumstances aren’t entirely clear, but they must have had some forewarning, since Seras’ mom hid her in a closet and told her not to come out no matter what. But when she saw what they did to them, Seras became so enraged that she attackedthe men and stabbed one in the eye with a fork.

The other guy shot Seras, and while she must have survived, she remembers laying on the floor as the guy she stabbed decides to rape her mother. I’m not even sure “rape” is the right word, since she was already dead, but the guy doesn’t care because the body is “still warm.” You’d think he’d be too upset about losing an eye, but maybe he’s high on cocaine or something.

I don’t think you need me to tell you this, gentle reader, but hol-ee shit this dark. We knew Seras’ parents died when she was young, and it wouldn’t be hard to speculate that they died in some violent crime, but Seras watched it happen, and she stabbed a dude in the face, only to get shot herself, and she watched her mother’s body getting molested before she passed out.

And this gives us some insight into what Alucard saw in her that night in Cheddar. There, Seras was surrounded by ghouls, many of them her comrades in the police department, and a vampire who promised to rape her before drinking her blood. Alucard found it remarkable how she persevered in this horror, but now we see that may not even be the worst thing that ever happened to her. It’s not even the first time she got shot!

And from the earlier flashback we saw, Seras was hellbound to become a police officer like her father. After a trauma like this, it’s amazing that she’d want anything to do with the police, since those men killed her father for digging “too deep” into whatever they were involved in. But Seras quietly, defiantly chose to follow in her father’s footsteps, only to suffer a similar fate.

Because, let’s not forget, Seras is dead. She died in Cheddar, because Alucard had to shoot through her to kill the vampire who had taken her hostage. Then she agreed to become a vampire like him, and join the Hellsing Organization. Once more, she has quietly, defiantly, chosen to carry on in this life of public service.

But none of that matters to Zorin Blitz. She just wanted to dredge up all this trauma to keep Seras preoccupied long enough for Zorin to do this...

Oh, also she lopped off Seras’ left arm, but I liked this impalement panel better.

On top of that, Zorin slashes Seras’ eyes, which was pretty gruesome and shocking. When I started watching the Hellsing Ultimate OVA, I couldn’t wait to see what happened next, so I trawled YouTube for clips of Seras, so I had a pretty good idea where the character was headed, and noticed that late-story Seras was missing a left arm. So Zorin cutting it off didn’t surprise me much, but everything else she did to her was a surprise.

Then, just as Zorin seems to be ready to finish Seras off, Pip Bernadotte gets the drop on her and whacks her with the butt of his rifle. Machine gun? Semiautomatic? I don’t know from guns. He hits her with it, is my point. Then he shoots her with a different gun to put the exclamation point on it.

There’s two other guys left in the Wild Geese, and they toss smoke grenades to cover Pip as he tries to carry Seras to safety, but he’s wounded, and then a Millennium soldier wakes up and shoots him in the thighs. Was that guy playing possum? The Geese take him out, and Pip even makes it back to them, but I’m not sure what good that does anybody. Then Zorin gets back up and cuts him down with her scythe. I don’t think she chops him in half or anything, but he’s not getting back up again, that’s for sure.

Seras calls out to him, and he steals another kiss. I guess he forgot about the last time, because he acts like he “finally” managed to do this. Then he asks Seras to drink his blood, which will allow her to win. I guess someone must have explained enough vampire lore to Pip for him to have figured this out. Maybe Seras herself told him how it worked, which makes it doubly-meaningful for him to say this to her now.

And Seras starts wailing with grief, before Zorin finally mocks her for it, calling Pip an insect. I’ve seen a few people poke fun at this scene, because it’s kind of weird for Zorin to just stand by while Pip and Seras have this final moment together, but Zorin’s a sadist. Much of what she’s done in these past several chapters has been about reveling in her enemies’ suffering. She took her sweet time with Seras earlier, which was the only reason Pip managed to help her, and now she’s taking her sweet time again, like she’s enjoying this drama.

So Zorin uses her psychic whammy again, but this time it doesn’t work on Seras. Maybe because Seras is already in the middle of a terrible trauma in the here and now. She couldn’t do anything to avenge her parents back then, and she was powerless against the Cheddar Priest, but this time? This time she knows exactly what to do.

VENIT AEVUS ILLE, O MESSIAH, O MESSIAH

YUDULIYA-VELE YUDULIYA-VELE

EN ESE MOMENTO ZORIN BLITZ SINTIO EL VERDADERO TERROR.

So yeah, this rocks. The anime version does this cool thing where all the blood soaks up into her clothes and stains them red. Maybe the manga was going for the same thing, but it’s harder to tell in black and white. I find it kind of strange how Seras’ eyes grow back, but her left arm does not. I’m pretty sure she could reform her arm, but chooses not to. Instead, she’s got this black ectoplasm-y thing, like the same black stuff that Alucard uses when he’s not holding back as much.

Then Seras starts slaughtering Zorin’s men. Didn’t she already kill them all? Yeah, but there’s more. The anime tries to cover for this by having Zorin explain that some “late arrivals” showed up. Well, they did have to enter the building single file to get past the mines, so it makes sense that Zorin would keep some in reserve in case there were more traps inside.

Seras is my favorite character in this whole thing, and since these pages of her kickin’ ass speak for themselves, I guess I’ll talk about why I like her so much. I’m pretty sure I saw a cosplay photo of her on tumblr, and I found the design intriguing. She’s a vampire, but dressed in something like a military uniform, kind of like the “Bridge Bunnies” in Macross. I looked up Seras to find out what she was from, and I was like “Oh, Hellsing was the show Team Four Star has been abridging, I guess I need to watch that anyway so I can watch the Abridged version and get the jokes.”

Mostly, I just like the idea of a vampire with a very professional mentality, as opposed to the whole Lost Boys/What We Do in the Shadows/Buffy kind of aesthetic. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but we see that sort of thing all the time. I’ve also seen a lot of “reluctant” vampires in my time. Vampires who try to avoid doing any vampire stuff, or going about their business like the vampirism is just this inconvenient obstacle. Hellsing presents this other option, where vampires like Alucard are used for the purpose of anti-vampire countermeasures. He’s been turned into a weapon, but he’s basically just Dracula with a fresh coat of paint. Seras is more firmly rooted in the concept. Alucard was a vampire who became a sort of cop, and Seras is a cop who became a vampire.

And while I liked the idea of Seras being like “Oh, well I didn’t want to be a vampire but I’ll try to make the best of it”, I quickly found out that she wasn’t just a cop with pointy teeth. There’s moments where she can be scary and creepy too. “Sir, yes sir, my Master.” It sums her up very neatly. This is a vampire who can be polite and respectful and professional, but she can also get very deep into the more horrific aspects of this thing. She’s got layers. Zorin Blitz tried to peel them back, and look how that’s working out for her.

Once the rank and file goons are dealt with, Seras goes after Blitz, and just wrecks her shit. Blitz tries to punch Seras in the face and it does nothing. Seras just bites all her fingers off and spits ‘em out. Then she announces that she refuses to drink Zorin’s blood, not a single drop. This is important, because Seras was always reluctant to drink blood. She said she feared that drinking blood would mean the end of something inside of her, but now she’s crossed that Rubicon. One might suspect that she’d suddenly want to drink more blood, but no. She drank Pip’s as a means to an end. Zorin’s blood would serve no higher purpose, and I think there’s an implication that she doesn’t want to dishonor Pip’s sacrifice. Desperate, Zorin tries to use her power on Seras a third time, and then this happens:

Okay, so at first Zorin sees Seras’ memories, like before, but now there’s all this stuff from Pip’s memories, and then Warrant Officer Shrodinger, of all people, shows up. Zorin is confused by this, but he explains that he’s “everywhere and nowhere,” which means he can appear in this psychic vision just as easily as he can teleport between Brazil and England.

Schrodinger is here to pass along a message from the Major. See, Zorin disobeyed his orders, and he would normally punish her for this, but he and the Doctor are busy with a “most interesting toy”, so they’ll just leave it to Seras to take care of punishing Zorin.

Yesterday, I think I figured out what Zorin’s disobedience was. Before I was confused because she didn’t start attacking until Seras opened fire on her blimp, and that only happened because Seras was shooting at the rockets fired by the Major. Everything that Zorin did afterwards could be considered a matter of self-defense, but therein lies the problem. Namely, what was Zorin’s blimp doing in the line of fire to begin with?

Because once Seras shot her down, everything Zorin did next was sort of her only option. She pretty much had to attack the mansion, and brave its defenses, whatever those happened to be. And the Major knew that this was a big unknown. He warned Zorin about Seras Victoria and while he didn’t seem to know exactly what her abilities were, he regarded her as an “arch-enemy” on the same level as Alucard. That’s why he wanted Zorin to hold off and wait for the rocket attack. It was intended to probe the mansion’s defenses, and once it became clear that they had anti-aircraft guns, and that Seras was eagle-eyed enough to shoot down their rockets, then the Major could have ordered Zorin to find a different way.

But instead she was too close and gave Seras a target, which precipitated everything else, up to and including this:

Yeah, Seras just drags Zorin across the walls until her whole head smears apart. Cool!

With Zorin dead, Seras delcares her intention to take the fight to the enemy, and the last three Wild Geese salute her before she leaves. One way or another, they realize that Pip has become a part of Seras now, and they pay their last respects to him through her.

Then Seras flies toward London, using her left arm-thing to make cool bat wings. And this is a good illustration of what Seras is all about. Once, she might have been horrified at the thought of doing something like this, but now she sees it as a way to carry on with her duty. This was what Alucard had been trying to get her to understand, but sometimes you just have to work these things out in your own way. Seras is about utility, and now that she has a use for these vampiric powers, she’s finally prepared to embrace them as her own.

In London, Schrodinger reports back to the Major and informs him of Zorin Blitz’s death. He’s not surprised, and even declares “our ruin has begun”. Schrodinger points out that he’s leading everyone, friend and foe alike, into destruction, and the Major simply observes that this is war. Millennium didn’t come to London to win, they came to London to fight.

Then the Ninth Crusade shows up. Recall that, earlier, Enrico Maxwell organized a military response to deal with the Millennium invasion of London, but he hasn’t come here to save the civilian population. Instead, he’s treating them as enemies, just like the Nazi vampires. Somehow, there’s still living people in the city, and as dawn approaches, they see Maxwell’s helicopters putting off some sort of light show. I don’t know what you call this, but the people on the ground think it’s angels, and then Maxwell orders his men to open fire.

I want to point out that the newly promoted Archbishop Maxwell is riding into this battle in a special truck with a glass box for him to sit in. He’s surrounded by microphones so he can address his troops and the people below. Also the truck is hanging from a helicopter. It’s stupid and pointless and over-the-top, so naturally the Major is highly impressed with Maxwell’s style.

#2021hellsingliveblog #hellsing #seras victoria #pip bernadotte #zorin blitz #the major #warrant officer shrodinger #enrico maxwell

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bubblegum-writes · 4 years ago

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quid pro quo

request: Hello!! I was thinking if you could write something with Katsuki where his s/o is a healer / booster for him and his quirk - basically her healing and quirk boosting abilities work best with quirks that are associated with warm temperatures, she can boost his damage by 75% - in short he has to look after her and stuff because when she boosts his powers she gets weak and so after fights they snuggle with each-other in his dorm 🥺💗 sorry if this is too specific 🥺

A/N: IM SO SORYR LORD HAVE MERCY THIS IS LATE BUT LIFE IS SHIT YA KNOW!!!!! also dont u worry ur pretty little head no need to be sorry! im tryna explore new ways of storytelling so i apologize if this is shit lol. also the italics are gonna be semi-flashback things if that makes sense. AGAAAIIN bnha and katsuki bakugou aren’t mine so copyright go and eat my entire asshole lol. also this aint edited at allllll lol

For having a quirk that works best with quirks that raise the surrounding temperature or warm temperatures in general, Japan wasn’t the best place for whatever god to put you at when you were born. The temperature could get decently hot during summer, that is true, but the winters can be equally, if not more, brutal. Not only did it affect your quirk, but your entire mood and aura. During these colder months, your classmates felt both the cold winter winds and your sour mood. No matter how hard they tried to cheer you up, they couldn’t help that your body simply wasn’t made for the cold.

“C’mon, let’s go out and have a snowball fight!” Denki had suggested from his spot on the common room couch. Classes were over for the week and plenty of snow had fallen on the ground for there to be ample fun to be had within it. Mina, Sero, and Kirishima all hollered in excitement, while the rest of those present either hummed in agreement or moaned in annoyed interest. You, however, didn’t say or even acknowledge the blonde’s suggestion, as you were too busy lying on the floor wrapped in a blanket with multiple heating pads on you.

“What about (Y/N)? We don’t want to exclude anyone due to health or quirk conditions!” Tenya nearly shouted as he lectured everyone about the importance of ‘never leaving a man behind’. You briefly smiled and thanked the universe for making Iida so considerate (and even more briefly entertained the idea of going out). You turned yourself and all the blankets around you towards the rest of the group and smiled slightly. It wasn’t lost on anyone that the cold was never kind to you, so they all started coming up with ways for you to enjoy the fun they had planned.

“We could tape the blanket around you!” Said Tsuyu, pointing to a blushing Sero’s elbows.

“No, we could get one of those hamster balls, heat it up, and put you in!” Izuku proposed.

“You stupid fucking extras, I have the best idea,” came a voice that had yet to speak during the whole ordeal. Katsuki was leaning back in one of the couches, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Everyone turned silent as they looked towards the explosive man, even you raised your head from the ground to lend your ear to what he had to say. You had yet to notice that he had joined everyone in the common room, assuming he went to workout earlier. “(Y/N), you come out with us and have a good time,” his lips slowly turned into a light-hearted smirk, “Afterwards, I’ll take you to your favorite ramen shop to warm up.”

Immediately, the room erupted in noises of confusion and elation. Confusion due to the fact that no one else was aware of yours and Katsuki’s certain… relationship and elation due to the fact that everyone could finally go out and play. What you and Katsuki had was a cute relationship, born out of necessity but had grown into something more. He knew that you despised the cold, and that your quirk didn’t work well in it either. He found this out when you two had been partnered one day in a tag-team sparring exercise.

“Alright, (Y/N) and Bakugou, you guys are going against…” You didn’t bother paying attention to who you were going to battle; all you could focus on was the fact you had been paired with Katuski, your well-kept secret of a crush. You felt your body flush with heat as you searched the training grounds for him. You eventually found him with his eyes already burrowing into yours. You saw the fire within his eyes to be one of anger or maybe even hatred, but you couldn’t have been farther from the truth. You had also caught his eye; sure, you weren’t the most powerful person in the class, but your quirk had the ability to boost those that were at work around you. On top of that, you could also use the same quirk to heal those around you, at the cost of expending your energy and use it to restore another person’s body.

“Oi, (Y/N), get your ass over here!” Katsuki yelled from across the small area as he waved you over. Shaking your head out of your haze, you jogged over to him with a nearly unnoticeable shyness on your face. “So, I have a strategy and you’d better listen to it!” Katsuki nearly spat in your face. You winced, but during the whole time he was talking, you had to focus everything you had on what he was actually saying, and not on his beautiful red eyes, or his soft-looking hair, or his toned muscles, or his plump li-

“Did you get all of that?” He taunted with one perfect eyebrow raised. Despite your best efforts, you'd had completely and utterly failed to pay attention to his strategy.

“Uh, could you give me the short version of it again?” You shyly asked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“Fine! Long story short, you stay behind me and make sure I don’t get too hurt and I’ll make sure they don’t touch you.” Katsuki started the sentence with a snarl, but by the end, his face had relaxed and his eyes almost held a tenderness to them. You told yourself you were seeing things as you peered into his eyes and just quickly nodded your head. The both of you took your spots on the field, and without noticing one another, you both were glancing out of your peripherals to make sure the other was okay.

This was also when you noticed your opponents for this fight.

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath. You and Katsuki were up against Shouto and Mina. You weren’t too worried about Mina and her quirk; as long as you could avoid her streams of acid, you were in the clear. Shouto, on the other hand, would be difficult for you to overpower or even avoid. If he hit you with his ice quirk just once, you were almost guaranteed to be done for, for at least the next couple hours. There was fear clearly written on your face as you noticed Shouto, and Katsuki didn’t ignore it. He knew the basics of your quirks and that the cold would inhibit you, and sometimes even harm you far more than a regular person.

“I need to keep (Y/N) safe,” Katsuki thought as Aizawa started the sparring fight. Part of his mind told him that he thought that because if she went down, most likely, so did he. However, the majority of his conscience told him he thought that for far more romantic and loving reasons.

“C’mon you fucking extras!” Katsuki yelled and teased as he blasted himself high in the sky, making sure you were moving far away from your guys’ opponents. He focused on Shouto and Mina and tried to decipher what their strategy was. Mina started excreting acid from her body as Shouto started to use his ice quirk to quickly strike you down. You were running as fast as you could from both of them to try to gain as much distance as you could before Katsuki could blow them to smithereens. However, that didn’t quite happen. Shouto had absolutely no ill feelings towards you, but this was a battle he planned on winning. Both he and Mina used as much power as they could muster to ensure that you were out of the fight so they could focus on Katsuki. However, Katsuki realized this too little too late. They would take you down, then focus on him

“(Y/N)! Watch it!” Katsuki yelled as he lowered himself to the ground close to Shouto and Mina. Despite the short distance between Katsuki and the opposing team, they still focused on you. You only turned around in time to see Shouto’s ice start nearly grasping your feet and ankles; you ran even harder as you nearly hyperventilated trying to run away from him. Katsuki saw the absolute horror in your eyes, and launched himself to stand between you and Shouto and Mina.

Despite all he had given, he was too late.

Right after you turned around for the second time, you saw and felt the ice start to curl around your feet. A harsh scream left your lips, which made even Aizawa cringe and almost call off the whole battle. Mina had long stopped her acid attacks to ensure you weren’t hurt by her quirk, but she watched in horror as Shouto slowly encompassed you in ice. Your body convulsed in an almost demonic way, your feet facing outwards as you bent at the waist as the ice crept upwards. Your screams only increased in both volume and levels of anguish as tears started leaving your eyes. You turned towards Shouto to start pleading for him to stop, but he did as soon as he saw your red and teary eyes. The ice had reached your chest at this point and your arms were held by your sides. The pain you felt was extraordinary; your body felt as if it were cracking in every joint and bone it had. The pain was so horrible that as soon as you closed your eyes to blink away the tears, you had no choice but to finally pass out from the pain.

“(Y/N)!” Both Mina and Shouto yelled as your head went lip as your body was encased in ice. Shouto ran up to start thawing you, but Katsuki quickly landed and kicked him out of the way.

“Get out of the way, fucking Half-n-Half!” He snarled at the Todoroki boy. Katsuki gave him one of the most evil looks he could muster before he turned around and put his hands on the ice around you. Hehastily went to work to get you out of the ice as Aizawa started walking (albeit quickly, as he was concerned for his students’ wellbeings) towards you all. The ice quickly melted before the teacher could get to the scene, and before Aizawa could put a word in, Katsuki declared, “I’m taking (Y/N) to Recovery Girl!”

Before Aizawa or even Shouto or Mina could mouth their opinions, Katuski had melted your body from the ice, picked you up bridal-style, and started sprinting towards the nurses’ office. You were barely holding on to consciousness, but the last thing you saw was Katsuki’s face as he ran to get you help.

After that terrifying incident, when Katsuki refused to leave your side even after Recovery Girl had given you the all-clear, it became clear to you and most of the class that there was something more to your guys’ relationship than classmates. No one would dare to comment on it for fear of being the object of Katsuki’s anger. Which led to this moment, where the class was gearing up to play in the snow with everyone stealing glances at Katsuki helping you into your snowgear. No one had ever seen him so gentle and the look of pure adoration in his eyes was hard to miss.

As soon as everyone was thick with layers and looked like plush, colored marshmallows, the class ran from the common room to the outside where the fluffy white flakes had created a plush playground for them. Small cheers and whoops erupted as everyone went their separate ways, with Momo and Ochako starting to build a snowman with Mezo using his multiple hands to grab as much snow as possible to add to the growing pile. Denki and Eijiro had started a snowball fight between them and Shouto and Izuku, and Fumikage and Toru had started building an igloo.

You, however, were shivering out of your socks. You and Katsuki had barely made it out of the doors before you stopped in your tracks.

“Tch, come on, have some fun with these losers,” Katsuki murmured in your ear, causing shivers to run up your spine, “and I’ll let you be the big spoon for once.”

You immediately ran to join the nearest group of classmates faster than you could say, “Really?” Throughout the day, you spent quality time with most everyone in the class. Truth be told, they were happy to see you come out of your comfort zone and actually enjoy all the weather had to offer. You even forgot why you were out in the cold in the first place, you were having so much fun! However, as the sun flew threw the sky and evening became night, everyone finally tuckered out and retired back to the dorms. As everyone else went to their respective rooms, you and Katsuki gathered in his.

He knew that spending time in the cold would make you tired and possibly even sore because of your quirk, but he always remembered how to make you feel better again. Usually, it was a bath that he had prepared, scorching hot with a bath bomb or two, take-out, and whatever was on Netflix that fit the mood. Today was no different; as you warmed up and chilled out in the bath, Katsuki called your favorite ramen shop and ordered your favorite item for delivery. After a while, you came out of the bathroom with your pajamas on and a face mask upon your face. He smiled, a smile only reserved for you, a soft and gentle smile he was, quite frankly, scared to show anyone else. You scuffled over to his bed and joined him under his blankets, and quickly wrapped yourself in his arms. Artificial heat didn’t compare to heat produced by a human, especially that of Katsuki. Quickly forgetting both the incoming ramen and your face mask, you fell asleep in his arms as he traced meaningless patterns over your back and scratched your scalp gently. Well, they might have been meaningless to you, but he was consciously drew the characters for “I love you” deep in your skin, just in case you would ever forget.

#bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha fluff #katsuki fluff #my writing

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a-blue-secret · 4 years ago

Text

CHAPTER I

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: mild swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.6k+

AN: Say hello to Yeonjun! :)

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for three years and four months and nineteen days, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

Beomgyu laughed loudly and boisterously, spilling some of the silver wine over his royal blue suit. The two courtiers looked proud of themselves at having made the King laugh so much. Taehyun refrained from rolling his eyes, choosing to not tell them that Beomgyu had been giving over-the-top reactions for everyone who had come up to him.

“You’re absolutely hilarious!” Beomgyu laughed, throwing both of his legs over the throne’s armrest. “Begone, before you kill me with my own laughter!”

The courtiers stepped down from the King’s Corner, looking rather smug. As soon as they were out of sight, the exaggerated grin dropped from Beomgyu’s face and he tilted back his head with a groan.

“Aren’t you trying to play this part a little too vigorously? I mean, it’s been more than two months and yet you still hold these parties. Our palace can’t run like this forever, you know.”

Beomgyu dropped his head further on the armrest so that he was looking at Taehyun upside down. He narrowed his eyes at his vizier, who was standing ramrod straight next to the throne. “You know,” he said, “I like you better when there are other people around. You’re far too annoying when you talk.”

Taehyun rolled his eyes. “Well I don’t like you at all. You’re annoying whatever you do.”

Beomgyu sat up properly, pouting and looking at Taehyun with wide eyes. “You don’t mean that, do you?” he asked, pout turned up to the max.

Taehyun scoffed. “Don’t do that, you look stupid.” Beomgyu glared at him.

Footsteps approached the King's Corner, and Taehyun stood up straight again, face morphing into a stoic expression. A footsman let out a polite cough, standing just in front of the thin curtain. “There is someone else here to see you, King Beomgyu.”

The lace veil which separated the King’s Corner from the rest of the courtroom twitched, and a foreign lord peered inside. Pushing his half-empty goblet of wine towards Taehyun, Beomgyu beckoned them in. Taehyun could do nothing but frown ever so slightly, before tossing the goblet off the balcony onto the ballroom below. He heard a few shocked shrieks and the sound of shattering crystal, and smirked slightly.

“What matter have you brought to me?” Beomgyu asked the lord. “State your name, and the Kingdom you come from.”

The man bowed. “My name is Lord Choi Yeonjun, Your Greatness. I come from the Aruyeo Kingdom.”

Beomgyu raised his eyebrow. “Aruyeo Kingdom? I assume you and the rest of your court were here for the Coronation revels?”

Choi Yeonjun bowed again. “Yes, sir.”

“Then, state your business with the King.” Beomgyu waved a hand in a careless way, though he was studying the elder male’s face closely.

Yeonju bowed yet again. Honestly, this man seemed to do a lot of bowing. “For many years, our Kingdom has been Gojongja’s most loyal supporter. Not once, in over five hundred years, has Aruyeo made any attempt to go against Gojongja. We have remained firm by your Kingdom’s side, never rebelling, never fighting, staying almost as if we had an alliance with you. The previous King refused this, but, with a new clan on the throne, I have come to ask you.”

“Then by all means, ask away.”

Yeonjun glanced at Taehyun. “I see you have made the former King’s son your vizier.”

“Yes, indeed I have.”

“Is it necessary for him to listen to a conversation he has most likely heard already?”

“Whatever you say to the King will be fit to tell his advisor, regardless of my clan and how many times I may have heard your offer,” Taehyun said smoothly. “You will say it infront of us both, or neither of us at all.”

Yeonjun straightened, adjusting his belt. It was then that Taehyun caught sight of the leather whip curled at his side.

“Very well. As I have stated, my Kingdom has been a fervent ally of yours for generations. Therefore, I hoped to finally have our two kingdoms unite fully, so that we can become true allies. Share war tactics, resources, even people.”

Taehyun frowned. Now he knew why Yeonjun did not want him there. He remembered other Aruyeonan ambassadors had come and claimed similar things. King Seohu had always turned them away, however, claiming that Gojongja was stronger by itself than with an ally. Yeonjun was worried that Taehyun would influence Beomgyu's decision, thereby denying Aruyeo an alliance for yet another year.

“Why has your monarch not come to discuss this herself?” Taehyun asked, hand unconsciously coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. “Why send a representative?”

Yeonjun turned to Taehyun fully, and Taehyun realised why this man sent a chill down his spine. His eyes were amber-brown, and distinctively fox-like. He radiated a suspicious aura, and was someone Taehyun immediately distrusted. Taehyun was sure he hadn’t ever met Choi Yeonjun before (he would have remembered such fox-like eyes), and distrusted him immediately.

Yeonjun let out a slight chuckle, turning to Beomgyu. “Will you always permit your vizier to speak for you?” he asked.

Beomgyu eyed Taehyun distastefully, but calmly answered the Aruyeonan. “It gives him pleasure to believe he has control over me. But, he is correct. Why has Queen Erajin not come to me herself? It would have been best to talk it out, monarch to monarch.”

“Her Royal Supremeness has always preferred to act through ambassadors,” Yeonjun replied. “Her ways are mysterious, and it is not our job to question them, but to follow them without complaint.”

Beomgyu frowned thoughtfully at that. Taehyun desperately wished that he could somehow pull Beomgyu aside and command him to not accept the offer, but he couldn’t do so without it seeming suspicious. Taehyun wasn’t sure why he wanted Beomgyu to reject an alliance with the Aruyeo, but after seeing King Seohu turn them away many times, he was sure that it would be a bad thing to do.

Beomgyu tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I see no harm in an alliance with the Aruyeo,” he said. “But there is no use discussing such politics when I am drunk. Perhaps my vizier could schedule a meeting, and we can discuss formally then?”

Taehyun gritted his teeth. This was Beomgyu forcing him to make the decisions. He knew full well that the King would coincidentally forget about the meeting, meaning Taehyun would have to make the decisions by himself. However, perhaps this time it would be useful, since Taehyun would be able to reject the alliance…

“-and I assure you our discussion will be about all the things Aruyeo will have to offer in our alliance.”

… or not.

Yeonjun bowed, and straightened again. Though his face showed no emotion, Taehyun could sense the triumph radiating from him. “Thank you, Your Greatness.”

Once he had left, Taehyun turned to Beomgyu. “Why did you accept?” he hissed. Beomgyu looked confused, and a little hurt.

“Hey, why are you mad at me? I thought you’d be glad that I’d managed to make an important move by myself.”

“Why would I be glad?” Taehyun scoffed. “You’re drunk, and you’re going around agreeing to alliances you don’t even know the consequences of!”

“Why are you so worked up about it, hm?” Beomgyu said, growing annoyed. “Listen, an alliance with the Aruyeo Kingdom would come in handy. Have you seen the size of their military? Combined with ours, we easily overpower the other two kingdoms 50 men to one.”

“How do you know that-”

“And their resources? Aruyeo is famous for its blacksmiths. They create epic weapons out of metals that other Kingdoms don’t even have. Everyone wants to trade with the merchants of Aruyeo because of their exotic goods and the sheer wealth that they bring.”

Taehyun scowled. “Yes, but-”

“Also, their history of war-winning? It’s better to have them by our side than oppose us. As the prince, you studied past wars, didn't you? That Lord was right. Aruyeo hasn’t fought us for over half a millennium. And you can see, also, if you dig into Aruyeo’s battles, that they have barely ever lost a war. And the impact they had on the defeated is incredible. They know so many war tactics, Taehyun. War tactics, medicinal knowledge, philosophy, the sciences… they know so much.” Beomgyu counted on his fingers. “Their Royal war forces, their economy, their intelligence… Aruyeo, out of any of the other Kingdoms, is probably the best Kingdom to form an alliance with. Why are you so against it?”

Taehyun opened his mouth, and then closed it again. All the points Beomgyu had made were scarily good. He didn’t even know why he opposed the alliance so fiercely. Taehyun sighed. “King Seohu would always have me with him whenever he had meetings with foreign officials. Every couple of years or so, an Aruyeonan ambassador would come to him, stating something along the lines of what that Yeonjun guy just said. And every time, he’d turn them down. Said an alliance would only make us weak.”

Beomgyu frowned, then his face cleared. “The Jinju Kang clan were fiercely independent. They valued individual power and glory. They hated alliances, or friends, or having to rely on others. That’s why.” Beomgyu kicked his legs back onto the armrest, draping himself carelessly on the silver frame. “My clan are known for their loyalty and need for allies. They work better as team leaders, instead of just solitary wolves. For me, for my kingdom, this is what I’m going to do.”

“I’m the one supposed to be running this kingdom, aren’t I?” Taehyun reminded him. Beomgyu rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. But there has to be some sort of Gyeongju Choi element to this rule, otherwise people will doubt I’m truly King.”

Taehyun had to grudgingly admit that Beomgyu made some good points. They stayed there in silence for a few moments, Beomgyu trailing his fingers along the intricate gold designs on the floor. Taehyun stared straight ahead at the lace curtain. His mind was plagued by the same thoughts they’d always had been for the past three weeks, ever since Beomgyu became King. He needed to keep Beomgyu on the throne for as long as possible. But not for too long, otherwise the Jinju Kang clan could never come back to the throne. It would be difficult for Taehyun to negotiate with Beomgyu to convince him to extend their contract, but even more difficult if Beomgyu acquired a taste for ruling and refused to give up the throne. It was all one huge dilemma which Taehyun wasn’t sure he knew how to get out of.

“How did you know so much?” Taehyun suddenly asked. "About Aruyeo, I mean."

Beomgyu didn’t look at Taehyun, but stopped tracing the carpet.

“When you pushed me away… I went to stay in Aruyeo.”

“You what?”

“Yeah. Aruyeo have always been welcoming of Gojongja nobles. It wasn’t that hard to get in. So I stayed there, for a year or so. Learned about Aruyeonan history. They’re an epic Kingdom, by the way.”

Taehyun made a noise to confirm he’d been listening. “Also, why did you suddenly become so smart?”

Beomgyu glared, offended. “Contrary to what you believe, I actually did pay attention in my lessons. Heck, I could write down everything written in ‘the Magical Everchanging Book of Clans and their Population’, with all clans that ever existed, in alphabetical order, with citations as to how many people were in the clans when I was just seventeen.”

“Has it been that long since you opened the book?”

“No, it’s been that long since my tutors decided I had no need to open the book since I’d memorised every word, including the numbers of people which changed every single day,” Beomgyu replied curtly.

Taehyun didn’t say anything, just stared down at the patterned floor.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“What clan are you actually from then?”

“Hm?” Taehyun turned to Beomgyu, who was looking at him through dark, slitted eyes. “Oh… I come from the Jeo clan.”

“The what?” Beomgyu sat up, and laughed. “What, do you not have any surname branches?”

Taehyun glared at Beomgyu. “I don’t know, okay? When King Seohu told me three years ago, he never said anything about surname branches. He just told me I was adopted and what my ability was," Taehyun spat.

"What's your ability?"

"Why do you want to know?" Taehyun snapped back. Beomgyu glared.

"You're my subject. I have the right to know what your ability is. God, why are you so defensive over it?" Beomgyu fiddled with a button on his suit, thinking. "Is it something to do with your crazy ability to make magical contracts? Or was that just enchanted parchment?"

"That was just enchanted parchment," Taehyun said. "Apparently, their ability is foreign exchange, whatever that could mean. I haven’t figured out how to tap into this ability yet.” Taehyun leaned against one of the pillars. “Also, I for some reason possess the Jinju Kang clan’s ability of nature manipulation, though I’m not related to their line." He frowned. "Why am I telling you this?"

"I don't know," Beomgyu shrugged. " Did you seriously not know you were illegitimate for years?"

"My whole life. I just assumed I was a Kang."

"Jeo Taehyun…" Beomgyu mused. "Eh. Kang Taehyun sounds better."

Taehyun rolled his eyes. "That's because that's what you're used to." He walked away from beside the throne to look down the balcony at the ballroom floor. "Also, I think we should stop the coronation revels. This is stupid. You're just wasting money and food and our suites by attending to these dumb courtiers who only really care about how close they can get to the throne."

Beomgyu hummed. He'd taken off the silver circlet and was twirling it carelessly around his fingers.

"You shouldn't do that you know," Taehyun berated. "This crown is a precious part of Gojongja history and we don't want you breaking it by playing with it."

Beomgyu grumbled, placing the circlet sulkily back onto his head. "It's enchanted. I'm pretty sure it won't break that easily."

"Well you still shouldn't do it," Taehyun said. "It's disrespectful."

Beomgyu sighed insolently, staring up at the ceiling.

"Also, are you ever going to attend the board meetings? You haven't turned up to a single one since you became King. Do you know how awkward it is to have to explain to the rest of the generals that the King couldn't be bothered to come?"

"Oh, you bore me," Beomgyu said in annoyance. He suddenly stood up, navy velvet cloak swinging behind him. "I'm going to bed." With an air of insolence, Beomgyu swept out through the veil, before abruptly turning around. “If the revels annoy you that much, call them off yourself. And no, I don’t think I’ll be attending any of those board meetings any time soon. They bore me almost as much as you do.” He winked. “See you around, my dear vizier.” Blowing Taehyun a mocking kiss, he disappeared through the veil, mischievous laughter echoing in his wake.

Taehyun blinked, and then growled. He shook his head, gripping the hilt of his sword. "Choi fucking Beomgyu."

Beomgyu's head appeared through the lace suddenly, smirking at Taehyun. "It's 'His Royal Greatness Choi fucking Beomgyu' to you. Oh, and make sure that you air out the Discussion and Tactics Room, will you? When you talk to that Choi Yeonjun, we don't want it looking shabby, do we?"

Taehyun threw a handkerchief at Beomgyu's annoying face. The King only laughed and ducked away, leaving the cloth to flutter to the ground. Taehyun sighed and walked over to pick up the handkerchief. God, Beomgyu was so infuriating…

#court of lies #taegyu #txt taegyu #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt angst #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #taehyun #txt taehyun #txt #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together #txt post #royal au #fantasy au

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ilguna · 4 years ago

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Belamour - Chapter Three (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, death mention

wc; 8k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The beds inside of the Capitol are definitely comfortable. Had today’s events not happened at all, you’re sure that you would have fallen asleep well before your head even hit the pillow. Instead, you find yourself staring at the pristine white ceiling, head flooded with thoughts that refuse to leave.

You’re here. Starting now, you’ve got an entire week to prove why you deserved to be sponsored, as opposed to their trusty District One and Two tributes. A fifteen year old girl, from the poorest part of District Four, paired with a fourteen year old boy. Two very young tributes that already have the odds stacked against them.

Slowly but surely, you’ve been finding your way through the cracks, but eventually there won’t be room for you to slip through anymore. You’re going to get stuck, it’s just a matter of time before it happens. You know you have to look on the brightside, but pointing out the obvious doesn’t hurt much.

For now, you guess you’ll just have to make the most of it.

You can’t be the only one with a nasty case of insomnia. You’d take a bet right now that Finnick isn’t asleep either. Maybe he isn’t staring at the ceiling, and instead he’s staring out his window. Either way, he’s awake and he can’t fall asleep because the terror is clawing at the back of his mind.

You’re not sure what’s worse, being alone with just your thoughts now. Or knowing that back home, your family is in just as much agony as you are. Alyssum is alone in that room by herself if Reed and Mox didn’t move the crib to their room. Reed isn’t going to sleep at all, and the only reason why Mox has fallen asleep is because his body is exhausted from all the crying.

But don’t be fooled, he’ll be up in a few hours, crying from a nightmare, waking up in a room all by himself. You can see it now, Mox burying his face in his hands as he tries to quiet down for the sake of Reed. Reed won’t show it, but he’s in just as much pain as Mox is. Over the years, he just formed a mindset that since he’s the oldest, he’s got to be the strongest too.

Of course, he’ll have his moments where he breaks down too, but it isn’t as often. He lets it build up a lot over time, and sometimes you won’t even know when he’s had his moment. You’ll just be able to tell afterward because he’s much more loose for a couple of weeks. Sooner or later though, he begins to get hard again.

You can’t take it anymore.

You throw the white comforter from your body, sliding off of the bed. On the nightstand, you swipe the silver engagement ring and move around the bed to go and sit in front of the window. It’s not very lively out there anymore since the clock is telling you it’s close to two in the morning. Earlier, when you had first arrived, it was a lot more exciting.

After you and Finnick had watched it the first time, you two went ahead and watched it a second time too, just to make sure you hadn’t missed anything the first time around. Halfway through, Mags and Anchor left with Elysia to go talk about something. You and him didn’t seem to find anything new, just agreed on the fact that the first two districts and Seven would be the ones to watch out for.

Of course, you and him will be watching all the other tributes too, especially during training, just in case there are some skills that the others have that you should take note of. Other than that, the plan is to make an alliance with the other two thirds of the careers, and win.

You guys came into the Capitol train station around nine and were greeted with colorful people and cheering. You and Finnick faked excitement and waved and tried to look good. But as soon as you were shoveled into the car with Elysia, Mags and Anchor, the act deflated and you felt exhausted.

You got signed in at the Tribute Center, and then went straight to your apartment in the building. Elysia didn’t even give you real time to talk to Mags and Anchor, she just sent the two of you straight to bed because of how late it was. Neither of you complained, but you knew the second you got into your room, that sleep wouldn’t be happening. Not with the cheering outside of your window.

The city is pretty dead at the moment, everyone is asleep in their fancy homes. The occasional car will come through the narrow road, but that’s about it.

Tomorrow is a big day, your first real debut in front of people. You’ll get to meet your stylist and prep team, and then take a chariot ride with Finnick to the President’s mansion. Every single thing you do on that chariot will matter. How grateful you are, how indifferent you are. It all will secure your future on how you should act.

Mags will hopefully settle all of that for you, push you in a direction that will actually matter. She’s been doing this for years, she’ll understand if you need to play up an act or not. Being yourself would be the easiest route to take, of course. At least then there will be no chances of you slipping up or whatever.

However, you don’t want to become completely unrecognizable to everyone back home. They’ll understand that you’re doing what you have to, but it’ll be a little disgusting when you never hear the end of it. You’ll get praise for becoming a victor, but some will shoot you down because being yourself apparently wasn’t good enough.

You can never really win.

Slipping the ring off, you hold it out and in the moonlight to get a better look at it. You’d rather not turn on the light and accidentally alert anyone that you were awake at this ungodly hour. Whoever’s awake would tell Elysia, and then you’d never hear the end of it from her. And you’d probably get a headache in the process.

You can’t actually remember any instance in which your mom did wear this ring. She had her wedding ring on all the time, you know that. But she got married before you were born, so she probably stopped wearing it when she got married. You remember seeing it in her jewelry box on her dresser, though.

She used to let you sit on the bed and play with the rings when she got ready for important things. None of which you actually went with her. She only really dressed up for fancy dinners with dad, her colleagues and her boss. One time, you brought out the engagement ring and asked her the meaning of it, since it was tucked away in a special compartment.

And she told you. It was the ring your dad proposed with, the ring she said yes to. She told you that she never liked the diamonds, they were expensive and unrealistic. Instead, she wanted a simple silver band and she had been saying it for years. So, your dad got her the ring of her dreams, and eventually the wedding ring too.

After mom died, you stopped going into the room to sit on the bed and go through her jewelry. It wasn’t a game you were willing to play with your dad. You were always afraid that he was breakable, and one mention of your poor mother would send him in a spiral. He was strong, surprisingly held all of you together despite the fact that Reed had begun to get a little rebellious.

And then he died too, and you stopped going into the room altogether unless it were an emergency. Certain things in that room have gone untouched for a long time, except the wardrobe. That had your mom’s pretty dresses and your dad’s formal shirts and such. Actually, your mom’s jewelry box seems to be an exception too, considering you’ve got the ring.

But other than that, everything in the room would be disgusting to touch. Years of dust built up on the dresser, the bed, the desk and lamps and everything in there. You slammed the doors a little too hard yesterday, and it sent so much dust flying into the air that it’s probably taken all day to settle.

You wonder if your room will turn into the same untouched graveyard if you die in the arena. If Reed and Mox will insist to sleep on the couch so she can have their old room so that yours will be nearly perfectly preserved in time. Your bed unmade, your school backpack open on the floor next to the desk. Projects you were working on, things you had made at school.

You can’t die in there. Your brothers are strong, but not that strong.

You press your forehead against the cold window, closing your eyes. You wish you were back home. You’d take a lifetime of fishing and spearing and tying knots until your fingers were mangled over this. If you win and come back, you’ll never be looked at the same way, be treated the same way, live the same way or even think the same way at all.

Your life is going to be turned upside down and you’ll have no choice but to just live with it.

Yawning, you push yourself up from the carpeted floor and drag your feet when it comes to going back to bed. You place the ring back onto the nightstand, and hope that you’ll at least get an hour of sleep in.

It’s morning before you even realize it. You’re up much before Elysia comes in to tell you it’s a big day. She tells you to spare the shower, just get dressed and be out for breakfast. Today is a big day, after all.

After putting the ring on, you make your way out to the dining room, where everyone except Finnick, already sits. You take a random seat at the table, not too worried about formation. You’re hungry, and you’ve been waiting a while for an acceptable time to go out and eat.

The avoxes serve food immediately. You avoid looking at them, not liking how terrifying their outfits are. Last night when you came in, you thought that you’d been seeing shadows. As soon as you got up close, you didn’t think it was much better. Finnick didn’t look too thrilled with their costumes, either.

The first thing that’s served is pancakes, a healthy serving of eggs and what you can only imagine is bacon, which you’ve never had before. Just looking at it, is a giveaway that it’s greasy and something that you’ll never get at home. Next to the bakery is the butcher, also an overpriced place to buy.

The Square isn’t much better either. It’s the best place to shop if you can’t afford certain things, of course. Body wash, shampoo, things for your house, jugs of clean water and very, very cheap vegetables. However, the times that people bring in wild pigs are the times you send your brothers in.

Watching people just hack off bits of meat as they please is not only gruesome, but sickening too. You don’t mind the fact that it's dead, it’s just watching the knives not making it all the way through the skin and fat the first time they swing makes you a little nauseous. As the years come, you’ve begun to stomach it a lot more. But the thought alone still makes you wary.

The bacon is sweet, nothing at all like you’ve expected. You watch as Mags brings a bowl of chilled fruit in her direction, helping on strawberries, bananas and blueberries on top of her pancakes.

“Makes it healthier.” she winks, and then takes her time cutting up the pancakes.

“Really, it just makes it taste better.” Anchor says, “They don’t have maple syrup today, which is a shame. It’s my favorite.” he brings over the fruit bowl nearest to him.

He and Mags are already dressed for today’s events, which makes you feel underdressed, even if Elysia told you not to bother. Wearing yesterday’s tank top and shorts makes you feel dirty.

Finnick then comes out of the hallway, hair all sorts of messed up. As soon as he sees you at the table, there’s a smile on his face. Without missing a beat, he takes a seat next to you and as soon as there’s food in front of him, he starts eating. By the time you’ve finished your eggs, he’s through a whole plate and has already moved onto ham, hashbrowns and more bacon.

For a while, you’re impressed by the fact he eats like he hasn’t eaten in days. One plate after another, until he begins to slow down and turn green. He leans back in his chair, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead. You sputter out a laugh, shaking your head as you eat a piece of pancake.

“Hungry?” you tease, he gives you a sheepish smile.

“I’ve been waiting hours to eat. I didn’t sleep well at all, last night.”

Just as you expected, you think you deserve a few extra points for that one. Even though it was fairly obvious, it was still a good call. You think most tributes don’t sleep well at all on the first two days. But then the exhaustion kicks in and after that they sleep well, only to be messed up again when they go into the arena.

You find yourself looking forward to a good night of sleep. Whatever will keep you from being sleep deprived inside of the games.

“You should probably have coffee, then.” Anchor says, “Not a lot, otherwise you’ll make yourself feel more sick. But enough to give you a jolt.”

Anchor motions towards the avox, and you move to grab the glass of orange juice. As soon as you’ve taken a sip, you make a face, because the taste isn’t exactly pleasant. But it’s expensive back home, and if you do end up winning, you’d love to tell your brothers about all the foods you tasted, and how they need to taste them too.

Finnick is a little apprehensive when it comes to actually drinking the coffee. He dabbles in it for a moment, and you’re sure that he’s afraid of the heat. But he was testing the taste of it, and you realize it the second he starts to chug it down.

“Finnick…” you trail, he sets down the cup, winces and smiles.

“It tastes so good.”

Elysia sputters out a laugh, covering her mouth when she does. Mags breaks out a smile, sipping her orange juice. She’s got crinkles at the corner of her eyes, showing her age and how often she must smile. It’s nice to know that she hasn’t let the disappointment of watching years worth of tributes die.

If you were in her position, you’re sure you would have holed yourself up in your house by now. Because there’s absolutely no way you’d be able to show your face after a while. The amount of guilt that she must have for not bringing home more tributes, watching all of them die.

You don’t ever want to be in her position, but a part of you hopes you win solely for the fact that you’d get to replace her. She deserves to retire.

“The grooming process is going to be painful.” Mags says, how appealing, “But you have to sit through it. Don’t complain. Don’t resist.”

“Sounds easily enough.” Finnick says.

“You’d be surprised.” Anchor mutters.

You pick apart a sweet roll in silence. This is probably the part where they try to make you look as attractive as possible. Even though the two of you are young, the more beautiful you are, the more sponsors that’ll come through. You shouldn’t want to be unattractive, ever in your life. But now’s a crucial part.

After you’re done eating, Elysia takes you and Finnick down to what’s called the Remake Center. Elysia splits you two off, heading in different directions while she disappears entirely, leaving you in the hands of your prep team.

A girl named Cleo, with dirty blond hair and pink makeup, is the most talkative out of the three. At the beginning, she’s kind enough to tell you that they’re going to be as gentle as possible with everything that they do. And right after saying that, launches into starting to wax your legs.

It’s a painful process. You grip the edges of the cold, metal table and grit your teeth through it. After every strip is an apology, but after a while it stops being so heartfelt as they seem to enter ‘the zone’. Next comes the shaving, and the plucking and reshaping.

They scrub your body down multiple times, removing all the dirt that has seemingly become just a part of your skin. You watch it all wash down the drain in amazement. Your skin stings painfully, and Cleo reassures you that they’ll get to it eventually, they just have to finish what they’re doing.

A girl names Beth with dark curly hair and a quiet voice takes care of your hair. By the time she’s done with it, it’s silky smooth and smells of strawberries. She dries it completely, and tells you not to touch it at all, she’ll get to styling it after you meet your stylist.

The only boy of the three stands in front of you, staring straight at your face. For a moment, you think it’s an intimidation tactic, but then he smiles. His name is Leo, he’s got orange hair and he’s dressed in gold, “I’m done here.”

“So am I.” Beth agrees, taking a seat in a chair that looks much more comfortable than the steel table you’re sitting on.

“Well, we got everything, didn’t we?” Cleo asks, reaching for an electronic that they’ve been passing through. Then, she goes down a checklist, “Eyebrows, teeth, eyelashes, nails, every place with hair, her hair.” she tilts her head, “I think we’ve done it.”

“Well, let’s grease her down and then make the final touches.” Leo says, Beth nods her head.

All together, they spread lotion over your body. At first, it stings your body pretty harshly, but then there’s a cooling sensation that settles over your skin. As soon as they’re done, they then take one very last look at you, plucking any hair that they had missed the first time around.

And then they send you into a room all by yourself, with nothing to wear. On the hook on the wall to the left, there’s a light blue robe with your last name printed clearly on the breast. You can imagine that you’ll be wearing it later.

You swing your feet, humming a light tune to yourself while you wait. Staring at the wall, you try to picture yourself winning the games. Whatever the arena may be, it’s you who’s standing alone, the camera’s panning around you, a congratulations sounding over the arena. (Y/n) Gallows of District Four.

Reed would probably cry for once, right there in front of everyone. Him and Mox would be so relieved that it’s not funny. And as soon as you’d come home from the Capitol, they’d hold you tightly. You’re not sure you’d even last a second on the train station, you’d probably just jump right off and into their arms, just glad to be with them again.

The only door to the room opens, making you look over. In the doorway stands a very tall woman with tan skin. Her dark hair is pinned back to keep it out of her face. She’s got a black suit on with a white undershirt. It’s all ironed neatly, a crease in her pants to show it. She wears a black heels that she slips off almost as soon as she’s fully entered the room.

It only lowers her height just a little. She’s naturally tall, and has to be on the verge of being six foot or over. It looks like she’s not embarrassed over it at all, instead proud, willing to make herself bigger. All of the tall girls at your school would die to be shorter, while she’s the complete opposite, priding herself in it.

“I’m Laurel.” she says, her voice is smooth and she leaves just a crack in the door, “Stand for me.”

You slip off the table, stretching your shoulders a bit when you do. She takes a walk around you, looking over every inch of your body. Every now and then she’ll move something. Like your hair behind or in front of your shoulders. She’s picked up your hands already to investigate your nails.

Sometimes she’ll stop and stare, like she’s taking it into consideration, and then she’ll move again, “Go ahead and take your robe.”

On the way out of the room, she grabs the backs of her heels with one hand, and exits the room. You take your time with pulling on the silky blue robe, loosely tying it at the front. You cross your arms over your chest naturally, following her to the nice couch. She takes a seat first, and motions for you to do the same.

You tuck the robe beneath you as you sit.

As soon as you’ve sat down, she presses a button on the long table before you. Up comes a second part of it, every inch of it covered in food, “Help yourself. I just ate.”

You’re careful with what you grab, trying to find things that won’t make you sick. Sometime last night when you were tossing and turning on the bed, you realized that the food here is richer than what’s at home. Here, there’s so many flavors that you’ve never experienced before. Back home, it’s all mild.

So, you grab a small portion of chicken, a good part of vegetables and mashed potatoes. Laurel doesn’t really watch you while you eat, more the open window beside the two of you.

“How do you feel about matching outfits?” she asks politely, still not looking over.

“Depends.” you say, lowering the plate a little, “How revealing is it going to be?”

She looks over now, “Compared to the years before you, I’d say modest.”

That’s already a relief, the girl last year had fake starfish suction-cupped to her boobs, and wore a mermaid tail. It was beautifully made, most of it was holographic and in the sun it shimmered. It was the fact that she was exposed up top entirely. To be fair, she was like two years older than you, so it was more… appropriate for her to wear something like that.

Actually, thinking about it, wasn’t Laurel the stylist?

You look at her to see she’s studying your face.

“You’re the one that designed that outfit.” you say, “The mermaid one.”

She nods, eyebrows raised as if she didn’t expect you to realize such a thing. A lot of people back home see the faces of the stylists. Some are around for plenty of years, others get replaced immediately. It just depends on creativity and whether or not you pull in interest.

“It was clever, but nothing I would want to wear.” you finish off your plate, gently setting it onto the glass. You completely ignore the golden colored pudding off to the far right, not interested in stuffing yourself full.

“Why not?” Laurel asks.

“Because I’m fifteen, and my brother’s would have a meltdown.” you fold your arms across your chest again, “Not how I would want to be remembered, either if I do die.”

“Well, you’re going to be in something resembling a bathing suit. It covers enough skin, but it’ll draw in attention.”

Bathing suits are on the line, but you smile and nod. After she makes sure you’re done, she leads you to the dressing room. There, you’re prepared for the chariot ride.

A couple hours later, you find yourself side-by-side with Finnick, who looks eerily similar to what you look like at the moment. He’s got a white tunic around his waist, all bunched up off to one side to reveal his legs. Absolutely no shirt. His stylist, Pleurisy, had decided to go ahead and cover him in vines, both real and fake.

It’s supposed to look like he’s either a statue or just came out of the water, much like the Greek God Poseidon. You’d like to say that they got it pretty well, he’s got the looks for it. Never in a day in your life did you think you’d be calling Finnick attractive.

Then again, you didn’t think that you’d be going into the Hunger Games either. Seems like a lot of things are happening all at once now.

As a joke, you suggested dying Finnick’s skin a blue-green to submerge the idea that he came out of the water, even more. For a moment, you watched in amusement—and him in horror—as Pleurisy considered the idea. She even had a full-length conversation with Laurel about it and whether or not it would be allowed, since it is a body modification.

However, the conversation ended abruptly when Finnick loudly declared that he wouldn’t want to be caught being a shade of green. After, he glared at you but he couldn’t hold it for long. Soon, he was laughing and even jabbed you in the ribs for attempting to sabotage him like that. In all honesty, had they gone through with it, he probably would have caught the eyes of sponsors.

Too bad there wasn’t enough time for it, either.

You and him are wearing nearly the same pair of leather sandals. While his surrounds his calves in a ladder pattern and stops just below the knee, yours only go up to your ankles.

And Laurel seemed to take your concern into consideration. You watched as Cleo had wheeled out an actual bathing suit, the shade of teal, and came back with a similar Greek-Roman-esque clothing that Finnick is wearing. It’s white, and still resembles the idea of a bathing suit, but it manages to cover more skin.

For starters, it’s a tube top, starting below your collarbones and stopping around your upper ribs. The bottom part is tight to keep it secured to your body, because there’s no straps holding it in place, around your shoulders. The second layer of fabric is much more loose, still bunched up. But it hands down.

And the bottom half is basically a skirt with the same premise. You had to sit tight while they glued the vines to your skin, clipping and adding leaves to where they needed them to be. And instead of blue makeup, they went green to keep the theme going.

Anyway, Beth fixed a headband on your head to keep your hair out of your face for the most part. Then came diamond earrings, an expensive pearl necklace and bracelets. By the time you were done, you had to admit that you’re wearing at least hundreds of years worth of rent back home.

Sell all of this, and you’d be able to buy a victor home and still pay rent for years to come.

Then came the wave bracelet on your upper arm, and you waited around as they made finishing touches to everything. You looked in the mirror once, and then had to look twice because on the other side, stood a stranger. When you first went out to meet everyone else, Finnick didn’t recognize you either.

“I feel so heavy.” You tell Finnick as you take a walk around to get a better feel of what you’re wearing.

“I bet.” Finnick laughs.

Laurel and Pleurisy make small adjustments to the two of you as time goes on to make sure it all flows better. Before you know it, you and Finnick are being brought onto the chariot, minutes away from the tribute parade. You’re not normally nervous around crowds, but practically the entire Capitol population and everyone back home and more, is going to be watching.

Your brothers, sister, Caspian, and Naida and everyone from school is going to see you like this. So completely different that they'll have to squint to even see who you were yesterday. You looked poor then, dressed in a dress that didn’t even belong to you, with dirty shoes and a plain face. Now, you have pearls and diamonds, and you’re showing more skin than you’d even dare to. Now you look like you belong in the Capitol.

It’s supposed to be a good thing, but you find yourself fearing losing who you were. You don’t want to be showered in riches. You want to be normal when this is all over. That magazine in the train did absolutely nothing to convince you, just turned you away more.

(Y/n) Gallows of District Four. Won the Hunger Games at fifteen, and lost herself in the process. What happened? She became one of them, a drooling pet of the Capitol. Just like everyone else who rose to her place.

You shiver.

“Are you cold?” Finnick asks, “I could wrap my arm around you.”

His bare skin on yours? That’ll drive people nuts, make rumors fly everywhere, especially back home. You can see the way Reed will scowl, “No, I’m fine.”

Just before the horses take off, Laurel moves forward, and changes the way the two of you are at the moment. So much for avoiding skin-on-skin.

She makes your right arm go under Finnick’s left one to hold onto it. Then, your left hand goes on top to make it look like he’s offered his elbow to you. And you are nothing but a damsel, holding on. Maybe you were wrong at the reaping. You thought that you’d be the one playing that part, and here you are, still following everything by the book.

You’re told not to move your right arm, no matter the circumstance. Your left one is free to wave and do whatever you see fit. The chariots start to move, and you steady yourself with grabbing off to the side. But soon let go as you get your legs back.

Finnick is surprisingly warm, he was right to offer to put his arm around you. If you had been cold, you wouldn’t have been for much longer. Even now you feel a little ridiculous, he’s practically a furnace. And you almost feel bad for how cold your fingers are. You can’t tell if he notices or not, though.

“This is so exciting.” Finnick let’s out a gentle laugh, a smile creeping over his face, “Don’t you think?”

“Actually, I’m a bit nervous.” You admit.

He looks over then, watching your face with furrowed eyebrows. For a moment, you feel like you said something heinous. But then he finally speaks.

“You’re not kidding?”

You’re next to draw your eyebrows in, is this a trick question? “No?”

He shakes his head, looking off to the side. You can already see the end of the tunnel. You think he’s going to keep whatever he’s thinking to himself, but again, he speaks.

“You can’t tell me this isn’t any different than the reaping. The only thing that’s changed is the crowd. There’s still cameras and thousands of people watching. The real thing you’re worried about is performing well.” Finnick says.

You open your mouth, going to say that it’s not like that. But then you realize that it is, it’s exactly like that. Before you were too shocked to care about the cameras, you were worried for your brothers and the fact that you’d be going into the Hunger Games with a friend. Now, you know that every move you make or don’t could make a huge difference.

One mess up and it could very well mean the difference between life and death, even now.

The sun shines down onto the blonde horses first as you emerge from the base floor of the Remake Center. From here, you can see the people in the stands, cheering already at the first chariot. They’re not going to see you for a moment, you’re three districts behind. But as soon as you’re as far in as the first drummers, there will be eyes on you.

“Hey.” Finnick says, catching your attention. When you look over you can see a perfect white cube between his fingers, “Want a sugar cube?”

You hold out your hand, and he drops it in your palm, “Where did you even get this?”

“Saw the horse tamers handing them out to the horses.” he shrugs, “Snagged a few.”

“Pure sugar, huh?” you ask, lifting it in front of you. The sun catches the little sugar crystals, light bouncing off. After you’re done turning it over, you and him share a look before popping the cubes into your mouths.

It’s pure sweetness. Better than the ice cream you had on the train. It starts in the middle of your mouth, but slowly melts and takes over your entire tongue. Your mouth waters, waiting for more. But it’s a quick treat, and it was a good one.

With a smile on your face now, you lift your hand to wave to your side of the crowd. On your way back, you’ll be able to wave at the other side too. They’ll equally get to take a look at your chariot outfit and decide whether or not it was a good enough debut. Or they’ll take one good look at your body and decide from there.

The cheering from the crowd is loud, constantly overlapping each other. They’ll cover their mouths, clap, throw affections towards you guys. Whatever to get your attention, and to every flower thrown, you make sure to look at the Capitol person. If they think it’s personal, they’ll be more likely to like you. Singling them out makes them think you two had a moment together.

Then, you hear your name called. With wide eyes, your head turns in the direction, completely shocked someone would do the same to you. You spot the person in the crowd easily, wearing a sea green outfit from head to toe, the man has dark hair and a mustache. He blows you a kiss, and suddenly you don’t feel as enthusiastic anymore.

Still, you pretend to catch it, giving him a polite smile and waving before you’ve moved on to the next person. The closer you get to City Circle, the more you can feel the smile fading. It could have very well been an innocent interaction, but your mind wanders to all those times victors have spent extra time in the Capitol after their win.

“What’s the matter?” Finnick asks, “You’re pretty pale.”

One glance up at the big screen to your left confirms what Finnick said. You’ve lost color in your face, the smile is completely gone and you almost look indifferent to this whole thing. It’s not exactly a bad thing to be indifferent, sometimes the Capitol citizens love a tribute like that, especially when the tribute thinks they’re going to win. But this is different.

You lean into Finnick, placing a smile on your face as you turn your head over your shoulders. He leans in to hear you, “Just watched a grown man blow me a kiss. Pretend to laugh.”

He does, and you listen as a few people call your names. But the second you look forward again, the two of you are sharing the same worrying look in your eyes. Still, you laugh a bit and go back to waving. It isn’t much distance now, half a stand to go before you get a break.

For as long as you can, you solely pay attention to the ones that don’t seem creepy at all. Even one weird look from them, and you’re turning your attention to the next person. People seem captivated by the idea of you sharing an intimate moment with Finnick like that, leaning your head on his shoulder and whispering something. Too bad for them, it wasn’t anything good.

The chariots fill the loop of the Circle, and with curious eyes, you go ahead and look over the windows of the president’s mansion to find that most of them are packed with expensive-looking people. The horses come to a stop in a particular spot, and the music graciously ends as the last of the chariots come through.

President Snow comes out and onto the balcony, a smile on his face as he stops in front of the microphone. Here, he gives out an official welcome to the tributes, and then the traditional speech comes after. You’ve been watching this man give this speech for fifteen years now, and it never changes.

During this time, it’s customary for the camera crew to pan around the tributes to show off their outfits again. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see yourself and Finnick the focus at the moment. All you can think about is the potential sponsors, so you go ahead and lay your head on Finnick’s shoulder.

You can hear a few people, way, way back give out a squeal or a cheer. But Finnick knows the exact game you’re playing, and goes ahead and places his head on top of yours. Not only do you have your half-naked body next to him, arms wrapped around his, you also have your head on his shoulder. And he’s repaid the favor.

You hope this pays off. You were worried about Reed and Mox and the outfit situation before. Now you’re just worried about how they’re going to react to you clearly playing up some act with a boy. You know they’re protective, you just hope that they keep their mouth shut and don’t cause too big of a commotion.

The anthem plays after the speech, and knowing that this means you’re going to be moving again, you and Finnick straighten out. The chariots take one last lap around the Circle, and then you’re heading back towards the Training Center. On the way, you rinse and repeat with the side that Finnick had originally been on.

It’s much easier this time around, you know how to avoid the same mistakes you made the first time around. Before you know it, the entire ordeal is over. You’re quickly covered by shadows again, and you and Finnick are untangling your arms to give them a good stretch.

As soon as the chariot has fully stopped, you’re surrounded by everyone. The prep teams who are talking loudly and helping you down from where you stand. The stylists who are still pretty far back, probably tired of listening to their friends. And then Mags and Anchor, who are already singing praise.

“Smart.” Anchor says, motioning between you and Finnick, “The head thing, I mean. Was that planned?”

“My half was, I didn’t expect him to follow.” you elbow Finnick and watch as his face turns a very light shade of red.

“Whatever for the sponsors, right?”

“Right.” Mags agrees.

You cooperate to the best of your abilities when it comes to getting the vines off, wincing when it pulls at your skin painfully. Finnick seems to not like it very much either. It’s all in sensitive areas, and after they’re removed, your skin is a bright color.

The prep teams don’t even say goodbye, disappearing off to wherever they have to head. You’re still covered in jewelry and makeup, and so is Finnick. As the two of you turn to your mentors, really hoping to get back to the Four floor, Anchor nods at something behind you.

You’re the first to look over, Finnick seemingly clueless. You tug on his arm a bit when you realize what’s going on. A sprinkle of fear begins in your heart, and you do your best to suppress it. It’s not the end of the world, in fact, it might be the beginning of one. And without even thinking about it, you wave them over.

One chariot over is the District One tributes, staring at you and Finnick. While you and him were distracted a second ago, they got their first opportunity to size you up, measure your body and take predictions on what you may or may not be good at. It’s a jump, one you wish you could have taken yourself. You only get to see them so many times before you go into the arena. And this is the first real look up-close.

These moments where you over or underestimate them are crucial. Once your viewpoint is set, you can’t imagine you’ll be thinking much different later on. And talking to them is a good way to get a feel on how they’re going to be for the next five days.

Three of those being training, where you get to see what they do and don’t excel at. It’ll be important for you to pay attention to the tributes that head straight for certain areas in the Training Center. It means that they’re good at it, especially the ones that go for the weapons. The fourth day is the private training score, showing how dangerous they are.

And the very last day is the interview. There, they’ll be able to show the whole sponsor pool why they’re good enough. Same thing for you. You have to pay attention to every little detail. Every single one.

Like now, how both Trink and Lennox head your way without a single moment of hesitation. Either they were waiting on an invitation or they were planning on heading this way anyway.

“Scram.” you hiss to your mentors and stylists, and it looks like they understand why, because they leave with no questions.

When they’re within speaking distance, you start, “Cute outfits, where’d you get ‘em?”

They’re both dressed in sparkly outfits. From where you were on the chariot, you thought they looked like disco balls with how the light reflected from them, into the stands. Thankfully, their stylists must have taken the tributes behind them into consideration, because you never got blinded once.

“Oh, you know.” Trink smiles, it’s cute, attractive. You can sense a bit of danger with it, attractiveness will get you everywhere with sponsors because of how they think. But if you manage to become allies with them, their sponsors might just become yours. Think smarter, not harder, “Went shopping yesterday after the reaping.”

She poses to add effect, Lennox doesn’t look as entertained as she is. He’s stiff, stares you and Finnick down like you’ve got some ulterior motive. No, it’s just an alliance. It’s reasonable. Districts One, Two and Four regularly team up. The only problem this year is you and Finnick are young.

Young can easily get you killed. If you’re twelve, thirteen and fourteen, you have little to no chance of winning. Your odds increase slightly at fifteen, and get bigger and bigger at sixteen, seventeen and eighteen. The older you are, the more your body has developed. And considering they’ve had years of preparation, while other tributes have never done something like that ever, they have an unfair advantage.

“I’m (Y/n).” you give her a smile.

“Trink.” she says, “This is Lennox. He’s jealous at the moment.”

Your eyes slide over to him to see that he’s staring you down now, “What you did on the chariot was…”

“Smart?” you ask, “I know, there’s no need to tell me.”

Now there’s a smile on his face. It looks like confidence is the key when it comes to him, that’s something you’re going to have to remember until later. You complimented Trink to get her to be playful, and you were confident with how you look.

“And you?” Lennox looks over to Finnick.

A smile spreads over your face as you watch Finnick offer his hand, “Finnick.”

Lennox’s impressed expression only deepens, taking Finnick’s hand and shaking it. They’re definitely older than you are. Not only because of their height, but because of the way they talk and carry themselves. Either Lennox has got a superiority complex going on, or he’s extremely old-fashioned, which you don’t think is likely.

You look between them to see that District Two is coming over uninvited. Perfect. If you all gather now, then it’ll be easier to gather later inside of the training room. You’ll all know each other, and naturally gravitate into a group. Just like how it is back home at school when it comes to group projects. You normally go straight for your friends or people you know in general to make the process a lot less painful.

“Looks like we’ve got company.” Finnick says, beating you to it.

And just like that, Lennox and Trink split, allowing Eytelle to come to a stop next to Trink, and Allio next to Lennox. With Trink and Eytelle standing next to each other, you can see just how much of a distance there is between them. Eytelle is nowhere near the same height as Laurel just yet, but if she keeps growing, she will be.

Her parents must be tall, because that’s the only reason why she would be this height. Her long legs are going to give her an advantage when it comes to running, but it’ll be hard for her to hide easily in an arena. She’ll have to find a space where she hides completely, while you would just be able to slip right on through.

“District Two?” you ask, “I’m going to have to ask your names.”

“Eytelle.” she says, she’s hunched over, arms around her exposed stomach. Eytelle’s outfit isn’t nearly as flattering as Trink’s. With District Two, they’re always trying to go for a gladiator look, like they should belong in a coliseum rather than a Tribute Parade.

“Allio.” his voice is deeper than you expected, “And you are?” he must be older, otherwise he just went through puberty early.

“(Y/n), this is Finnick.”

“Nice show you put out there.” Eytelle says, her voice is calm, but there’s something festering beneath.

You have a feeling that she’s jealous of the attention, just like Lennox.

“I saw an opportunity and took it, I hope you’re not expecting me to be apologetic.”

“Not at all.” Allio says, “It was smart, if anything.”

Finnick laughs, and Lennox and Trink break out a smile too. After you explain to him what’s so funny, they seem to loosen up a lot more. For a couple of minutes, it’s casual conversation on how long it took for you to get ready for the parade. Then, the conversation is wrapping up, with you bidding them goodbye until tomorrow. It gives an edge that you hope they’ll catch on to.

On your way back to the Four floor, you and Finnick agree on making them allies. It would be easiest after all. They seem reluctant to trust, but so do you. It’s only fair at this point, you’re still very new to each other. But eventually, they will grow to like you, and expect you to pull weight if you can sell an alliance.

Another step taken, another crack slipped through.

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